i think my car is going to die soon. the engine smells after i've driven it. a burning sort of smell, and even though my knowledge of cars is quite, quite limited, i'm going to assume that burning and engines are not good together.
i can't complain really, i don't exactly look after my car. it's a 1986 ford laser, i've been driving it for about 7 years now, and have had it serviced exactly twice. i figure i never needed to get it serviced, because i had to replace a part in it every 12 minutes. however, this smell is starting to worry me.
so if anyone has any advice, drop me a line. save the laser. stop the madness.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
if you're confused, check with the sun
welcome to australia, if it's your first time here. and holy shit, you've picked a doozy of a time to arrive. could it be any fucking hotter? the answer is
YES
so grab the nearest acubra with corks dangling from it, throw another shrimp on any hot surface (which is basically anything), grab a cold one from the esky, sit around and mumble "too fucking hot" whenever anyone says anything to you.
who has the best job in australia? there's two people (i think). they are the two guys that host 'cheez tv', which is basically 'agro's cartoon connection', 'the early bird show' and 'what's up doc' but instead of a total hornbag chick talking about cartoons (except maybe 'the early bird show', but only cause i can't remember the chick from it), there's these two wanker guys doing it. i remember them starting this gig when i was in high school, so they've been doing it for about 10 years.
why is this the best job in australia? cause they work for literally 4 minutes a day.
4 minutes.
you can boil one and one-third eggs in that time. and the working day is done. i'll take you through a working day in the lives of "bill" and "phil" (i can't remember their names, honestly).
- 06.30: bill: "hi kids, welcome to cheez tv."
phil: "today we've got the same cartoons we had yesterday, sonic x and yu-gi-oh, which i've never actually heard of, but sound suspiciously like pokemon. so here we go. here's a cartoon about a computer game character that you wouldn't have heard of unless you had a sega megadrive."
wow. that was a hardcore one minute fifty-four effort, bill.
i agree, phil.
-07.00: bill: "and now it's time for yu-gi oh, but first, here's a fan letter.
phil: "dear bill and phil, i like your show a lot. your friend, timmy.
bill: "thanks timmy. now on with the cartoon."
bill, would you like to sit down? we were talking for fifty-nine seconds just then.
tell me about it, phil. these days are just stretching on forever.
-07.30: bill: "thanks for watching kids. tomorrow we'll have more yu-gi oh and sonic x. we had a lot of fun today, didn't we?"
phil: "we sure did, bill. i'm exhausted after all that fun."
bill: "me too."
and after another two minutes and four seconds, the day is over for the cheez tv hosts. they are free to retire to their mansion and snort lines of coke off the backs of asian prostitutes.
YES
so grab the nearest acubra with corks dangling from it, throw another shrimp on any hot surface (which is basically anything), grab a cold one from the esky, sit around and mumble "too fucking hot" whenever anyone says anything to you.
who has the best job in australia? there's two people (i think). they are the two guys that host 'cheez tv', which is basically 'agro's cartoon connection', 'the early bird show' and 'what's up doc' but instead of a total hornbag chick talking about cartoons (except maybe 'the early bird show', but only cause i can't remember the chick from it), there's these two wanker guys doing it. i remember them starting this gig when i was in high school, so they've been doing it for about 10 years.
why is this the best job in australia? cause they work for literally 4 minutes a day.
4 minutes.
you can boil one and one-third eggs in that time. and the working day is done. i'll take you through a working day in the lives of "bill" and "phil" (i can't remember their names, honestly).
- 06.30: bill: "hi kids, welcome to cheez tv."
phil: "today we've got the same cartoons we had yesterday, sonic x and yu-gi-oh, which i've never actually heard of, but sound suspiciously like pokemon. so here we go. here's a cartoon about a computer game character that you wouldn't have heard of unless you had a sega megadrive."
wow. that was a hardcore one minute fifty-four effort, bill.
i agree, phil.
-07.00: bill: "and now it's time for yu-gi oh, but first, here's a fan letter.
phil: "dear bill and phil, i like your show a lot. your friend, timmy.
bill: "thanks timmy. now on with the cartoon."
bill, would you like to sit down? we were talking for fifty-nine seconds just then.
tell me about it, phil. these days are just stretching on forever.
-07.30: bill: "thanks for watching kids. tomorrow we'll have more yu-gi oh and sonic x. we had a lot of fun today, didn't we?"
phil: "we sure did, bill. i'm exhausted after all that fun."
bill: "me too."
and after another two minutes and four seconds, the day is over for the cheez tv hosts. they are free to retire to their mansion and snort lines of coke off the backs of asian prostitutes.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
...and she's buying a stairway to heaven...
i don't really have a good reason to be singing 'stairway to heaven'; i mean, i haven't heard it recently, but have had it stuck in my head for the entireity of today. well, to be honest, that one line has been stuck in my head, which is just plain annoying.
today started just like any other day. i woke up, turned off my alarm, and went back to sleep. woke up again sometime later, and cried because it was time to go to work. so i lay in bed for a while longer, delaying the inevitable. i lay there for quite some time. long enough to be late to work... but as i said, that's just like any other day. as i lay there, quite aware of the time ticking away, i tried to justify my laziness, and how i could possibly wake up later, and be at work earlier. my thoughts turned to a shorter shower, less time shaving, speeding through school zones, ignoring traffic lights, building a flying car, inventing a time machine... in the end, it all seemed too much, so i just got up. late. and was late to work. but the people i work with care less about me being late than i do, so it's all good.
anyway, today i spent some time with someone that i see most days. you've probably got your equivalent, whether you're reading this in an internet cafe in Fiji, are an eskimo on holiday in Madagascar or just work in a different part of Canberra to me. the guy with the squeegee that washes your windscreen at the traffic lights.
every fucking day, this fucking ratty man and his trusty squeegee, soaked in dirty water attacks my car. i blame him for everything that's wrong with my car, which is quite a lot. he tracks me down, the little fucker, and forces me to pay him. prick. on the off days that the lights are green at his particular intersection, he radios ahead to his equally ratty, smacked-out friend a few blocks up, and i inevitably have this bastard drooling on my windows.
and i always hand over the gold.
i have two reasons - one is that i'm soft. i never stand up for myself, and try to avoid confrontation at all cost.
two, i always try not to piss people off if it looks like they might have the plague.
today started just like any other day. i woke up, turned off my alarm, and went back to sleep. woke up again sometime later, and cried because it was time to go to work. so i lay in bed for a while longer, delaying the inevitable. i lay there for quite some time. long enough to be late to work... but as i said, that's just like any other day. as i lay there, quite aware of the time ticking away, i tried to justify my laziness, and how i could possibly wake up later, and be at work earlier. my thoughts turned to a shorter shower, less time shaving, speeding through school zones, ignoring traffic lights, building a flying car, inventing a time machine... in the end, it all seemed too much, so i just got up. late. and was late to work. but the people i work with care less about me being late than i do, so it's all good.
anyway, today i spent some time with someone that i see most days. you've probably got your equivalent, whether you're reading this in an internet cafe in Fiji, are an eskimo on holiday in Madagascar or just work in a different part of Canberra to me. the guy with the squeegee that washes your windscreen at the traffic lights.
every fucking day, this fucking ratty man and his trusty squeegee, soaked in dirty water attacks my car. i blame him for everything that's wrong with my car, which is quite a lot. he tracks me down, the little fucker, and forces me to pay him. prick. on the off days that the lights are green at his particular intersection, he radios ahead to his equally ratty, smacked-out friend a few blocks up, and i inevitably have this bastard drooling on my windows.
and i always hand over the gold.
i have two reasons - one is that i'm soft. i never stand up for myself, and try to avoid confrontation at all cost.
two, i always try not to piss people off if it looks like they might have the plague.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Things that are just tops
this isn't going to be a pansy arsed list of things that make you feel all warm and fuzzy, like being told "i love you" when you've had a shit day, nor is it a list of things that are just brilliant, like blow jobs. it's just a list of cool shit.
- waking up in the morning (read: afternoon) after a night out on the piss, heading down to mcdonalds and finding a $20 in your pocket that you didn't think you had - otherwise you would've spent it on more beer and a kebab that you probably would have chucked up anyway.
- waking up in the morning (read: afternoon) after a night out on the piss, checking your phone and realising that you didn't make any calls or send any texts to your ex girlfriend.
- waking up and having just enough milk to make a coffee.
- seeing the price of petrol at $1.00 a litre and thinking, "that's cheap", but forgetting to fill up until the next day and the price is still $1.00 a litre.
- X-Men
- free tea and coffee at the Southern Cross Club (for members and invited guests)
- Finding 40 cents in the back seat of your car when you're leaving the multi-storey
- A desk job and the Internet. Fucking gold, man.
- the film clip to Shiny Happy People
- Steak. Medium rare. With fries, vegetables and pepper sauce.
- Carlton Draught (twice as good when had with the above)
- Cricket that starts at 11:00am on a Saturday, so you can literally crawl from your bed to the couch and not miss a single ball.
- CD singles with a cool b-side or cover song
- coming to the end of a list
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Roger, Wilco
You know what shits me today? (well, actually, that question should be more 'you know what i just thought of that shits me?) Space Quest. And Space Quest 2. And 3. And if there was a 4th one, it shits me as well. Even though I can't remember playing it. Games like Kings Quest, Police Quest and Leisure Suit Larry. Adventure games. The ol' typey typey type type games.
You know why they shit me? Cause they're not around anymore.
Where are kids gonna learn how to type properly these days? My typing skills were cut on games that gave remarks like "I don't know what a rkock is" when you tried to look under a rock for the golden horse pube or something. The art of moving your character around with the arrow keys and typing something with the other meant co-ordination of the highest order. Games that went soooo close to calling you a moron, but euphemised it with "I don't know what you mean", and had smart-arsed comments to make when you typed in a swear word.
Now everything's clicky clicky clickaroo. Even good ol' MS Word is against me. Gone are the days when you had to run a spell-check on your document to find the offending item, the fucking thing looks while you're typing. AND (i've capitalised that, just to show that i haven't quite finished yet) it changes the spelling if it's a common mistake. Words like 'receipt' or 'communication' and 'NKOTB' change before you even know you've fucked up. So poor little Johnny could very well spend the rest of his quasi-illiterate life thinking that 'communication' has one m, receipt doesn't do the whole "i after e except after c" bonanza, and NKOTB were different from New Kids On The Block. Bring back typewriters and Word for Windows 3.11.
A luddite I am not, I just want kids to be able to spell.
Oprah Winfrey shits me too. What happened to all the people who used to "solve" family "issues" on her show, and break down and cry? Where's the love, Oprah? These days, George Clooney pops in for a visit. Last time I checked, the only issue with George Clooney is that he's extremely rich and good looking. (not that i rate him, of course).
Bring back the enormously fat Americans who cry. There used to be some dignity about appearing on Oprah, rather than Springer.
FACT FOR TODAY:
Running through the rain will not only get you there quicker, but dryer...
First the theory. We divide the raindrops hitting you into two categories: (1) head drops, which fall from above and would hit you even if you were standing still; and (2) chest drops, which you run/walk into and which wouldn't hit you if you were standing still.
We can all agree that the number of head drops is strictly a function of how long you're out in the rain; if you run, fewer head drops. The question is whether the allegedly larger number of chest drops you get when running outweighs the definitely larger number of head drops you get while walking.Not to keep you in suspense, the answer is no. If we ignore aerodynamic effects, we can show mathematically (but won't) that while you'll collect many fewer head drops running rather than walking, you'll get exactly the same number of chest drops, regardless of the speed at which you travel. Bottom line: you'll be a lot wetter if you walk. But wait, you say. What about those pesky aerodynamic effects? The requisite math is a bit daunting, but never fear. Heedless of personal chastising from neighbours and illiterate children, I spent a recent rainy Saturday running down the street like an idiot brandishing pieces of red construction paper clipped to cardboard, the better to snag and count raindrops. Methodology: three trials of two runs each over a fixed distance, once running, once walking. Winds: calm. Angle of attack of paper relative to ground: 45 degrees. Results:Trial #1. Running, 15 seconds to run course; 213 drops. Walking, 40 seconds; couldn't count drops, paper soaked. Shortened course.Trial #2. Running, 7 seconds; 131 drops. Walking, 20 seconds; 216 drops. Trial #3. Running, 7 seconds; 147 drops. Walking, 17 seconds; 221 drops.So there you are. The differences are larger than the numbers suggest because many drops on the "walking" papers dried before I could count them. (counting is hard) My guess is that the number of drops is exactly proportional. If you're out twice as long, you get twice as wet. One obvious caveat. If enough rain falls on you, whether because of the intensity of the rainfall or the distance you have to travel, eventually you'll be thoroughly soaked. After that it doesn't matter whether you run or walk; you're as wet as you're going to get. So the preceding applies only to relatively short sprints through less-than-torrential downpours. My advice: always run--if nothing else you could use the exercise. And if you're running to or from work, you can get compo.
You know why they shit me? Cause they're not around anymore.
Where are kids gonna learn how to type properly these days? My typing skills were cut on games that gave remarks like "I don't know what a rkock is" when you tried to look under a rock for the golden horse pube or something. The art of moving your character around with the arrow keys and typing something with the other meant co-ordination of the highest order. Games that went soooo close to calling you a moron, but euphemised it with "I don't know what you mean", and had smart-arsed comments to make when you typed in a swear word.
Now everything's clicky clicky clickaroo. Even good ol' MS Word is against me. Gone are the days when you had to run a spell-check on your document to find the offending item, the fucking thing looks while you're typing. AND (i've capitalised that, just to show that i haven't quite finished yet) it changes the spelling if it's a common mistake. Words like 'receipt' or 'communication' and 'NKOTB' change before you even know you've fucked up. So poor little Johnny could very well spend the rest of his quasi-illiterate life thinking that 'communication' has one m, receipt doesn't do the whole "i after e except after c" bonanza, and NKOTB were different from New Kids On The Block. Bring back typewriters and Word for Windows 3.11.
A luddite I am not, I just want kids to be able to spell.
Oprah Winfrey shits me too. What happened to all the people who used to "solve" family "issues" on her show, and break down and cry? Where's the love, Oprah? These days, George Clooney pops in for a visit. Last time I checked, the only issue with George Clooney is that he's extremely rich and good looking. (not that i rate him, of course).
Bring back the enormously fat Americans who cry. There used to be some dignity about appearing on Oprah, rather than Springer.
FACT FOR TODAY:
Running through the rain will not only get you there quicker, but dryer...
First the theory. We divide the raindrops hitting you into two categories: (1) head drops, which fall from above and would hit you even if you were standing still; and (2) chest drops, which you run/walk into and which wouldn't hit you if you were standing still.
We can all agree that the number of head drops is strictly a function of how long you're out in the rain; if you run, fewer head drops. The question is whether the allegedly larger number of chest drops you get when running outweighs the definitely larger number of head drops you get while walking.Not to keep you in suspense, the answer is no. If we ignore aerodynamic effects, we can show mathematically (but won't) that while you'll collect many fewer head drops running rather than walking, you'll get exactly the same number of chest drops, regardless of the speed at which you travel. Bottom line: you'll be a lot wetter if you walk. But wait, you say. What about those pesky aerodynamic effects? The requisite math is a bit daunting, but never fear. Heedless of personal chastising from neighbours and illiterate children, I spent a recent rainy Saturday running down the street like an idiot brandishing pieces of red construction paper clipped to cardboard, the better to snag and count raindrops. Methodology: three trials of two runs each over a fixed distance, once running, once walking. Winds: calm. Angle of attack of paper relative to ground: 45 degrees. Results:Trial #1. Running, 15 seconds to run course; 213 drops. Walking, 40 seconds; couldn't count drops, paper soaked. Shortened course.Trial #2. Running, 7 seconds; 131 drops. Walking, 20 seconds; 216 drops. Trial #3. Running, 7 seconds; 147 drops. Walking, 17 seconds; 221 drops.So there you are. The differences are larger than the numbers suggest because many drops on the "walking" papers dried before I could count them. (counting is hard) My guess is that the number of drops is exactly proportional. If you're out twice as long, you get twice as wet. One obvious caveat. If enough rain falls on you, whether because of the intensity of the rainfall or the distance you have to travel, eventually you'll be thoroughly soaked. After that it doesn't matter whether you run or walk; you're as wet as you're going to get. So the preceding applies only to relatively short sprints through less-than-torrential downpours. My advice: always run--if nothing else you could use the exercise. And if you're running to or from work, you can get compo.
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