Canberra - The Olympic City

Olympic fever has certainly gripped the world, with conversations about sprints and marathons and weightlifters and Greco-Roman wrestling dominating the water cooler for the past few weeks. Beijing certainly has a range of impressive venues like the Bird's Nest and the Giant Mattress of Water. Nice work, Chinese peeps.

And Canberra, a leader in world sophistication and the envy of cities everywhere, sits back and watches.

In an attempt to bring the world "the greatest Olympic Games ever," Canberra is preparing a bid for the 2016 Games. And why not? We already have most of the facilities already set up - we're just waiting for the athletes to turn up.

With a capacity of around 35,000 (around 40-45,000 if you let the kids sit on the grass around the sidelines), Canberra Stadium (formerly Bruce Stadium) will be home of the Opening Ceremony, which will be all kinds of awesome. This intimate setting will allow drunken members of the crowd to yell abuse at the marching athletes, and also give the athletes able chance to physically assault them back without trouble. The Canberra Raiderettes will provide the entertainment with their intricate dancing and synchronised moves that tell the story of the "Macarena" and whatever shit Pink has released that year. The Olympic Flame* will be lit by 13-year old kids from the Belconnen Bus Interchange flicking cigarettes into a plastic wheelie bin.
*lighting of the flame may not happen due to extreme fire danger.

Canberra Stadium (formerly Bruce Stadium), home of the mighty, giant-killing Canberra Raiders and the over-paid, low-achieving ACT Brumbies will also be the centre of attention for the athletics leg of the Games. Spectators are warned to bring cash to the Stadium though, as there is only one ATM in the whole place. In terms of the track and field competition, I'm fairly sure there's enough space on the field for everything to be going on at the same time. If not, they can learn to share.

Anyone who's ever visited, lived in or flown over the city of Canberra will realise that each and every road has a bike-path that is predominantly bike-free, so the cycling street races have never been more awesome or scenic, as athletes will be treated to a city without the dangers of pollution or terrorist attacks, and be able to cycle up and around Telstra Tower, past Questacon and the National Library, through the "Orange Tunnel" and into the heart of the mess that they've made on Caswell Drive, before finishing on the marbled steps of Parliament House. Fucking sweet. I'd probably buy a bike if it meant I could take part. Cycling athletes are not permitted to take advantage of the buses that have the bike racks on the front of them. I'm still trying to work that shit out myself.

The cycling pursuit events can be held in the storm-water drains in various suburbs. I know there's a Velodrome already built in Fadden or something, but I'm buggered if I'm going there to watch it. I'll get stuck on Bugden Ave and won't be seen again.

Soccer - nup. Get rid of it.

Softball - already gotten rid of.

European handball - to be played at EPIC - preferably before they have Oktoberfest there, because otherwise the floors will be sticky with spilt "German" beer, vomit and possibly some blood. I love celebrating being so damn German. I would also like to introduce "schoolyard handball" into the Olympics, and have it played at any school ground in Canberra. Each match must be agreed as to whether there are "intoes" allowed, "spooks", "rolls-to-the-death" or "rolls-replay", "full played" or "full-played-forgotten", whether "waxing" is allowed, and if so, opens the game to "secret waxing". There must also be some Year 9 punks on hand to pick up tennis balls that go out of play, which they can then either peg at the fattest player on the handball court, or throw onto the roof of the main building. Athletes have the choice of dobbing the Year 9 kid to a nearby teacher, which will get the ball back, but result in being stuffed into a locker at a later date.

Equestrian - there are heaps of paddocks around, so take your pick. Equestrian must only be allowed into the Canberra Olympics if the horses get a medal as well. Note: The archery and shooting events will all be held at the same venue at the same time. Extra points to the horse who can maintain its stupid walking/dancing dressage pattern while being shot at.

Gymnastics can be held at my old school gym. Athletes must make sure they put all the mats away after they use them though, including the giant blue crash mat. And no fucking around while they do it, the teachers aren't in the mood to have to rescue some idiot gymnast from Mexico who's been buried in old, dusty mats by some Ukranian bully.

Swimming events can be held at Macquarie Pool (I refuse to call it Big Splash), but only in the three lanes they have open for laps. If you get hit by a stray tennis ball, it's your own fault. Athletes may also opt to compete whilst going down the waterslides, although causing a blockage in the slides (especially on the Family Slide) will result in penalties, and your Slide Pass wrist-band will be confiscated. Races will also be held going down the Hurricane Twins. Athletes attending the Macquarie Pool events are advised to wear sandals or thongs, as there are a lot of prickles on the grass.

The kayak and canoes and sailboats and whatnot events don't interest me, so if they still want to do them, they can head to Lake Burley Griffin or Kambah Pool or something. I don't see why they can't organise their own things - they should just sms each other and say, "'LOL man ill b @ LBG tomoz @ 10 4 a race. u in?' and the other guys can reply with, "yeh sounds gd. c u den!" or "cn we make it l8r? i hav 2 go 2 my cuzs wedding lol who gets married during olympix?" and then "howz 5?" "yeh i think dats ok. will txt u if not. LOL mite hav 2 make it da nxt day evn!" "LOL yeh".
I love rowers.

The Marathon will be run close to my street, so I can watch from my balcony. But I'm not watching the whole thing; that shit gets boring. The course will lead them to the IGA at the bottom of my hill, where they are required to do some shopping and bring me beer and ice-cream (I'll provide a full shopping list closer to the event), and they can drop it off on my doorstep. They may also wash my car in lieu of this (water restrictions permitting).

Beach volleyball - nup. Get rid of it. We've got volleyball, just enjoy that.

Fencing will be replaced by battles of Street Fighter 2 - which can still be played at Theo's Take Away for 60c a game ($1 for double play). Athletes must decide whether to have normal salt or chicken salt during the event, and eat at least two potato scollops whilst competing.

The Athlete's Village is to be located at the University of Canberra student residences. Food to be provided by Baker Bob and Bagel Bob, with assistance from the G-Spot food wagon, 24-hour Drive-Thru McDonalds in Belconnen and cheap steak night at the Lighthouse. They can also eat at the Olympic venues, and choose to feast on traditional Australian/Canberran fare such as pies and sauce, sausage rolls and sauce, hot dogs and sauce, chips and sauce and noodles left over from the Multicultural Festival, all of which are burning on the outside and frozen in the middle. Sauce is 20c extra.

The Closing Ceremony (at Canberra Stadium [formerly Bruce Stadium], naturally) will involve a final showdown between Victor the Viking, Brumbie Jack, the pig from Hog's Breath, and the dog and cockatoo from Bate's Pet Paradise in a cage match. My money is on Victor, due to experience in the suit, but the Bate's Pet Paradise mascots have been biffing for years, and could surprise everyone.

With the crowd of athletes looking on, the Olympic Flame will be extinguished by Todd Carney in his usual manner, who will then jump into a ute and fang it out of there, taking the baton to the next delegate (hopefully they're in Goulburn, cause that's where Carney will probably go). With the smell of burnt rubber still fresh in the air, the sky will erupt in a decidedly half-arsed fireworks display, and the crowd will leave early, to "avoid the rush in the carpark." And so, as the curtain falls on Canberra 2016, the cleaners around Canberra Stadium will be the only ones there to hurry the athletes out so everyone can get home in time to watch Rove.

what shall i wear today?

Wherever you go in this big ol’ bluey greeney grey white and occasionally red world of ours, you are guaranteed to be able to buy a t-shirt that tells anyone who looks at you where you’ve been. Whether it’s an "I love New York" shirt, a "Mind the Gap" logo, or a "My Brother Went T-shirt Shopping in T-shirtland and All He Brought Me Back was this T-shirt" shirt, there are a bazillion t-shirts out there with a city, country, region or province decorating the front.

MEBCAM continues with a range of Canberra-quality tees for you to proudly boast upon your torso...

If you want a bigger view of them, just click on each shirt. It's not rocket surgery.



Some call it a mole, I call it a beauty spot.


This basically sums up how I feel about my beloved Canberra. I also like the obligatory Parliament House picture.


Oooh political. This also keeps with the by-laws of Canberra, in that the acronym "A.C.T." must be used as often as possible, even when it doesn't really make sense.


You might have to explain this to people (tulips/two lips) and then punch them in the back of the head.


They should sell this shirt at the Flynn shops. I'd buy one. And yes, I know my Photoshop skills suck, but that's because I don't actually have Photoshop. It looks like eight kinds of awesome anyway.


I'm kind of a bit in love with this shirt. The best thing is, I wouldn't get beaten up for making fun of emos, because they lack the strength due to excessive blood loss.


Be awesome whilst visiting south of the Lake by wearing this shirt. Otherwise, you're just south, and not awesome at all.


This looked a lot better in my head.



Get it? Rocks. Ah fuck you.


Beep beep beep. God bless R2D2.


It took a lot of willpower not to make fun of Todd Carney, but I got there in the end. And I've already got one for next week to post anyway.


If you can't read this shirt, I'd recommend calling 1800655506 for the Reading and Writing Hotline. This also looked better in my head. I'd still wear this one though. Vroom.








Sorry it's been so long between posts for MEBCAM 08, but I've been busy. There'll be more updates next week. I'm excited already.

Mister Evil Breakfast's Canberra Appreciation Month 2008

HMAS Canberra - protecting Kambah Pool from invaders since 1846

August, where have you BEEN?! Welcome once again, to the greatest month in the history of the world... Mister Evil Breakfast's Canberra Appreciation Month! MEBCAM really gets me excited, as I get to lavish praise on the greatest city in the world for an entire month. I mean, I could do it all year, but then people might think I'm a bit sick in the head.


Onto the traditional MEBCAM welcome:

C heese is in abundance at Coles and Woolies, and also at smaller IGA stores and other supermarkets. No lack of cheese here.
A wesome is only one way to describe Canberra.
N ever go to the toilet with Todd Carney.
B arry Hall has been here as recently as yesterday.
E mos and goths are free to laugh at in Garema Place.
R odney Rude is always just one week away from doing another performance here.
R aaaah - dinosaurs are awesome.
A nd I didn't realise how hard these acrostic poems really are.


I don't want to ruin the surprise of MEBCAM, but look forward to some insights into locally-made tv commercials; probably something about pirates, penguins, goats and things from the 80s; where to go and where not to go when you're out and about and in varying states of sobriety; and some made up facts about Canberra's attractions.


Strap yourself in, tigers.

sonny days, chasing the rain away

So... Sonny Bill Williams has decided to turn his back on the National Rugby League (NRL), duck off to France and become a Ruby-Union-playing-cheese-eating-surrender-monkey eh?

Well... I can't say that I have ever been a fan of ol' SBW, but I'm probably less of one right now. And yes, I've been reading stories about him and his contracts and rumours and hearsay and blah blah fucking blah, and all these fucking idiots saying, "LOL SBW did a good thing what if you where offerred three times as much as u where geting at ur job at a nother job down the road LOL off course you wood take it LOL." Good point, illiterate blogger, and yeah, I'd probably take it. But I'd probably also let someone know about it. You know, my friends, workmates, my boss. Just in case, you know, it didn't quite work out. I like to call it "being a decent bloke." Also, if I told people, I might get a farewell afternoon tea, and I quite like cake.

"But MrBerakfast the nrl cant pay him as much LOL he should b fine to sing another contract LOL"

No mate. A contract is an agreement. You’re supposed to honour such agreements. Especially considering that he was earning $400,000 a year, it shouldn’t be too hard to struggle through this one. . He's 22. What the fuck does this kid do with his money that suddenly $400,000 a year (that's over $7,500 a week, excluding endorsements and sponsorship) just isn't quite enough? How much did you earn when you were 22? And you know what he does for a living? He plays football. So far this year, he's played 11 games (and we'd have to assume he's not going to add to that tally), which is around $36,000 a game. The poor lamb, he'd better fuck off out of the country that made him a superstar athlete and earn more money. I fucking hate people sometimes.

Best of luck, Sonny Bill, you fucking hack. Bien venue de la club de crowbar.

why so serious?

I fucking hate computers. I had written the greatest Batman review ever, but it got eaten by cybertronics and was lost. So I'll try again...

Ahem.

I went to see the new Batman film last night, The Dark Knight. And it was awesome. Supercalifreakinawesome, in fact. It was so awesome, that it inspired me to write a review for it. And I only do that to other movies that I find awesome. At this stage, only Rambo has met my awesomeness criteria.

The Dark Knight is the best movie I have seen this year, and as such is the recipient of the Mister Evil Breakfast Award For The Best Movie That I Have Seen This Year (MEBAFTBMTIHSTY). That's high praise, considering that I saw Kung Fu Panda a few weeks ago. That's just how good this movie is. And I know I shouldn't say that, because you're all going to go into the movie with massively unattainable expectation, and you could be disappointed and you'll come out and say, "Hey Mister Evil Breakfast, this movie wasn't all that good LOL!!" And you might want your money back and I couldn't do that, cause I'm a bit broke at the moment.

I'll do my very best not to give too much away in terms of plot, so if you haven't seen it, you might want to not read this until you have seen it. I can recommend reading everything else on my blog instead, cause it's fucking hilarious. Seriously. It is.

First off, everything you've heard about Heath Ledger being megatops is true - and then some. Remember in 1989s Batman movie when everyone was going nuts about Jack Nicholson being the Joker and he was the best thing since cheese on toast? Yeah. In hindsight, you realise that ol' Jacky boy was really just acting like Jack Nicholson in a purple suit and white make-up. No offence, Nicho, but Ledger is face-meltingly good. There is no Heath Ledger in his performance. The gay cowboy and King's Cross strip-club guys were nowhere to be seen here. It's a bit of a shame that we won't see Heath in anything else (except maybe Weekend at Bernie's 3), because I'd be very interested to see where he would have gone from here. It's brilliant, seriously. I have a little man crush. As for the Oscar nod... well, I'd be disappointed if he didn't at least get a nomination. The Joker is scary, man. I peed a little (apologies to the people in the row in front of me for the mess). He's the kind of guy who makes you want to (a) be a psycho killer guy with makeup, and (b) learn more magic tricks.

Christian Bale reprises his role as Batman/Bruce Wayne, and takes a bit of a back-seat in this one, despite it being, you know, a Batman movie. But he's always hanging around, being all Batman-like, a smidge angry, a little psychotic, pretty charismatic and fairly attractive. There's also a nice throwback to the super-camp 1960s Batman tv show where he proves he can pretty much do anything - a "Batman is the only person in the world with a hand steady enough to paint false fingerprints" kind of anything.

The transformation of character between Bruce and Bats is pretty amazing actually - he really is playing two roles. And with the Kevlar armour and cape and glove things apparently comes a larynx scraping with a rusty fork, followed by a gargling of petrol (and not the dodgy unleaded stuff, the really good go-juice that costs like $1.90 per litre), cause his voice is all gravely and he sounds like he's about to cough up a Siberian Husky or something. It's pretty cool actually, and I was turned on just a bit (again, apologies to the row in front).

Aaron Eckhart is also tops... I don't really have much else to say about him. Oh wait, he plays Harvey Dent, an all-round good American guy. Yeah, he goes alright.

The movie is basically a trillion storylines all flowing around like potatoes in a wind tunnel, that all come to a nice little conclusion at the end, and to try and describe them all would be like juggling cans of tinned fruit - impressive, but not entirely entertaining for a long period of time. And I'd probably fuck something up and ruin everything, and besides, I can't juggle for shit. There are also little hints as to another sequel (a trequel, perhaps?), which people will be speculating on for a while yet. My pick: It will be dark. Like, super dark. So dark that you'd need night-vision goggles to watch it. Maybe not, but it'll be dark. It'll make The Dark Knight seem like A Fluoroescent Light Bulb. I'm just hoping that the lads involved in this one (the Nolan brothers, who are officially my favourite brothers ever, beating The Hardy Boys and the Waugh twins) stay around to write and direct it, cause The Dark Knight was tight in all aspects. I almost feel sorry for whoever is the next villain, cause they're gonna need to literally jump out of the screen and grab my eyeballs out of my head to even consider being on par with the Joker and the awesomeness of this movie.

Other bits about this fillum:

· Maggie Gyllenhaal's name is hard to spell properly, even when you're reading it from a piece of paper. It just doesn't look right. Also, she has replaced Katie Holmes in this one, and I'm still not sure if she's hot or not. I think she's ok. I dunno.

· George Clooney is still embarrassed about 1997s Batman and Robin, and rightly so. Arnie is wondering why people didn't think of him for an Oscar for his portrayal of Mr Freeze.

· There are at least two moments where you audibly say, "Ooooh fuck."

· You'll stop yourself the next time you lick your lips.

· Upon leaving the cinema, you won't trust anybody that you're with, but that's ok, because you will have absorbed superhero fighting abilities and you can fight them in the carpark.

· The intro is the most awesome thing you'll ever see, unless you spend your whole life watching awesome things, then you might just be like, "Meh."

Just go see it.

whip hubley

Hollywood movie producers are looking at the little screen for their next big-screen success story, following the recent blockbuster Sex and the City. Based on four promiscuous, not entirely attractive old women, the show was a massive ratings winner for the networks lucky enough to have snagged the rights for it. The stories revolved around Carrie, Charlotte, the redhead chick and Samantha as they looked for love, romance and 'the perfect guy' in New York City, which proved to be quite difficult for the 'charmingly neurotic' women as they continued to find insignificant reasons to break up with decent men. In one episode that I may be making up, Carrie breaks up with her boyfriend after it is revealed that he only pretended to like cats while he was quite clearly more of a 'dog-person', or when Charlotte was urged to "hurry up and get changed" by her boyfriend who had arrived to pick her up for a date at an expensive restaurant that he had to pay for just to get a booking. Here's a newsflash for you, Charlotte: He doesn't care what you wear, just hurry the fuck up before they give the table away.

The series lasted around 90 years, which is also roughly how long the movie goes for. To date, it has grossed over $145,248,592 at the box-office. It is assumed that around $15 of that has come from people who have a set of testicles.

The interest in Sex and the City has also inspired the six main characters of Friends to rejoin for a movie-length episode of the highly-popular sitcom. Questions like: Will Ross and Rachel ever work it out? Will Chandler and Monica ever have a decent argument that's not resolved by one of them saying "I love you"? How do Phoebe and Joey manage to live in nice apartments and always have enough cash to hang around at a cafe all day, go out to dinner every night, see every movie that is released, have season tickets to the baseball, ice hockey and football, plus own designer clothes and throw lavish parties at will despite not having real jobs? are all set to be answered on the big screen.

An insider (i.e. someone with a blog) announced "David Schwimmer and Jennifer Aniston are the first to make positive noises regarding the film and it is thought once they are on board the others will follow suit."

That positive noise is often called ‘talking’, and it is assumed that the Friends actors are looking to add another page to their already impressive resume, which include The Pallbearer (David Schwimmer), Rock Star (Jennifer Aniston), The Whole Nine Yards (Matthew Perry) and Lost in Space (Matt le Blanc).

The TV-to-Movie phenomenon is not just exciting for fans of the original television series, but for the actors themselves, as they finally get more work after less than stellar performances in playing ‘other’ roles.

“Rachel is such a great character to play,” says Aniston. “I figure that since she was so great to play in Friends, it would be great to play her in Office Space and Along Came Polly, which were great movies as well. It was great to be able to show Rachel in a different setting, like, a different café from the one she normally works in.”

Other rumoured small screen adaptations include Family Matters, where Jaleel White will reprise the once-famous Urkel character for a new generation of nerds. “Nerds today aren’t about science projects and calculators,” he has stated in interviews. “Now it’s all about World of Warcraft, the internet and being socially awkward, not socially retarded. It’s a very new approach to Steve Urkel’s character; one that I think will be really fun to play.”

Patrick Duffy has re-signed to play Frank Lambert in a movie-length Step by Step and Dave Coulier is in negotiations to make a comeback as Uncle Joey in Full House, but things aren’t as clear-cut on the set of the Saved by the Bell motion picture, with Dustin ‘Screech’ Diamond the only actor to turn up. “I guess the other guys got new jobs,” he remarks with his head slightly bowed. “Or maybe they’re playing another prank and are hiding in Mr Belding’s office.” After a brief search that reveals nothing, he continues to wait on the set “just in case.”

Australia will also attempt to cash in on the latest Hollywood fad, with several shows rumoured to be getting the treatment, including Pugwall, which features the Orange Organics struggling with the price of fame, fortune and the worst band name ever; as well as a movie-length feature of Con the Fruiterer. “People still relate to Con, I think this will be another step forward for the Australian Film Industry,” actor Mark Mitchell says. “I’ve read a first draft of the script, and it is really, really funny. It’s even better than the stuff I used to do for The Comedy Company. Really.”

let's get ready to rumble

Sorry, I've been busy with my meth lab lately and haven't had time to rap whimsical this week. Or maybe I have, I can't remember. And my stupid poll thing isn't working. Stupid fucking blog shit. I hope you dozen people appreciate the shit I go through for you.

Tippy tippy tipparoos: I got a thousand right last week. I'm pretty awesome.

Panthers vs Broncos
Well, the Broncs will be missing all of their stars through Origin duties, and the Panthers have no stars to miss, so this will be a fairly even contest. The magic coins says heads. I didn't call it, and rather than flip again, I'll just say Panthers to win. I'm not picking scores this week, I embarrassed myself last time.

Roosters vs Dogs
While I'm expecting the Dogs to bounce back fairly solidly after last week's piss-poor performance against the Mighty Bloody Raiders, I still can't tip them. I also hate the Roosters. I don't care about this game, to be honest, but if some guy has your wife tied to a chair and is relying on you to pick a winner before he rips her arms off, I'd tip the Roosters. And if you are in that situation, you should probably re-think your life and try to work out where it all went wrong.

Titans vs Dragons
Hahahaha the Titans lost last week to the Bunnies. I fucking hate the Dragons. Titans to win.

Cowbs vs Rabbitohs
On paper, you'd tip the Cowboys, but since this game is being played for real, I'd have to go for the Bunnies. Craig Wing is back, and some other guy they have is looking tops too. Meanwhile, the Cowboys seem to have been watching Brokeback Mountain instead of Tombstone, and have become... well... gay cowboys. No offence to any gay cowboys out there.

Manly vs Knights
I really have no idea about this one. I have a funny feeling the Knights will get up, but I'm tipping Manly. Life is hard for me sometimes.

Tiggers vs Warriors
I honestly couldn't care less about either of these teams. It's not that I hate either of them, I just don't care for them. Tigers to win, but if that same guy has your wife tied up for this game, I'd probably start thinking about designing some robot arms, cause I'm not confident in either of these teams. Your poor wife.

Eels vs Storm
The Storm have absolutely no-one left to fill the gaps when their players are away. As a result, the Eels should have no problem in smashing the Mexicans. Parra are starting to come good, too.
Raiders vs Sharkies
This should be a pretty good clash. I'm tipping the Raiders, but that's just because I feel bad for not tipping them last week. Also I found my old Raiders jumper, so that's pretty exciting; like an omen or something. Turns out that it was in the spot in my cupboard where I keep my shoes, which is a bit weird. Why would it be in there? Oh the mysteries of life.


For all other sports, tip the home team. Except for the union, my money's on France. I think union is the only sport I like to see Australia lose in. If you go fishing this weekend, don't forget your worms, and check the small boat warning on the news.

Happy Friday!

a winter wonderland

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Winter has begun. Actually, it's about three weeks old now. Brr. Winter is a Czech word meaning "it's a bit cold outside, so take a jacket or you'll catch a chill." Those Czechs have a word for everything. Except for 'sausage roll'. You can't get a sausage roll in Czechoslovakia. True story.

So with Winter upon us, it's high time for

MISTER EVIL BREAKFAST'S GUIDE TO SURVIVING WINTER (MEBGTSW)

HEATER
First and foremost, pop on the heater. Don't worry about the hippies who will be sitting outside your house claiming that you're poisoning the earth with your carbon footprint - they're cold and you're warm. Cutting your toes off and buying smaller shoes will NOT reduce your carbon footprint, by the way. I fucked up there, big time. Also, the more people who bring forth this global warming phenomenon, the better it will be for everyone; we'll need less heaters. If you don't own a heater, try lighting a fire. Fire is man's greatest discovery (well, it's up there with cricket, beer and fire engines), and they're really pretty to watch.

CLOTHES
Let your jumpers and jackets become your best friends over Winter. Little known fact: If a jumper is special to you, it must be called a 'jumpie'. If it gets really cold, keep adding layers of clothing. Eventually, you will find yourself looking like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, and you can wander around your house pretending to be him. If you have people over, tell them what you're doing beforehand, cause the chances of them picking it are slim to none.

CAR
Upon waking, you will find your windscreen has frozen over, and you are unable to see through it whilst driving. This is easily remedied - guesstimate where the road is and drive with your hand on the horn until you think you've arrived at your destination. People WILL get out of your way.

ALCOHOL
You may find yourself with more 'Winter-ish' drinks in your hand as your consumption of spirits increases during the cold months. Also, don't be surprised when you look down and see that you've ordered a Baileys Irish Cream. Just don't forget about your beer, and things will be ok. Everyone gets a limit of 3 "It's Too Cold For Beer" cards (not redeemable for cash, void after 31st August).

WORK
A lot of jobs become optional during the harsh Winter months. Chucking sickies is awesome, and no-one will blame you or ask questions. If people start to get suspicious, make sure you leave a packet of Limsip or Cold n Flu tablets in plain view on your desk.

HEALTH
Sometimes, you may even find yourself chucking a legitimate sickie. The best form of treatment is to lie on the couch with a doona, a pack of Tim Tams and some coffee. Oh, and chicken soup. But don't be afraid to order the occasional pizza or head out to Subway - you still need your jalapeños.

BODY
Your body will react naturally to a change in temperature. If you grow extra body hair, don't be alarmed. It's quite normal - for werewolves. I'd avoid silver bullets and Hugh Jackman. On the plus side, you will become good at basketball (and to a lesser degree, boxing). More likely, you will just get hard nipples more often; no-one really knows why. You can't really do much about it (don't try and protect them with band-aids, you'll rip your tits off), so I say embrace them. Hang things from your erect nipples; earrings and tassels are always fun. Or you could liven up a party by attaching some Roman Candles and Catherine Wheels to them. Be the popular guy at work and use them to carry doughnuts around. Or volunteer in Beijing and have Olympic gymnasts swinging around on them. If you've never had someone 'skin the cat' on your nips, you haven't lived.

GARDEN
For those with a green thumb, it's time for the natural skin colour to return. Winter will kill everything, and your garden is now officially fucked.

ROMANCE
Aaah Winter - a time for warm embraces and Dutch ovens.

PENGUINS
Will take over the world. Fucking watch them.

round 15 tips - NRL

There's been a bit of talk in the rugby league circles this week. Not so much talk in the squares, and the triangles have been deathly silent.

Hello? Is this thing on?



So this is my first blog about footy this year - sorry for everyone who's been relying on my infinite wisdom, but I was waiting until I was officially not last in my tipping comp before I started getting cocky and predicting the future.

Without any further Christine Anu, here are my tips for this weekend...

Treat him right



Bris vs Tiges
Both of these teams got done pretty convincingly last week, but my money is on the Broncs to pick up a lot better than the Tiges. Also, Benji Marshall looks brittle at the moment. If I was massive and a rugby player, I'd run at him. Bris by 12.


Dragons vs Panthers
I have no idea how either of these teams are travelling, to be honest, but I'm pretty sure they both kind of suck. Heads for Dragons, tails for Penrith. Heads it is.


Dogs vs Raiders
This one isn't as clean-cut as it should be - everyone in the world and their pot-belly pigs will tip the Bulldogs, but if I was a man with a plan and $5, I'd pop it on the Raiders to get up. Of course, I'd put $20 on the Dogs, who should have no trouble overpowering the Green Machine.


Storm vs Cowbs
The Cowboys are shit, the Storm are quite good. Tipping is easy. Melbourne by a thOUsand.


Warriors vs Manly
It would be unAustralian to tip Manly. It would be even more unAustralian to tip New Zealand... so Manly to win, despite the fact that it's in NZ. I don't rate 'home ground advantage' at all any more - every fucking player in the comp has a new 'home ground' every year, and when it's pissing down rain and there's a snow-capped breeze coming in, I'm pretty sure the players give less than two shits whether 3,000 spectators brought their flags to the game.


Knights vs Rooters
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Roosters. For no reason, I just think they'll win. It's like one of those premonition things, like Alison Dubois, or that psychic guy who speaks to dead people. Fuck, what's his name? John someone. Crossing Over. You know who I mean.


Sharks vs John Eales
Even though Parra got up nicely last week (and fucked my tips), I'm going to put it out there and say that they can't do it again. Might head down to Centrebet and pop a lobster on them though, just in case. Official tip: Sharkies by 16. Unofficially: Parra by 8.


Rabbits vs Titans
I love the Bunnies. But they won't win. Titans by 20.

mmmm... guava

Letter to Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister of Australia:

Dear Mr Rudd,

Thank you for adding a tax onto alcopops. It really has made a great difference to the 'binge drinking' epidemic that has claimed trillions of young Australians.

At a recent nightclub visit, I purchased a bottle of 'Lemon-Lime Breezer', and did not receive any money back from a twenty-dollar note. Whilst slightly shocked at the price, I felt good to know that this drink was helping to fund... I do apologise, I seem to have lost the information on where this tax money is going. Anyway, I noticed that no-one in the nightclub appeared to be overdosing on guava-flavoured alcohol. Thank god, and it's about time. Your higher-priced alcopops has successfully beaten alcoholism and binge-drinking.

Later in the evening, I was due to 'do a shout', as my friends began calling me a 'stingy fuckwit', which someone later told me is Spanish for 'snappy dresser'. This is true, as my white slacks and mission brown skivvy did match my boat shoes quite well. At the bar, I saw a young chap also purchasing drinks. He must have had quite a few friends, as he was struggling to carry at least eight glasses. 'What drinks have you purchased there, young man?'
'Rum and Coke,' the spirited youth replied over the din of the music.
'You would have been better off to purchase pre-mixed bottles,' I advised. 'That way, you would be able to carry them, or pop them into your pocket and not risk spilling any of them. As it is, you would not be able to put those glasses into your trousers, they might stain your excellent Levis. Plus, you would be helping to provide funds for a better tomorrow for all Australians!'
'Yeah but that would've cost me fucking... I dunno... fucking... like... fucking eighty-thousand bucks!'
'You poor man, you have Tourette's Syndrome, and by the look of it, a lazy eye and one leg shorter than the other. You can barely stand up!'
'Fuck off, you fucking homo,' he said as he bade me good night. I was quite impressed by his knowledge of Latin as he called me a 'modern human'.
'Right back at you... homo!' I replied cheerfully, adding a wink to my remark.

Upon closer inspection of the nightclub, I also noticed that not one person in the establishment was under the age of eighteen (to verify my thoughts, I conducted a poll via the disc-jockey's microphone). Well done, Mr Rudd, you've officially beaten those young'uns. If they weren't in the nightclub, they must obviously have been either in church or sitting at home watching Gilmore Girls with their families.

Or, as I found out, they were happily doing a public service - how delighted I was to find a group of youths near this discotheque sitting on the kerb making sure that no-one was vandalising the cars parked there. They must have been in for the long haul, too, as they were quite intent on drinking a two-litre bottle of Coca-Cola (you might have heard of it, it contains caffeine and sugar) as quickly as they could. 'I am a little sleepy,' I thought. 'Perhaps a quick drink of Coke will refresh me enough to drive home safely.' I asked one of the youths if I may have a tiny taste of his beverage. 'Yes sir,' he said (although his exact words were 'Sure tiger' oh the language of youth!) What a good samaritan he was, looking after my well-being like that. So I took the bottle and had a mouthful.
'I do believe your cola has gone off,' I said to the group. 'This tastes like bourbon.'
The group snickered and walked away; I am assuming they went back to the vendor who sold them the drink to exchange it for a fresher bottle.

Back in the 'old days' (i.e. two weeks ago), I am sure these young people would have been up to their eyeballs in cranberry Archer. Mr Rudd, you are doing a fine job of helping young people better themselves.

Hip hooray to you, good sir.

Love

Mister Evil Breakfast

PS. Please do check my blog - I would like to know if you prefer Lion Voltron or Car Voltron.

i think i know you

You know how when you're walking through the supermarket and you see someone at the end of the aisle, and you think it's your friend, but you're not sure, so you walk slowly closer to them and you keep staring and staring but trying to look casual and they're looking at you and you still can't work it out and then you get close to them and you realise that it's not your friend at all and doesn't even look anything like them and you're worried that you looked weird cause you were staring at them for a long time?
That happened to me today.

But it turns out it was my friend after all.

the things you hear when you have ears...

I just overheard the most fucking stupid conversation ever.
Two ladies walked past me, one wearing a faux fur coat, and the other commenting on it. "I am so against the slaughter of animals," says Comment Lady.
"Me too. The very thought of it just makes me sick," replies Faux Fur. "I couldn't even imagine killing a seal."

No word of a lie. This actually happened.

i before e except after c but not all the time

http://education.guardian.co.uk/schools/story/0,,2284503,00.html

If you're too lazy to click that link, don't worry, I'll be a good kid and summarise it for you. Some arse-hat in the UK has decided that words are too hard to spell for the tykes that live there.

Yep. The English language. Too hard for English kids.

This particular arse-hat is an ex-English teacher and the author of a book entitled "Understanding English Spelling". Kind of defeats the purpose of the book if you have the opinion that it's just too hard, doesn't it? A better title would be "Shit That's Too Hard, Volume I: The English Language". Oh how I would have loved to have been in Ms Arse-hat's English class.
"Ok, let's open our books to page... oh fuck it, who cares what happens to Ishmael? Let's go dance around the Maypole and eat kippers!"
"But Miss, I'd like to read..."
"Poppycock, here's a lighter, make sure you burn all the pages. Let's get drunk and watch Eastenders!"

And yeah, people will be all like, "But Mister Evil Breakfast, words change all the time! People in England used to talk all weird like!!!!"

This is true. But the English language of yore evolved due to peeps becoming more educated, not the other way round. Welcome to the wonderful world of schools, internet, books and cheese, which were relatively rare back in the 1600s. Shakespeare didn't even have broadband. Can you imagine that? The mind boggles as to how Romeo and Juliet would have gone if Romeo's ISP didn't keep fucking out.

Julietgrrl> Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Romeo?
Julietgrrl> i cnt beliv u. get a real fckin connection lol
Romeo16> soz my cuz is dling tf n its fuckin wit my ping lol.
Julietgrrl> lol yeh tf man dat flik wuz da bets
Julietgrrl> lol best
Romeo16> yeh lol

Arse-hat UK teacher and failed author claims that English is 'just too hard'. You know what else is hard? Maths. Maths is fucking hard. Farming is hard. That farm work has a close fucking resemblance to hard work. Eating a hot meat pie that's still frozen in the middle is hard. Patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time? Hard work. My crowbar? Pretty fucking hard too, which you'll come to realise all too late. But you'll find that with a bit of time, practice and patience, you can become good at maths, realise that farming is important, eating pies is awesome, patting your head and rubbing your stomach is satisfying and my crowbar might not find your face.

If people stopped doing shit that was too hard, the English cricket team wouldn't exist, there'd be no Sydney Harbour Bridge, no-one would know how to defeat M.Bison in Street Fighter 2 and Harry Potter wouldn't have married Ginny Weasley. If you haven't read the last Harry Potter book yet, don't read that sentence.

For those who couldn't quite make it through this rant because of all the big words, I've translated it for you:

if ur 2 lzy 2 click da lnk dont wry ill b a gd kid n summrise it 4 u. sum arse-hat in da uk hs dcided dat wrds r 2 hrd 2 spel 4 da tykes dat liv their.

yup. da eng lang. 2 hrd 4 eng kids.

dis particlr arse-hat iz a x-eng teech n da authr of a book calld 'understnding eng speling'. kind of dfeets purpse of book if u hav a opinion dat its jst 2 hrd, dusnt it? a btr title wud b 'shit dats 2 hrd, vol1: da eng lang". o how i wud hav luvd 2 b in ms arse-hats eng class.
'k lets open books 2 pg... o fuck it, who cares wot hppns 2 sum guy? lets go dance round da maypole n eat kipprs lol.'
'bt ms, id like 2 read...'
'nah heres a liter, mk sure u burn al da pages. lets get drnk n watch eastenders lol.'

n yeh peeps wil b al like 'Bt Mista Evl Brekfst, wrds chng al da time! Ppl in eng usd 2 tlk al wird lk!! LOL!!!!'

dis is tru bt da eng lang of ur evlvd dew 2 ppl bcumng mo eductd nt da otha wy round wlcm 2 da wundaful wrld of schls net bks n chese wich wr rl8ivly rar bak in da 1600s. shakes dint hav bband cn u imagin dat da mnd boggls as 2 how romz n julz wud hav gon if romz isp dint kp fking out.

Julietgrrl> Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Romeo?
Julietgrrl> Oh dear, this is terrible. Your internet connection appears to be in Struggletown.
Romeo16> I do apologise, but my cousin is downloading Transformers which is causing my computer to run at a slower rate than is usual.
Julietgrrl> Transformers? I quite enjoyed that movie.
Romeo16> I thought it sucked.

arsehat uk teech n fald auth sez dat eng iz 'jus 2 hrd lol.' u no wot els is hrd?
maths. maths is fckin hrd. farm is hrd. dat farm wrk hs a close resblance 2 hrd wrk. eating ht meet pie dats still frzn in da mid is hrd. pat ur hed n rub yr tum at da same time? hrd wrk. my cro br? prity fckin hrd 2 witch ull cum 2 realis al 2 l8. bt ull fnd dat wiv a bit mo time prac n patients u cn bcum gd @ mths realis dat frming is imp eatn pis is awsum pat ur hed n rub ur tum is satsfng n my cro br mite nt find ur face.

if peeps stop doin shit dat wuz 2 hrd da eng crick teem wudnt exist theird b no syd brdge no1 wud no how to beat bison in sf2 n harry potter wudnt hav marry gin weasly. if u havnt red da lst harry dnt red da sentence.

LOL.

You can find the perfect blend

The Neighbours bus and a mysterious floating head


Neighbours has been a mixed bag of emotions lately. I keep missing episodes, so I'm just going to fill in any gaps with random musings about the time I fed my antelope some guarana.

So... Carmella is all depressed because Marco is working too much to support her and her ex-boyfriend's baby. Poor Carmella. Did anyone else notice that when Carms was nominated for a Logie, her character disappeared from the show? Yeah. I found that weird too. She's also stealing money. From her boyfriend. Carmella is awesome. She's also afraid to give a direct profile to the camera, and will always tilt her head away from whoever she's talking to so the viewers don't see it. It's kind of off-putting, to be honest.

Bridgette, or "Didge" as she is known around the Erinsborough universe, has had a rough time of late. She was in some kind of horribly filmed car accident and couldn't walk properly for a few weeks. Then she could walk properly, and is fine and dandy. Maybe Ramsay Street is like the island on "Lost" and people recover from things really quickly. Hope so, cause she'll probably need it if she stays in the show. She's quite accident prone. See, she went to her school formal with some guy who's about 90 years old (evil guy Chris) and he tried to get jiggy with her and have the secks but she was all like "nuh uh" and did a runner. Because he was displaying Natural Man Talent, he caught up with her. Didge gave him a mighty shove (also displaying signs of NMT) and evil guy Chris fell over (Didge may have absorbed his NMT through osmosis or something) and died. I've fallen over a lot, and am still here to tell the tale. Well, the tales that I can remember, usually I'm a bit pissy when I fall over. But that's just me. Anyway, evil guy Chris lacks the ability to break falls and smacks his noggin on a rock and dies. Turns out that killing people is against the law, and the piggies come around and harass Didge about it, and her dad Steve (Steve Bastoni, who has obviously been munching pies non-stop since Police Rescue finished in 1993) is all like, "Forget about him trying to rape you, I'll just say I killed him." "Sure thing dad, you're tops." "Seriously? You're going to let me do this?" "Yeah, thanks dad. Hey, you mind if I go to the General Store and hang out with my friends?" "Um.. I'm going to jail." "Yeah. Anyway, catch you later."

Meanwhile, Didge's bruz Riley and their aunt (Imogen Bailey, who is NOT HOT AT ALL) are getting all friendly in a car. Gross. Making out with your aunt is not cool, and even less so if she's ugly. Next thing we know, Riley pisses off to Iraq to cover the war there. Turns out that the local newspaper that he works for is expanding from its circulation of fifteen and is now interested in international stories. Well, they'd better send their best journalist, cadet Riley, who has been there on and off for about two months. Sweet gig, man.

Paul Robinson, who looks a little bit like Robbie Williams will in about 30 years, is still doing the dirty on his wife, girlfriend, mistress and fiancee all at once. Turns out that's a bit naughty, and Paulie gets into a spot of trouble with the entire world. In a rare piece of acting, Paul props himself up on a bar and proceeds to knock his arse off with scotch. Enter wife Rebecca. Paulie, who's had enough booze to sober up my guarana-drenched antelopes, is off his trolley and can't quite get proper words out, but the emotions were there. Rebecca, also in a rare display of acting, fights her instincts to take him back and gives him the heave-ho. Poor Paulie.

Toadie is awesome. He's decided to adopt a child. As soon as he fills out the application form, it's accepted and the adoption agency pops a Portugese kid in an express envelope and posts him. It's that easy. No police checks, no inspections of the house, no questions as to whether Toadie will ever get rid of the goatee, nothing. The Toadster then heads out to Toys R Us and spends a trillion dollars on toys and clothes and games and some Tonka trucks. I wish Toadie adopted me. The fact that Toad is so keen about this kid probably means that trouble is brewing, and Miguel will never arrive. Poor Toadie. Anyway, that's my prediction, I might be wrong.

Then there's Toadie's housemates, married couple Dan and Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember, but is played by Simone Buchanan, from Hey, Dad! fame. Apparently the done thing in Erinsborough is to get a house, get housemates, get married, get more housemates, and then have kids. Whatever you do, don't get rid of your housemates. In fact, when your housemates get married, they should stay with you in the house. And their kids. And their kids' friends.

Anyway, Dan and Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember are trying for a baby. Well, Chick Whose Name I Can't Remember is, in any case. Trouble is, she’s on medication for bi-polar disease, no doubt in a feeble ploy to create some interest in mental health issues. So, in order to get pregnant, she gets off the meds, and then lies her tits off and tells the world and their antelopes and goats that she’s preggers. Well, everyone except her husband. I can see this ending badly for those two.

Libby, on the other hand, is trying not to be attracted to Dan, and FAILING. He’s not helping by being all mopey about his wife though. Meanwhile, Libby’s housemate, Dean Geyer of Aussie Idol fame (the South African bloke), is trying his metrosexual little balls off to get into Libby’s pants. I hate it when Neighbours brings in shithouse 'celebrities' from reality tv shows, cause they always have to skew the already shithouse storylines to incorporate the new shithouse talent. With that other bloke, Ned, he formed a band with Carl. WHAT THE FUCK? This Dean bloke, he's trying to get Rachel to join his band. Surely there are some actual actors out there that can be brought in? Anyway... Rachel, Susan and Carl’s adopted daughter, is trying to catch Dean’s eye as well, but pretending that she’s not. Rachel has just been caught doing the dirty with her Maths teacher, so Dean should probably watch out for himself. Maths is important. Stay in school, kids.

Susan and Carl continue to be the fine, upstanding citizens that they are. Kind of annoying, really. Carl especially. Fuck I hate that guy.

And now you’re as up to date as I am. You can thank me later.

leprosy

I think that if someone you know loses their arms, you shouldn't hug them. They can't hug you back and it would be kind of like rubbing it in.

Click click click

This guy lives inside your computer.


It's a technical world we live in, with interwebs and digital phones and electricity and the wheel and all that. From a survey that I just conducted in my work building, 100% of people will encounter a computer during their day-to-day lives, whether at work, at home or when they're playing Nintendo whilst driving. In fact, if you're reading this, the chances are quite high that you're on a computer now, unless you've just jacked into the Matrix or something, and Tank has put the "Mister Evil Breakfast" program on instead of teaching you how to fly a helicopter or teach you how to do karate. That would suck, although my blog does give you advanced crowbar and pirating skills, so they might come in useful against Hugo Weaving at some stage.

Anyway, with all of these computer screens and infobytes of gigamation floating around the cybertron, it's almost inevitable that at one stage you will encounter some technical problems. Lucky for you, I am here to help.

MISTER EVIL BREAKFAST'S GUIDE TO COMPUTER PROBLEMS AND FUCKUPS AND SHIT (MEBGTCPAFUAS)

Problem 1: My computer is running slowly.

If your computer program is loading slowly, and the hourglass icon thing is taking for-fucking-ever to do whatever it does, you should idly swirl your mouse around. Make a big circle, and increase the speed in concentric circles. This should help to keep the computer 'thinking' about loading it, as the average computer has the attention span of the entire Big Brother cast, and occasionally needs to be given some guidance. If your computer is being a real shit about it, and the swirl doesn't help anything, physically lift your mouse off the desk or mousepad and repeatedly bash it down, followed by rapid clicking of the left and right mouse buttons.

If that sounds too technical, try this scenario: Pretend that you're in a bad movie, like Transformers, for instance. What a complete fucking waste of time that was. Nice to look at for about six seconds until you realise that you're not entirely sure who or what you're looking at. But it did look pretty. Anyway... your best friend is dying. Pretend that your computer program is your best friend. Pretend that your best friend has just been shot. At first, you're trying to comfort them (mouse swirl) and you're trying to keep their mind off the burning hot piece of metal that has lodged in their chest. As their health quickly deteriorates, you begin to panic, pleading with them "not to give up, and keep fighting" (mouse bash). With a gurgle and a dramatic piece of music, they die. You mourn the loss with anger - life is pretty unfair, really. You shout and swear at the body of your dead friend, curse the situation, and punch a wall before accepting the loss (mouse click). Before you know it, you'll have got revenge on whoever did it, found love and by the time you've finished paying respects at the gravesite, your program will have loaded.

I know it sounds complicated, but this should get you back on your feet, and your best friend won't even be mentioned in the sequel.

Problem 2: My computer isn't responding

This is a common problem, and often follows Problem 1 if the right steps aren't taken. Here's what to do:

Press the Enter key.

Nothing will happen. Be patient. Press Enter again, twice in succession. Pause for a moment. Press Enter a few more times (up to ten is helpful). Sit and stare dejectedly at your computer screen. Possibly close your eyes in a dramatic fashion and exhale loudly. Perhaps you could even scrunch your eyes up tight and rub your forehead - these are all helpful to getting your computer back up and running. If you have done all of these things, get up from your seat, take a few (no more than four) steps away from the screen. Make it look like you're determined to go somewhere. All of a sudden, turn and take two long, quick strides back to your computer (don't sit down, just crouch over it) and hit Enter again. Hard; really smash that fucker. Hit it (hard) again a few more times, and verbalise how you feel about your computer, but make sure your teeth are clenched. If the document you're working on is very important, you should also try to have a few flecks of spittle escape your angry lips onto the screen. It should have a rainbow effect, and will calm both you and your computer.

If it doesn't work, repeat these actions until it does. Note: It could take a while; one Microsoft Word user claimed that he repeated these steps for 3 days straight, then had to take shifts with his friends and family. After six weeks, two days, eight hours and nine minutes, his document was recovered. Turns out he hadn't really done that much work on it anyway, and everyone was pretty annoyed with him.

Problem 3: My screen is displaying a strange message

Occasionally, your computer will just get sick of you asking it to do things, and will turn the tables and ask you a question. If you aren't sure of the answer, you can just turn off your monitor and pretend that nothing has happened. However, this is only a stop-gap solution and you might want to use your computer again later on. In most questions that your computer will ask, there will be a YES, NO and CANCEL option. If you have no idea what the question means, there are simple ways to get around performing tasks that could be dangerous to the health of your computer. Click things very slowly, or press keys lightly, and most importantly - hold your breath. Don't make any sudden movements, or your computer will be startled and erase things that you need. Don't ask anyone else around you what the question means or what the consequences of hitting YES or NO would be - your computer will feel threatened by the new person and will shut itself down and all of your data will be eaten in self-preservation. Computers are ancient, instinctive creatures. Treat them like you'd treat a nest of scorpions in your underpants.

Problem 4: My computer isn't reheating my coffee

Try the microwave. If you don't own a microwave, you should just make yourself a new coffee.

Problem 5: My Sim keeps killing himself when I get him to change the lightbulb

Make him/her read a book on mechanics. Any Sim with a level 1 or 2 skill should be able to perform this task safely. If you're really paranoid, call a handyman to fix it.

Problem 6: My computer displays the following message:
NTLDR is Missing.
What can I do?

Fuck it, buy a new computer. When acronyms go missing in your hard drive, you will NOT be able to bring them back. This is why no-one uses DOS anymore. It just caused problems when the D wouldn't turn up, and when the O and the S had a falling out and wouldn't be seen with the other. It was messy.

Happy cyberspacing, my little pwnies!

Egg Man #1

Click on it and it will become magically bigger.

Behold the wonders of the interwebs technology.

To infinity and beyond

If you were an astronaut, you know what would suck? If your astronaut buddies kept kinking your oxygen line and you couldn't breathe while you were in space. Talk about annoying!

My ANZAC Spirit

I am a crap Australian - I have never been to the dawn service on ANZAC Day. I haven't seen anyone march, except for the highlights on the evening news. I have barely spoken to anyone who served about what they did during wartime. I am one of those shit blokes who uses ANZAC Day for another piss-up and a day off from work. It's another excuse to drink too much, bet too much and wake up late on Saturday a little bit dusty with a pocket full of coins, a stolen schooner glass and a sign-in slip from the Belconnen Labour Club.

I missed another dawn service due to watching the stupid IPL cricket on Thursday night - I just wanted to see Warney bowl again, even if it was just in a shit game of Twenty20. That's how good a bloke I am. I fell asleep on the couch after his first couple of balls (he did get a wicket though) and woke up during the infomercials. I once again resisted the urge to buy an eliptical exercise machine. I just don't see how it's better than everything else on the market, despite their graphics of glowing muscle groups and before-and-after photos of Captain Flabby morphing into Emperor Ripped Pecs. Maybe it's the disclaimer of "Results not typical".

I had been a good little Aussie and bought a pin from the old ducks at Woden that afternoon. At 4am that day, I realised that it was now stabbing me in the chest, and I was in unbearable pain. Now I know how those diggers felt as they were being shot. Yep, I actually likened a bullet to lying on a small badge. I angrily took it off (which took a lot longer than it should have, but I had fallen asleep on my arm and couldn't move my hands quite as freely as I would have liked) and put it on the seat next to me. I think it fell down behind the cushion, no doubt I'll stab myself with it soon and be angry all over again.

Upon waking, I did my part to be as top an Aussie as I could be and ate some Vegemite toast to give me fuel for "going over the top", which was actually just me going to the pub with my mates. We must have walked about a kilometre, and complained the whole way. It was unseasonably warm, after all. Those diggers had it easy. At one stage I had to take my jumper off. War is hell? Pfft. Try walking with a jumper tied around your waist.

Arriving at the pub, I decided I'd been a battler long enough, and I deserved a few drinks. My seat at our table meant that I was facing the AFL game. I hate AFL. It was like watching your best mate getting gunned down next to you. Now I knew how the diggers felt.

"Deserving a few drinks" pretty much sums up the rest of my day, although at one stage I begrudgingly handed over a few lobsters ($20 notes) to a guy in a pink shirt after the old adage "tails never fails" let me down. Actually, it was more than one stage, as that old adage definitely did NOT prove to be very true at all. A pink-shirted, hair waxed (from the back) metro bloke with a studded belt took my cash. I felt like I'd been put in the front line for the next assault into No Man's Land.

I also stole a McDonalds cheeseburger from my mate after he had passed out ("Shoes are off! I was asleep!") on his couch. It was like taking the ration pack of a fallen soldier as he lay on the battle ground with a gunshot wound to his stomach.

Worst bloke ever.

Lest we forget.

it's time

As I was galavanting around the city the other day, skipping merrily through the traffic cones and windscreen-washers, I noticed something. I was the only fuckwit around. I checked my watch (I don't actually have a watch, but I do have a drawing of a compass on my wrist) and realised that it was THAT time again. I should have realised... The fat people on The Biggest Loser aren't as fat as they once were, the dancers on So You Think You Can Dance... well, they're still dancing, possibly moreso than they previously were... It's time for Big Brother to grace our screens once again.

It's time for 16 spastics to be plucked from the streets and thrown into a house on the Gold Coast where they can fondle each other, themselves and Kyle Sandilands.

It's time to wonder whether showering in speedos would actually get you clean. It's time to listen to the riveting conversations of 18-year old Meghaan and 22-year old Ryder discussing "life experiences" when one night Meghaan lost her mobile phone and was all like, you know, totally like freaking out. It's time when "yeah nah" becomes an acceptable phrase.

No wonder I drink more when Big Brother is on.

It's time to read a book.

prost!

Scene: Open on the bedroom window; the sun is bright, finding its way between chinks in the curtain and right into your eyes. Zoom into eyes; they are bloodshot and unfocussed. Pull back - you are sprawled sideways across your bed, your hair looks like fifteen manky rats decided to have an orgy on your head. You lick your lips and try to swallow, but every ounce of hydration has been sucked out of your body. You groan, roll over and try to go back to sleep.

This screenwriting thing is easy. Welcome to having a hangover, by the way.

MISTER EVIL BREAKFAST'S GUIDE TO HANGOVERS.

First off, I would just like to announce that this is not a hangover cure per se, it is merely offering advice as to what to do in the event of a hangover occurring. Once you have a hangover, there's not much that can be done except ride the wave out.

For the first-time hangover readers out there, your only previous hangover experience will probably have been from movies. Don't be fooled. In the movies, a character will hold their head and say, "Uuuh my head," be offered a Panadol and they'll be running marathons in the next scene. Movies suck.

If you wake up with a hangover, it is assumed that you have indulged in the over consumption of alcohol the night before. It doesn't matter what kind of alcohol, whether it was beer, wine or spirits, the outcome is very much the same. It's too late to worry about drinking too much now, what's done is done. Accept the fact that you have a hangover quickly; it will make the rest of the day slightly more bearable.

Step 1: Empty your pockets

For no other reason than to see how much money you have. INTERESTING FACT #3279: After every night out, you will come home with money in your pocket that is made up of 89% coins. INTERESTING FACT #3280: If you're me, you'll also bring home a few shotglasses/wineglasses/water features. Anyway, these coins will come in handy later on. While you're digging through your jeans from last night, you might want to check your phone. A hangover often signifies that you were acting slightly differently than you otherwise would if alcohol had not been present - make sure you didn't call anyone that you shouldn't have. If you did, make a note to call back and apologise. Not right now though, you're in no shape to be talking.

Step 2: Shower

A shower is the most necessary thing in the world right now. You smell like 4-day arse. Get in, tiger. Depending on the ferocity of your hangover, you may want to sit down in the corner of your shower and just let the water fall over you. Adopting the foetal position is not a bad thing at all, just remember to occasionally adjust the temperature of the water, because you're probably in for the long haul if this is your chosen shower position, and that hot water is not going to last forever. Other favourite positions are the "Paris Hilton", where you wrap your mouth around the showerhead and try to keep up with the flow; the "Climate Control", where you start with your back against the cold tiles while your chest and stomach are pelted with hot water. After about 30 seconds, turn around. Repeat until you get too dizzy or the water turns cold. And finally, the "Pregnant Lady", where you stand with your hands folded over your belly and your chin thoughtfully resting on your chest.

Step 3: Food

Everyone has their comfort food, and people swear by different kinds; the greasy, bacon laced burger with extra cheese and a giant fuck-off cup of Coke works for some. Others will hock into a box of donuts. Some drink Mountain Dew and eat Jatz crackers with dip; I've seen others numbly shove handfuls of dry Frosties into their mouths. This is where your leftover coins come in handy: give them to someone (anyone at all - a housemate, a boyfriend / girlfriend / parent / sibling / neighbour / paperboy / homeless man) to go and get you food while you take it easy on the couch. You have a big day of sitting around being hungover to get through; you need to conserve your energy.

Step 4: Activities

Old faithful, the television can come in quite handy right about now. Something needs to entertain you. Normal television programming will probably not suffice, unless there's a Channel 9 special of "Classic Sports Bloopers" or "Russell Gilbert Isn't Funny: Here's Proof" that is on that day. Pop in a DVD (the worse the film, the better you'll feel), and sit back and 'chillax'. Also, if anyone tells me to chillax while I'm hungover, they'll definitely be getting a crowbar swung lazily at them. And then, when I'm feeling more spritely, it'll be swung harder, with more purpose, and will look more like a chainsaw.

You might also like to go outside if the weather is fine. And this is where the fun can begin again:

Step 4A: The recount

Catch up with the people you went out with the night leading into your hangover. Since you will all be in a similar state, things will automatically become hilarious due to lack of hydration, lack of sleep and residual drunkenness that all robs the thought processes of common sense. You should swap stories about what you can remember from the night, discuss how disgusting you all feel, offer insights into your attempts to converse with your cab driver, and dangerously, try to work out whose shout it was when the night was abandoned.

Step 4B: The Hair of the Dog

Before you know it, you may just find yourself with another pint of delicious, cold beer in your hand. It may have started as a joke when someone suggested having a beer, it may have been someone buying you a beer to apologise / thank you for something that happened the night before, or it might have just been a natural reaction to order a beer whenever you leave your house to see your mates. In any case, you are now officially drinking again.

You may find that the first drink is hard to swallow, both literally and metaphorically. The taste will be off, the liquid will sit thick and heavy in your gut, and your brain will tell you that it's a bad idea. You must ignore your brain, for the first glass at least. If another beer is presented or offered, accept it and have a sip. The first sip of the second drink will tell you whether you've managed to convince your brain that drinking is still a good idea. The taste will be better, it will be lighter in your stomach and your head will feel a bit more relaxed (you might even be able to say 'chillaxed' around me by now). If, by the third glass, your brain is still saying 'no', it means that it's probably a good idea to stop drinking. If you want to be childish about it though, you can continue trying to convince your brain to let you keep drinking, and turn to shots a lot earlier than you normally would. If this is the case, try to imagine a kid who is trying to get his mum to buy him a Power Ranger toy. The mum says, "No." The kid cries. Mum ignores it. Kid keeps crying, wailing on the floor, calling for the Power Ranger. Mum says, "No." There's your 'third drink', so to speak. The fourth drink, or the 'shot' in this case, would be the kid taking the car keys, jumping in the Subaru and heading down to K-Mart and putting the entire Power Rangers line on mum's credit card.

Sometimes, people, you need to steal a car to get a Power Ranger. That's all I'm saying.

The Hair of the Dog approach is only good for so long. You should stop drinking when all symptoms of being hungover have dissipated and you're getting a bit pissy. If you cannot read that last sentence out-loud, you have officially stepped over the 'pissy' line and you have become 'drunk again'.

If the next morning begins much the same as this one, you should follow Steps 1 - 3 again, perhaps twice over, but do NOT go to "Hair of the Dog". Sometimes you just take too much fur from that puppy, and he's looking decidedly shabby by now.

Drink in moderation and stuff, lest you become one of those guys who invites himself onto a random table and dribbles nonsense to anyone who will listen.

That said: I'll cook breakfast if you go get beers.

Manners are free

If you are at a disco and you get asked to dance, the polite thing to do is say yes. If you own a stair-building company, and someone asks you to build stairs, you should also say yes. However, don't dance on the stairs until the concrete or glue has set, unless you are both very light on your feet. Sometimes you have to be impolite to save lives. Ask to see dance certificates beforehand, you can't always trust people who just want to dance on your new stairs.

eggs

And thanks for coming, Easter. Nice of you to pop by.

How tops is Easter? Very tops. It probably wasn't tops for Jesus as he got to 'hang out' on Calvary for a while, with not much to do, people stabbing him and banging nails into his arms and legs and all that, which I'd say is (a) annoying and (b) painful. But anyway, we got 4 days off work to eat, drink and be merry with mountains of chocolate and whatnot, so it's tops for us.

And somewhere, there's a rabbit. Handing out eggs. Made of chocolate.

Stupid Easter, makes no sense. Lucky I got days off work.

And, I got to see this:




I love you, Llama in a Car.

A rollicking, feel-good family adventure

Rambo - rated R18+

I'll just kick it right off here - Rambo is the greatest film ever.

Considering that there's about a page and a half of script, being the greatest film ever is even more of an accomplishment. This is an action film (Rambo was never going to translate well as a romantic comedy or musical) of the highest order, and is chock-full of scenes where you keep repeating "oooooh shit" and "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck". You'll pee a little, it's just that good.

The 'story' starts off with a bunch of do-gooder boy scouts going to Burma to do do-gooder boy scout stuff - help with medical shenanigans, read bibles, show them how to line dance and so on. All very nice. Love love love. We're introduced to the situation in Burma courtesy of some actual footage of Burmese soldiers being pretty evil fuckers, shooting peeps and beheading peeps and generally not being nice peeps to other peeps. It's pretty full on, and you get that funny feeling that a whole bunch of explosive-tipped justice is going to be handed out.

Some stuff that doesn't involve anyone being killed happens, so I won't go into much detail about that - I'd probably catalogue the next ten minutes or so under "character development". The fact that Stallone has one look for the entire film (and that look says "fuck you") make these scenes almost unnecessary except as an excuse to show some snake-wrangling, and I'm a sucker for snake-wrangling scenes.

The boy-scout missionaries are captured by evil Burmese soldiers, which is bad news for them, but good news for us, otherwise we'd just be watching Rambo sit around, reading books and going fishing and doing ironing and stuff (actually, there is a fishing scene, but done Rambo style, which automatically makes it awesome). Instead, he goes out into the jungle to rescue them, accompanied by a band of ex-Navy Seals and SAS dudes. The troops are really only there to share in Rambo's awesomeness, and also to get into trouble so he can save them and continue being so awesome at everything. They're a decent bunch of guys, and are able to tell the audience enough about themselves in one line of dialogue of what to expect from them. Things like:
"Just cause I'm a redneck doesn't mean I can't read!"
"They always called me Schoolboy, even back in sniper training."
"I'm an old, cranky man, but I eat nails and shit bullets."

So hooray, we know who everyone is. Redneck, sniper, old man. Gotcha. You know how everyone loved the sniper in 'Saving Private Ryan'? That guy sucks. This new Rambo sniper dude is the duck's nuts, my friends. It made me go out and join a sniper squad. All I have at the moment is a broom that I point at people, but still... are you in a sniper squad? No. Didn't think so.

So they go upstream to where the missionaries were last seen, and the troops tell Rambo to "stay with the boat". We all know Rambo isn't going to "stay with the boat", and thank fuck for that. I didn't pay $15 to watch Rambo play cards while he waits for some other dudes to kill an army and rescue some churchies. And hey, if anyone told Rambo to "go fish", they'd have their legs ripped off and replaced by sticks of dynamite. I'm pretty sure that by this point, Rambo wasn't even thinking of that pile of ironing that he had to do back home, either. So again, good news for us.

During filming, they basically got to this point of the film when Stallone forgot to bring his script to the set. "Let's just blow stuff up from here on in," he says, and because he's (a) Rambo, (b) writer and director, and (c) the best, no-one argued.

And it's glorious. I felt like I was showering in intestines and rolling around in half a cadaver. Reminded me of the good old days.

Sly, you're not too old to do anything. I love you.

Rambo scores fairly highly on the Mister Evil Breakfast Rating Of Movies That I May Or May Not Have Seen (MEBROMTIMOMNHS), and is recommended to everyone in the universe.

cheese

You know when someone asks you to take a photo of them with their camera, and they say, "It's just this button here"? Thanks moron, I have seen a camera before. The button is rarely hidden away on the underside of it.

The next time someone does it to me, I'm going to exclaim that it's the most unique camera I've ever seen, and tell them that I'm taking it to a laboratory where they can examine this unprecedented specimen of photographic power.

But really, I'll just sell it.

Acchio zap zap!

If you ever find yourself with wizard powers, you probably shouldn't use them for personal gain, like to make your lasagne taste really good. What if you entered it into a lasagne-making contest and you won? I think you'd feel guilty that you used your wizard powers. Unless it was a contest for wizards, then it would be acceptable.

Who's the distributor? Who's the slingshotter? The whippest?

Ponting sleeps at first slip


http://www.foxsports.com.au/story/0,8659,23327197-23212,00.html

This will be my last cricket post for a while. It's footy season now, anyway. Go Raiders.

In case you don't follow the link above, I've gone to the trouble of summarising it for you. Because I love you.

Basically, Mr Ricky Chipmunk Fucking Ponting has called for "fresh blood" to be brought into the Aussie cricket team. This comes after they were humiliated by a group of pre-pubescent Indians who exploited the Aussies' inability to hit, catch or bowl a cricket ball. I hope Chipmunk realises that this means that he's just asked for someone to sack him.

Chipmunk Punter has given the excuse of being "overworked" in the past year. Ahem. Australia played 6 test matches and 30 or so one-day internationals. If each test match went for 5 days (and they didn't), you would have played something like 35 days worth of cricket. I'll be generous and give you an extra 15 days. 50 days out of a year isn't a lot of work, tiger. Drink your fucking cowboy juice (don't forget your shithouse vitamins as well) and TOUGHEN THE FUCK UP.

Welcome to your last year as an Australian player, Richard T. Ponting. Your uselessness as captain will be quickly found out as you realise that you can't just throw the rock to McGrath or Warne when you're looking for wickets, and you can't rely on someone like S.R. Waugh to knuckle down and bat out two hours of hostile fast bowling. Thanks for announcing your retirement, Ricky. We'll miss you like someone misses a genital rash.

Allan Bradman Border Boonie Medal Awards of Recognising Excellence from Silly Point Third Man Gully

Well, the AB Medal is over for another year. And that's a good thing, because it means we won't have to see the Rogue Traders performing again until the ARIAs, the Logies, or whenever it rains at the cricket and they use Natalie Bassingthwaite's nostrils as a cover.

Well done to Brett Lee for picking up the AB Medal for being generally tops. A big FUCK YOU to Matt Hayden for winning the One-Day Player Award, just fucking retire already, you creepy old man, and congrats to whichever idiots won the trophies that no-one cares about (State player, Young Talent, Women's award and the Lewis-Duckworth prize for most confusing selection in a sporting team, which was incidentally, once again won by Shane Watson).

Notice how Ponting's massive form slump began when I started threatening to crowbar him? Notice that he got a ton when I stopped? Yep. I have the power.




Here's a picture of Ponts (and trophy wife Rhianna) from the Awards ceremony. See how he's on the lookout for an unknown assailant with a crowbar? See the woman in the red dress behind him? That could have been me, Punter. Sleep with one eye open.

Shopping is awesome

Like a tiger. The head of Telstra is awesome too, just like me.





Dear Shopping Centre Patrons,

I'm sure you will agree with me when I say that shopping centres are awesome. You can wander around and buy things, pretend to buy things, see a movie, steal the dividers between band names in CD shops, grab a bite at the food court, throw food at people in the food court, buy a Boost Juice and look cool, try on clothes that you don't like, sit on furniture that you can't afford, try on hats, pretend you're interested in buying a giant plasma tv, talk to some guy about connecting your house to Foxtel and walk away as he's preparing the paperwork, stand outside the bank and wait for it to open since it's there to 'meet your needs', wonder if it's too late to buy rollerblades, set off all the wind-up toys at the same time, and generally annoy people. Annoying people is awesome, but only when I do it.

Something that's not awesome is when there are way too many other people who distract me from being awesome, and just make me angry. I'm not saying it's you, Shopping Centre Patron, but it just might be.

One of the scourges of our great centres, plazas, malls, arcades and boulevards are people who stop for no reason. There's nothing interesting in the shop window, there's no one talking to them, they didn't just realise that they left the stove on. Perhaps they can't walk and breathe at the same time. Sudden Stoppers beware: I am not a fan of bumping into people I don't know (unless it's during a random game of Hoppo Bumpo), and so the next person who does this to me, especially at either end of an escalator, is going to get a good punch in the back of their head. You've been warned.
And what's the dealio with escalators? They're not a ferris wheel, Patrons of the Shopping Centre. It's not a fucking ride. Just because they move doesn't mean that you have to stop. And if you're an ugly emo teenager with an ugly emo teenage boyfriend/girlfriend, a trip on the escalator does NOT mean you have permission for an ugly 15-second make-out session.

Children are also now officially banned from escalators. No, they're banned from shopping completely. They get in my way far too often. Same with old people. From now on, shopping centres have an age limit between 10 and 70. If you're not between those ages, and you decide to head into Sanity to see if the new Garth Brooks CD is out, you'd better hope I'm not there, cause there'll be fists of fury coming your way. That Garth Brooks CD is mine. All of them.

If you are a parent of a child, show them some respect and don't buy them a "I'm a 12-year old slut" t-shirt. The fact that she's wearing fuck-me-boots and already has a hole in her fishnets gives it away anyway. Why would any decent parent let their 12-year old slut walk around with "I give good head" on their t-shirt? Both of you are getting a taste of my crowbar. I'm hoping that your tastebuds are located at the back of your head, cause that's where it's going.

To avoid becoming a statistic, stick to these simple rules:

Don't piss me off by being too young, too old, too stupid, a slut or the parent of a slut.

Easy.

I hope that this letter is the first step forward to a new level of awesome in the world of shopping for all of us.

love Mister Evil Breakfast

PS. If anyone else is in the Bob the Builder truck or the Wiggles' Big Red Car when I want a ride, you're getting your arse kicked.