How To Order a Pizza

Step 1.  

Ring pizza place.

Step 2.  

Say, “Hi, I’d like to order a pizza.”

Step 3.  

Realise you’re a dickhead and hang up.

Step 4.  

Ring up again a few minutes later and put on a different voice so the pizza guy doesn’t think that you’re the same dickhead who rang earlier for “a pizza.”

Step 5.

Be told, "It’s a Saturday night; the driver could be some time,” which is code for: "it’ll take long enough that you forget that you even thought about ordering a pizza" and so you watch another episode of something, or crack another beer, which undoubtedly means that you are going to forget about it entirely, who knows, you might even talk the wife into some impromptu sexy time. More realistically, maybe you decide to play some Mario Kart. "OK, man, you're tied. Rainbow Road. You SUCK at rainbow road. Alright, focus. You got this. Koopa Troopa all day."

And then that knock at the door. FUCK!  Pizza!  You don't have plates out, no napkins, no nothing. You also possibly don't have pants on, but more likely you were startled by the buzzer, thus dropping the controller, THUS eating shit off the edge of that fucking Rainbow Road and losing again.  I bet Princess Peach even beat me. What an absolute fuck face.

Step 6.  

Answer the door and grab your pizza.  I mean, everything is pretty much fine, but fucking hell, why does this always seem to happen?

My TV is spying on me... and it's really, really bored.

Idiots all over Australia are pissing their pants in anger over their Samsung Smart TV’s ability to recordprivate conversations and send the information to a “third party.”  I’m actually surprised that anyone who had a voice-activated television would be bothered to complain about anything, to be honest. 

It all sounds a bit scary, and even people who have never read George Orwell’s 1984 will be complaining about Big Brother (and how Lawson should never have cheated with Kat, and like, what’s going on with Leo?).  But what they’re not really getting is the fact that “Big Brother” has been recording their conversations for years so they can advertise straight to you.  You think Google doesn’t collect, use and sell your search history?  The advertising on the sidebar of Gmail literally changes within keystrokes depending on what you’re emailing someone about.  Those “recommended for you” items that appear on your Facebook wall aren’t coincidental either – funnily enough, they’re linked into your social media accounts.  If you change your status to “just got back from walking the dog! LOL!!!!111” you will most likely see ads trying to sell you shit for your dog, ads trying to sell you shit for walking, and a massive crowbar across the face from me.  People really don’t give a fuck about you shuffling around the block for 10 minutes while texting your friend and carrying a bag full of dog poo at the same time.  And if they do, then they are probably already being advertised to about that.  "HALF PRICE DOG POO FOR NEXT 48 HOURS!" 

When you record an episode of I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, the information it gathers might be that you’re a fan of reality shows, celebrity shows and are slightly retarded, and recommend whichever version of the Kardashians is on.  The Smart TV is the next inevitable step – it’s just being more obvious about it.  While it will analyse your viewing habits, it will also pick up on some topics of conversation, so when you’re on the couch discussing your upcoming holiday, which sports team you like, the fact that you’re out of milk or how you need a new crowbar, your telly is paying just enough attention to pick out the important words so the next time you use social media, you’ll have ads and recommendations for flight details, the official Twitter feed of @sports_team_official, some bonus Fly Buy points for buying Coles brand moo juice and a link to my blog. 

Just click the link, I need thehits.

If you’re seriously worried about all of your private information being collected, I’m afraid you’re probably too late.  But just for your own safety, you should burn your computer and phone; deactivate your Facebook, Twitter and Instagram; lose your throne as king of Four Square; let go of your Flappy Bird record; sell your Farmville farm; and for fuck’s sake, stop talking to your television, you creepy, lazy fuck.  Use your remote like the athletes among us.

Being at the end of the line

I think a good super power would be that when you join a queue and no one lines up behind you, you don't get nervous and feel like you're doing something wrong.

How did it get so far under there?

I think a good super power would be that when you throw your keys or wallet onto the bed, they don't bounce off and go underneath it.

Worst Job in the World

If I was a policeman, there's no way I'd ever move to China.  I'd ask someone, "Can you describe the man who robbed you?" and they'd say, "He's about my height, slim build, black hair, dark eyes and oriental features."  I'd just arrest everyone and hit the donut spring roll shop.

Haters gonna hate shake n bake...

The Triple J Hottest 100 controversially left out the Taylor Swift hit pop song "Shake It Off" from their countdown, despite Tay-Tay fans flooding the polls with thousands of votes.

Some have called it "an abuse of a democratic exercise."  Others have taken to Twitter to describe it as "totes unfair like t swizzle deserves to be no 1 who'se jet fakir anyway? #dumbass #haterz", with a host of people declaring their stance by posting "this is why I don't listen to JJJ in the first place."

For those who are pissed off by Triple J's stance not to play Taylor Swift in the first place, and then not include her votes in the second (by way of being ineligible for the first reason), it has become quite apparent that you've missed the whole point of her song.  T-Swiz would be disappointed.  And you know that means that she's writing a shithouse new song about you for her next album... which also won't be played on Triple J.

Shave your moth.

My friends don't do this. My friends suck.

Whenever I'm at a concert, there are always people in the crowd who are intent on filming the band on their mobile phone or tablet, probably so they can really impress their friends later on by showing them a video recording of a wall of sound and feedback.

Cricket Tri-Series 2015 - Australia vs India.... vs England

We’ve had our fun with Test cricket and possibly even more fun with the Big Bash League (especially with the stump microphones turned up to eleven), and now it’s time to reign in the good times with the beginning of the Tri-Nation One-Day International Series as a quick warm-up for the ODI World Cup starting on 14 February, which makes an ideal date night for Valentine’s Day, as nothing says, “I love you, schmoopie” like watching a cricket match and swearing at every ball bowled between the overs of 15 and 40 (that’s 150 balls, for those playing at home), but refusing to not watch the game in case “something happens.” 

The One-Dayer doesn’t pull the crowds like it used to, but that’s not going to stop Cricket Australia from giving their fielding-restricted, batsman-friendly, security-conscious, calculated-innings and predictable-run-chase form of the game another outing.  This year, we have invited England to watch two proper teams playing to win the claim as the Number One ODI team in the world, which will be nice for everyone, although in typical Pom behaviour, they have complained about touring Australia as they have to stay in hotels, whereas the last time they toured in South Africa, each member of the English team was able to stay with their parents.

The Tri-Series will be a great litmus test for the World Cup, as we will see just how out-of-form Shane Watson is, how England’s plan to only bring one bowler on tour will go, and just how much of a motherfucking deity Virat Kohli is.  Australia’s team (without perennially injured captain Michael Clarke) have made a combined 19 ODI centuries, England a modest (and possibly over-achieving) 15, whereas Virat Kohli has put together 21 ODI hundreds by himself. However, it will be interesting to follow the rest of the Indian team’s progress through the tournament, as they will be in the unfamiliar position of not playing for a draw.   

It will also be of particular interest to note the quality of the Australian and Indian fielding, which was, fair to say, fucking shithouse during the recent Tests, with neither side looking like they’d be able to catch an STD in a Bangkok brothel during the whole series.  I’m sure the English team are licking their lips in anticipation of being able to say, “At least I can catch better than you!” as they are taunted by Ishant Sharma, after he has knocked over their top four batsman with innocuous, straight, medium-paced deliveries that do not deviate off the pitch nor in the air.  And Ishant will be licking HIS lips in anticipation of being the player who doesn’t look the most like a lesbian when Joe Root makes his way onto the ground. 

Australian Xavier Doherty has been given another opportunity to add to his impressive international experience for the tri-series and World Cup events, as he strives to perfect 12^th man duties including mixing the cordial, delivering fresh gloves to the batsmen and buffing Shane Watson’s front pad to ensure it absorbs all impact of the ball as he plants it in front of middle stump. 

And so we tune into Channel 9 and look forward to an extravaganza of day-night commentary prowess, with Ian Chappell complaining about the size of the bats that modern-day players use, how much protective gear they wear, and the time that he had to wear his brother’s trousers in a warm-up match in 1968 because the button had fallen off.  Slats and Warney will talk about the 90s era of cricket while Mark Tubby Taylor highlights the oft-overlooked aspects of the great game such as “Australia would like a wicket right now” and “the last thing India want to do is lost a wicket right now” and James Brayshaw tries his hardest to be acknowledged as an ex-cricketer.  Mark Nicholas will hold the KFC commentary team together by ensuring they all mention the sponsors as often as is Bunningsly possible during the Toyota change-of-innings and the ever-popular Taubman’s Cricket Trivia segment, courtesy of Optus and Harvey Norman’s half-yearly January sale. 

The sun is out, the umpires are in position and George Bailey is ready to toss.  

Oh god yes

Love Poem for the ages

Roses are red

This poem is bad

What rhymes with red?

What rhymes with bad?

Longer lasting performance

"Hey Phil, could you come over here for a second?"

"I'm coming!"

Phil's premature ejaculation was getting to be a real problem.

Every fucking Monday

I hate it when you're brushing your teeth and somehow you dribble toothpaste and it smears on your shirt, so you wipe it off and everything looks clean again, but then an hour later it looks like you've got a big jizz stain on your shirt.

NRL 2014: The Grand Final

And so it has come to this – sixteen teams entered, one shall leave.  Rabbit v Dog.  In a game where the supporters could provide A Current Affair with stories for a year about welfare cheats and shonky Lebanese builders, the NRL decide that this will be the year that they raise Grand Final ticket prices.  Nicely done, NRL, you cheeky bastards.  I’d buy you a beer for that prank, if they also didn’t cost $12. 

In a real-life situation, you’d probably pick a bulldog to tear apart a rabbit, roll around in its entrails, give it a quick dry-hump (for good measure) and then sleep it off somewhere shady.  Alas, this isn’t a real-life situation, and everyone is still wondering how the fuck the Bulldogs got this far.  They’d lost four out of their last six games, including a spanking from 14^th place Titans in the final round of the regular season.  Their five-eighth is borderline retarded, their halfback’s eyes are so close together that there are doubts that there are, in fact, two of them, and they used a 110kg prop as a playmaker for half the season.  Plus, their coach is Des Hasler, who has been stuck in 1982 for the last 30 years.

As a result of the Dogs being so fucking terrible (yet making it this far), the Rabbitohs are about a trillion-to-one favourites to take this game out.  However, 2014 has been the season of upsets (also, the Season of Grubs, the Season of What the Fuck, Raiders? and the Season of Seriously, Sonny Bill Really Isn’t That Good; I Think He’s Playing Well Within Himself So He Stays Fit For His Change To Rugby Union [Again] Before He Comes Back To The NRL And Expects To Just Walk Into Any Fucking Team He Wants For Billions Of Dollars While Phil Gould Fellates Him Three Times A Day.  Trust me, it was a very graphic season) and the Dogs have been kind of dismissed by everyone for this game.  According to pretty much every media article I’ve read this week, the Grand Final is being played by Sam Burgess and Greg Inglis.  If anyone else turns up, it’ll just be a bonus.

Souths should be a bit wary – there’s still a game to be played here, and fuck me if the Bulldogs won’t be digging deep to give 110% so that the boys can receive full credit by sticking to their game plan, and get some go-forward happening, and the backs can build on that.  It’s still a game of two halves, and they need to stick with it for the full 80.  I’d like to thank Channel 9 and KFC.  Shout out to my nan.

South Sydney Rabbitohs vs Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs

Look, I’m thinking Souths will win this by about thirty or forty points.  Seriously.  The closest thing they will find to an opposition this weekend will probably be themselves – Sam Burgess is heading back to Pommieland to play union for some fucking stupid reason, and his three giant brothers will be determined to send him out on a winning note.  The problem there is that they all get a bit “dropsy” and “spastic” when they get “determined.” 

This SHOULD be a piss-easy game to pick.  Souths have the better forward pack as well as the better outside backs.  Both teams will lose a whole shit-tin in attack, defence and grubbiness with the loss of both first-choice hookers – Issac Luke through suspension (and how the fuck do you misspell Isaac like that, Issac?), and Michael Ennis through injury (who still has the potential to play, despite reports of having two breaks in his foot). 

If Ennis doesn’t play, it may be the first time ever that there are no hookers at an NRL event.  Eh?  Eh?  See what I did there?  Sex joke.  Always end the season on a winning note, that’s what I always say*.

*I have never said that before.

Hashtag Canberra Appreciation Month Hashtag Over

Well we’ve had a few days of Canberra sun

The capital declares “Summer’s Begun!”

We fuck off our jumpers and jackets for the year

It’s t-shirts and shorts to meet outside for a beer.

The temperature soars to more than thirteen

And there’s no ice every morning on your car’s windscreen

That you have to scrape off with an old membership card

That I paid $8 for at the Irish Club to sign up for three months - yes I am a retard.

For a whole week the city turns paradise tropical

And Canberra smells like coconut oil

The heaters go off and we dust off our fans

It’s a summertime feel from Dunlop to Banks.

But just as we think we’ve escaped Canberra’s cold

Something occurs to bring us back to the fold

The clouds roll back in and the wind picks back up

And everyone starts thinking, “Now, what the fuck?”

It’s cold again; it’s a Canberra thing

The air con goes out and the heater’s back in

It’s not because of ozone, pollution or driving my car

The weather turns shit for the start of Floriade.

Tulips and ferris wheels bring forth climate change

And Canberra’s spring event is pissed on by rain

Just when you thought, “Yeah, let’s look at flowers!”

You change your mind quickly because of spring showers.

By the end of September, we wait for WIN news

To tell us the stats that we already knew:

"Visitors down, designs rated highly"

Mainly because people voted from O’Reilley’s.

It’s not that Canberrans don’t like a tulip or two

But an annual flower show – is that the best we can do?

If we could focus a bit more on the other shit there

And less on the petals, we might start to care.

There’s music and markets and food and there’s beer

Surely that’s something to promote every year?

I’d brave cold algae winds blowing in off the lake

If it meant I could drink and stick food in face.

Lucky for us there’s another Canberra treat

Luckier still, it’s at the height of our heat

Where we can see mullets and flannies and show off our class

January’s coming, which means Summernats!

NRL 2014 - Semi Final: The AFL Grand Final

My NRL finals tipping hasn’t gone as well as it possibly could have, to the point where I think I’ve only picked one correct game in about a month.  I guess it just goes to show how ordinary the teams really are.

So consider that my NRL tips are all kinds of fucked, let’s give this AFL game a crack.  There’s only one game left – two teams to choose from – can’t be that fucking hard, can it?

AFL GRAND FINAL

Swans vs Hawks

I’ve done a whole shit-tin of research on this game, comparing and contrasting these two teams since their inception into the league in 1734, counted all of their marks, possessions, disposals, inside-50s, goals, penalties and most importantly, I’ve studied their behinds (hehehehe).  The conclusion is that they are decidedly even, with each team kicking a few, missing a bit, catching a couple, not catching it when they probably should have, everyone yelling “BALL!”, some players being allowed to hold other players behind the play a lot more than others, pushing in the back is sometimes legal, sleeves are optional, tatts are not, the video ref is rubbish and there’s a position called back pocket.  That’s where I keep my wallet (and my parking ticket when I go to the multi-storey car park).

I also learned that one of the main players in this game will be superstar Lance “Buddy” Franklin, who left the Hawks last year (maybe the year before), to have wild passionate sex on a $50-note-filled-mattress with supermodel Jacinta Campbell while Leonardo diCaprio draws them “like one of his French girls.”  Fuck it, I’d probably do the same thing.  So if there are any AFL teams out there looking for a skinny 34-year old bloke who hasn’t ever played the game before, I am willing to accept money and supermodels to join your club.  I probably can't kick straight either.   

My super journalistic skills (watching the Today show) have also discerned that the Hawks seem to be banking all of their hope on a bloke called Cyril Rioli rising from his deathbed to play in the game.  At time of last checking (“I wake up with Today!”), Cyril still hadn’t passed or failed his fitness test… so yeah, I don’t really know what else to do with that.  If he doesn’t play, will Hawthorn just forfeit?  Surely they have other players who could strap on some boots, pull their socks up, throw some grass in the air and nail a behind (hehehehe). 

It’s not my fault - the two main players in this game are called Lance and Cyril!  At least tell me that there’s a Tobias and a Sebastian playing as well? 

NRL SEMI FINAL

I couldn’t resist coming back to this one – sorry AFL fans.  What a classic couple of games last week, with 1 point bundling Manly out of the comp (woohoo) to let the Doggies go through (hrrrrm), and the Roosters giving up a 30-point lead to somehow get over the Cowboys (bit of cheating going on, and some Sonny Bill “allowances” from the referees, perhaps) by a field goal as well.  From here on in, a one-point win (the single digit) is now known as the Hopoate.  Kids, ask your parents. 

I think the Roosters looked fucked under pressure last week, and any team that lets a 30-point lead go at any stage of the season should be sent to play French rugby for a while.  I mean, fuck, even the Raiders weren’t that bad.  Sure, they never scored 30 points all year, but still.  My money is on the Rabbits to take the Chooks down – the Roosters have shown on a few occasions this year that they are not an 80-minute team, and will leak like Todd Carney once the game’s momentum has swung.  If the Bunnies can defend for 30 minutes of the first half, the game will be theirs.

And the Doggies taking on the Panthers – fuck me, there’s two teams who I don’t think too many people would have picked to be here at this stage of the season – regardless of who wins (and I hope it’s not Canterbury), I just don’t see either of them with the finesse and class to beat either Souths or the Roosters in next week’s granny.  But we have seen time and time again that teams coming from bum-fuck nowhere to play in the GF have shown guts and determination, and have been under-estimated to upset a more highly-regarded team.  Like the Mighty Ducks, or every single American Football movie ever made.

But that won’t happen this year.  Souths to conquer all, mofos.

Roosters vs Bunnies

Doggies vs Panthers 

Canberra Appreciation Month: No Vacancy

Today’s waltz through the utopia of Canberra actually crosses the border of the ACT and enters Queanbeyan, a feat not achieved by typical Canberrans for several millennia, especially those who live northside.  Excepting, of course, the twice-a-year pilgrimage to the coast.

Queanbeyan is a strange little place – I would describe it to non-Canberrans akin to how Australians view New Zealand; we’re allowed to make fun of the place, but if anyone else does, we’ll beat them to death with thongs, because we secretly love the kiwis… but then I realised that no one in Canberra actually has that affiliation to Quangers, which made me a bit sad.  Until I drive through Q-Town (on my way to the coast), and realise that it is actually just a little bit shit.  So now I don't know how to explain the relationship between Canberra and Queanbeyan other than "Canberrans use Quangers to make themselves feel better about being in Canberra, and Quangers people use Canberra to feel better about being in Quangers" but in total opposite ways.  Canberrans will use the rough-parts of Q-Town (all of it) to say, "Well, at least we don't live there tish pish posh" and Q-bergs will look at the Berra and say, "Well, at least the cardboard box I live in is only twenty minutes down the road from that glory box of a city."  

Trust me, that's how it works.    

The fact that Queanbeyan is a little bit shit makes me wonder… why are there so many fucking hotels and motels in Queanbeyan?  Next time you drive through (on your way to the coast), have a squiz at the buildings – 98% (maths was never my strong point) are either hotels, motels or caravan parks.  Why so many?  Is it for the weary traveller who simply can’t go “another twenty minutes to Canberra for accommodation”?  Is it for the world’s worst travellers (Canberrans) who need to “stop for a bit to avoid driver fatigue” twenty minutes into their trip?  Is it because Queanbeyan has something else going for it that I don’t know about that people need to stay there to witness?  Is it a Queanbeyan joke that they keep these hotels open just to fuck with my head? 

Surely there is no need to have streets upon streets filled with hotels in a town like Queanbeyan; those interested in spending a weekend visiting the printing museum couldn’t possibly fill out all of those rooms?  How do they all stay in business?  How come so many have “No Vacancy” signs out?  WHAT IS YOUR SECRET, QUEANBEYAN?!

NRL 2014 – Finals week 2: A rock and a hard place

This week, the NRL celebrated seven days without any players being arrested, charged, convicted or accused of any illegal activities.  Well done, lads.  You have all dug deep, given 110%, stuck to your game plan, and luckily enough it came off.  Full credit to the police and the general public, but at the end of the day there’s a winner and a loser.  Everyone is looking to the future, but taking it one week at a time.

I don’t know if this sudden turnaround of lack of drink driving allegations, assault and battery charges, possession of drugs and public nudity violations has anything to do with Todd Carney shipping of to France for three years to play rugby with the Catalans team.  Best of luck to the little fuckwit; here’s hoping he enjoys it so much that he stays there.  I am sure that he will fall in love with the culture, history, art and €3 bottles of wine made with 82% ethanol. 

The most controversial thing that happened in league circles that I’m aware of this week was the North Queensland coach, Paul Green, criticising the judiciary for suspending Thor look-alike Tariq Sims for a couple of weeks following a late, high, off-the-ball shoulder charge that left Justin Hodges heavily concussed.  It’s just unbelievable how inconsistent the NRL tribunal is when your player can’t wait until a new financial year before landing a cheap shot to the head of your opponent and not get suspended.  IT’S ANOTHER NRL CONSPIRACY! say the North Queenslanders, which is a feat in itself for them, as “conspiracy” is quite a hard word to say when you don’t have any teeth.

The NRL also announced that soft-cock-rock band Train will be performing at the Grand Final this year.  Another great move, guys - the 14-year old girl and 43-year old housewife demographics have been officially catered for.  To please everyone, they have also organised Slash (of Guns n Roses fame) to knock out some tunes as well.  I'm assuming that a time-machine that takes the stadium back to 1990 will also be involved.

FINALS WEEK 2

Well last week turned up some clusterfuck performances, amirite?  And by that, I mean the Melbourne Storm.  Good season though, lads.  Make sure the same team turns up next year so you can continue to slide down the ladder.  It’s important not to change anything from the team that won the comp in 2008. 

Roosters vs Cowboys

Manly vs Bulldogs

Despite losing last week to the Panthers (who no one still seems to be taking seriously), the Roosters are still getting the NRL pantheon a bit moist downstairs, as Rabs and Fatty and all those fucking dickwits just keep frothing at the mouth about Sonny fucking Bill Williams, James fucking Maloney, Mitchell fucking Pearce and all of the other fucking fuckwits that didn’t win last week.  Here’s a thought, fellas – maybe you should flick to other sections of your copy of NRL Weekly apart from the centrefold. 

I’m tipping the Cows to beat the Roosters, just because.  I like nothing more than seeing those princesses get beaten by a team that they think they should win against just by turning up.  Maloney’s form this year has been potato as well, so if the North Queenslanders can work out some kind of plan to run at him all night, they should come way with the points.

Manly and the Bulldogs… wow.  This is a hard one to pick, because they’re both a bit rubbish at the moment, and I hate them kind of equally – including the coaches.  On paper, you’d expect a Manly trouncing (and that’s what everyone’s kind of hoping for/expecting), so I’m going with the crowd.  As long as Steve Matai gets suspended or injured (likelihood:  100%) and Brett Stewart makes that face where he thinks he’s just shit himself but is a bit afraid to check (100%) and Geoff Toovey has a massive cry (110%; dig deep, Tooves), I’ll be happy.  I’d also love to see another Bulldogs meltdown led by Josh Reynolds, and maybe some kind of Tony Williams mind-snap where he just starts eating people. 

I fucking love this game.

"I live in Narrabundah... the good part."

When two Canberrans meet for the first time, they perform a ritual to ascertain just how Canberran the other person is, and whether they are worthy of joining your circle of Canberran friends that you never see. 

The ritual begins by asking “where do you live?”  The response comes back with the appropriate answer, “Kambah,” “Phillip,” “Hawker,” “Gungahlin,” or whichever fucking suburb you live in, and then pause.  The other Canberran will raise their eyebrows in expectation of your next sentence, which will be… “the good part.”  Then you can both relax in your Canberranness, clink your beers together (if you’re having beers, otherwise it might be awkward if you’re at work or at the gym or an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting) and laugh together at being in “the good part” of your chosen suburb. 

You see, Canberra suburbs were designed to incorporate a mix of government housing for the lower-income earners of the world, with a smattering of privately-owned houses.  I think it was some kind of ACT Government initiative to stop poor people from robbing each other, and target the middle class instead.

This is true basically throughout Canberra, with the exception of the suburb of O’Malley. 

The suburb of O’Malley was named after King O’Malley, who was named after the pub in Civic, where I’m assuming he was conceived in the disabled toilets after about twelve pints on a rowdy Friday night.  It has taken this humble beginning to become possibly the weirdest postcode in the Gregory’s street directory.  Sprawling with mansions and adorned by marble, O’Malley gives the impression of what life would be like if God played the Sims and used all of the money cheats. 

O’Malley’s crowning glory, other than it’s endless rabbit warren of streets that lead to bigger and whiter houses, is the view.  If looking over Canberra is your idea of heaven, and let’s be honest, it is, then O’Malley may just be one or two lotto wins away for you.  And you’d better enjoy the view, because there’s fuck all chance of you getting out of the suburb during peak hour, as it exits directly onto one of Canberra’s busiest roads.  A favourite Canberra game is to watch nervous Range Rover and Lexus drivers edge their way onto Hindmarsh Drive as Corollas and Mazda 2s do their best to hit warp speed so they can beat the twelve sets of traffic lights.  In the end, no one wins, but there’s always a good chance you’ll see a P-plater in a Mercedes sideswipe a bus, so that may count for something.  

Needs more pillars

NRL 2014 – Finals series week 1: Fuck off, Brisbane

Ah… welcome to the first round of NRL finals.  What a glorious time in the NRL calendar, especially for Raiders fans since 1994, as it means that we don’t have long to wait until cricket season and there’s a reason to be excited about sport again. 

The last week of the regular season certainly did fuck around with some teams, especially ALL OF THE ONES I TIPPED, as I crashed out to score a grand total of 1 correct game for the round.  I would love to accept the responsibility for such a terrible tipping performance, but really, I have to point a big, fat finger at all of the other teams who lost.  Fucking useless bunch of excuses for football teams.  Go play netball, all of you.  Except Josh Dugan, who put in a great effort in the last round of the season to go out of his way to ignore the “no punching” rule and went to town on some poor dickhead from Newcastle.  With no real consequences (other than sitting out the first few rounds next year, although I have no doubt that Duges would have a “niggling injury” that he picked up in the off-season (gonorrhoea) “trial matches” (team trip to Thailand) that he would be “rested” until round 4 anyway.  So good for him.  Watching him punch on with no regard for the rules was akin to watching a high school kid receive his graduation certificate, punch the teacher who gave it to him and then say, “I cheated on all of my exams,” before doffing his cap and hitting the cask wine under an underpass with his mates.  Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s how Duges did celebrate his graduation from primary school. 

The NRL even managed to get through a Mad Monday with only one story about the Cronulla Sharks getting any media attention, but since the media have been camping out at the Sharkies HQ since March, that’s really no surprise.  So well done everyone on not being arrested for one week in a row. 

Finals Round 1

Manly Sea Eagles v South Sydney Rabbitohs

Sydney Roosters v Penrith Panthers

Nth Queensland Cowboys v Brisbane Broncos

Melbourne Storm v Canterbury Bulldogs

Manly are playing like absolute balls lately, and even though Souths were well off the boil last week, should be able to get out to an eighteen-point lead before giving up thirty in the second half.  Basically because I’d really like to see Brett Stewart cry on the field at full-time. 

I hate to admit it, but the Roosters are looking pretty good at the moment.  Playing well too.  It’s nice of Mitchell fucking Pearce to start playing well; pity he couldn’t have produced this kind of form when he should have, you know, like when he was picked for representative duties.  What a dick.  Honestly.  If he can keep it up (that’s what she said), and Maloney, Reynolds and that other bloke continue to be rubbish, he should walk into NSW camp next year.  And get selected to play Origin as well.  FUCK I AM ON FIRE.  I still think he’s a twat though, and I don’t use the word ‘twat’ freely.

Brisbane don’t deserve to be in the finals and should save themselves the embarrassment of losing really super horrifically badly and just forfeit.  Then Thaiday should retire and join the Footy Show as “that big guy who says funny things but is also remarkably knowledgeable and articulate.”  He could take over Beau Ryan’s role, as “that kind of funny guy whose talent is being spread a bit too thin over way too many things including WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS.” 

And the Storm should be played back into form by the Bulldogs, who have been very entertaining to watch this year, in a Billy Madison kind of way.  If I was Des Hasler, I’d get a haircut, then sack that Reynolds bloke for being the world’s biggest fuckwit.  The Dogs already have a shit reputation for being grubs, cheats, losers, rapists, gangbangers and druggies that they really don’t need this fucking spastic to really ingrain that stereotype.  

I'm not sure who's more embarrassed about sleeping with who in this picture

Canberra Appreciation Month - September edition

Fuck me in the ear with a Telstra Tower snowglobe, Canberra Appreciation Month finished and I kind of missed the Lake Burley Griffin Party Boat on the whole thing.  I guess that makes sense, seeing as I started it three weeks late and didn’t do anything else.  It wasn’t an oversight though, it’s just a Canberran state of mind – I acknowledged the fact that it was Canberra Appreciation Month, I simply didn’t do anything about it.  Kind of like the Centenary of Canberra celebrations last year – everyone totally knew that there were concerts and exhibitions and attractions and shit going on, but everyone preferred not to attend anything, but loudly complain to everyone that “nothing ever happens in Canberra” when it had finished. 

And it’s not like I don’t have anything interesting to talk about in Canberra - quite the opposite, in fact.  I’m torn for choice about which segment of capital glory to share with everyone over the extended Mister Evil Breakfast Canberra Appreciation Month during September.  You know, because my faithful readers (both of you) fucking love this shit.

Today, we turn our attention to these two lesbians, who grace Canberrans’ earlobes every weekday morning on (apparently) our most popular (only) local FM radio station, FM104.7.

These two women are otherwise known as Scotty and Nige, and when they’re not being Canberra’s only non-sporting celebrities to serve out Big Macs on McHappy Day, they are badly rehashing jokes they read on the internet three weeks ago to entertain the bogan masses on their commute to work with their morning radio show.  I don’t know which one is Scotty and which one is Nige, and I also cannot confirm that they were both born male, although I have it on good authority that the fat one captained a women’s D-grade indoor cricket team a few years ago.

In between playing Harvey Norman ads and that “Happy” song, Scotty and Nige will awkwardly interrupt each other as they stumble over the explanation of the latest “I can has cheezburger” meme that someone emailed them, before giving an on-air plug for ReACT Roofing, throwing to the news and then a commercial for half-price Adam & Eve dildos followed by eight minutes of station promos reminding the listeners that there’s a 40-minute commercial free period coming up after midday.  Then they laugh at their own jokes for a while, play “Happy” again and fuck off to the pub for the day.

What a couple of geniuses.  Fuck em.

NRL 2014 Round 26: Fuck these Thursday Night Games

Seriously, fuck these Thursday night games.  They fuck up my week (kind of), and I never have the fucking time to get my stupid fucking blog done about it.  Also, work has been busy and I haven’t had time to fuck about.

Stupid fucking Thursday night games.  GO FUCK YOURSELF, THURSDAY NIGHT GAMES, YOU FUCKING FUCKS.  Nice crowds, by the way, dipshits.  You couldn’t pull a crowd with an electric hand-job machine. 

Round 26:

Sydney Roosters vs South Sydney Rabbitohs

Melbourne Storm vs Brisbane Broncos

Wests Tigers vs Cronulla Sharks

Nth Queensland Cowboys vs Manly Sea Eagles

Newcastle Knights vs St George Illawarra Dragons

Gold Coast Titans vs Canterbury Bulldogs

Penrith Panthers vs New Zealand Warriors

It’s a tipper’s nightmare this weekend, as we head into the final regular round where teams who have no chance of making the finals are playing other teams with no chance of making the finals, and other games where one team might be able to make the finals if they win against a team who can’t as long as every other game goes their way.  How the hell do you try and get a team to play off for the honour of coming either fifteenth or twelfth?  They should all just go to the pub and play drinking games instead.  For most of the games this weekend, it would probably be more entertaining to watch.

My recommendations for this weekend is for Souths to destroy the Roosters, simply because I hate the Roosters – is it just me, or are they becoming the new Manly? – and for Melbourne to get a very unconvincing win against Brisbane.  The Dogs should have no problem in rolling the Titans (although the grub contest between Ennis and Bird will be interesting) and I’m opting for the Warriors (who I have a strange and awesome boner for at the moment) to take advantage of a clearly demoralized Penrith team.  Poor Pennies last week, had the wood over Manly for 79 minutes, but somehow managed to lose.  Good one, Penrith, you had ONE JOB TO DO.  Although maybe I'm being too hard on them - being from Penrith, they aren't used to having a job.

The other game to watch will be Cronulla vs the Tigers; both have been bested by the high-flying Raiders over the last fortnight, and both will be looking to end their season on a high – although the Sharks should probably be doing less things that end on a high, if you know what I mean PAUL GALLEN.  I’m tipping Cronulla, simply because they came within a bee’s dick of beating the Cowboys on Monday night.  It was definitely not a game that made you think “if Cronulla lose this by less than 4, it would be a bookie’s wet dream.  I sure hope none of the players are tanking this match because of any illegal bets being made.” 

The number of players left for Cronulla following injuries, discipline and drug cheating suspensions

Game of the Round

Canberra Raiders vs Parramatta Eels

The might of Canberra has done enough to avoid the wooden spoon, and with a win could even end up third last, which would be embarrassing for the Titans – imagine being as bad as Canberra!  However, with a finals berth on the horizon (very distant horizon) for the Parramatta Eels, the blue and golds should have the motivation (not to mention skills, ability, fitness, power and Jarrod Hayne) to get the bickies in this one.  Probably pretty comfortably, too.  The only person who would still really give a shit would be Jarrod Croker, who is somehow sitting pretty near the top of the try and point-scoring ladders in the NRL.  Yes, sportsfans, apparently the Raiders scored tries this year.  

Congrats to Ricky Stuart for breaking a five-year drought of not being able to win twice in a row, congrats to the Raiders for winning at all, congrats to Tom Leahroyd-Lars, who, despite not playing this year at all remained Canberra’s third-highest paid player and then signing with Melbourne for next year, congrats to Reece Robinson who is leaving to learn how to catch, congrats to Anthony Milford for giving us hope and taking it away, congrats to Sam Williams for signing back with the Raiders after a one-year stint elsewhere (great, another promising halfback to ruin next year) and congrats to all of the team for not being as shit as the Sharks.