The Nanna's and the Poppa's
This weekend just past, there were quite a few things on the table. I could have played drunken golf with my 2 LAN Mine bosses. There was a HUGE grand final piss-up at Berrigan that I was invited to, and some other of my friends were hitting the town with a vengeance as well.
But I had loftier plans... I was visting grandparents.
It was actually pretty fun. I can drink any old weekend, I guess, and it was for the best that I took a weekend off. Burning the candle at both ends lately, it seems. Although, the night before I did go to a yr12 breakup party that was on. Put a large dent in a bottle of jagermeister and had a blast with James and a few of his mates.
My two younger sisters (Karlie and Lainie) and I all piled into Karlies little white ford festiva and we hit the tarmac at about 3pm. There truly is nothing spectacular about this trip, unfortunately. Shenanigans were limited to me throwing M&M's at Karlie and annoying Lainie about her new boyfriend. All in all, you take about 2 turns and just follow the road for 6 hours and you're in Ararat.
Last time we went up, I actually missed one of the 2 damn turns that we needed to take. Theres only 2 for chrissake! A piece of toilet paper had flicked out from under the wheel of a car in front of me, and lodged under the passenger side windscreen wiper. I was so amazed that this little piece of paper had stuck, at that speed, and happenned to miss the turn.
Karlie got the shits.
Lainie got the shits.
I tried to placate them with promises of "Swims!, beaches, and drives along the Great Ocean Road!" which were met with a hostile "Just get us the fuck to Ballarat!" and a hail of lollies.
We arrived at Nanna & Poppa's in Ararat at about 8pm and spent the night eating cold leftovers and throwing around hugs to the family. None of us kids had seen Nanna & Poppa in ages, so it was good to see them looking hale and hearty. The rest of the weekend was spent leafing through Nanna's abundance of 'New Idea' and 'Womens Weekly' magazines. Not that I really give two shits, but Brad and Angelina's relationship looks like it might be on the rocks.
I'm shocked too.
We cut back through a little town called Skipton on the way home on Sunday to visit my other grandparents, Grammy and Pa. Grammy put on one of her trademark awesome roasts (Grandparents just dont fuck roasts up. They have a good 40 years of solid roasting experience behind them!) and caught up with our uncle as well.
After lunch, it was time to goad the festiva into life and make the long journey home. I'm proud to say I drove us through both Ballarat and Melbourne. Two of the shittiest places I have ever driven, where every driver has an attitude and their own speed limit. And Ballarat's just plain confusing! Conflicting signs! 80kph signs... then 100kph signs... flollowed in fifty metres by a 60kph sign. And plus, Ballarat is generally a shitty place. If we voted for Australia's biggest Crud Bucket, it would poll extremely well.
No great hassles on the way home. We pulled into a servo for some M&M's and I sat watching some helpful bastard of a man, helping three blonde chicks fill up their radiator. I maintained that they were '3 Swedish exchange students, on a road trip down the highways to explore their sexuality', but neither of my sisters agreed.
All in all, a good trip. Got home safe and no major fights with the sisters!
I need some sleep!
-j
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
One Last Snowboarding Hurrah!
After our sojourn to falls creek last week, there was still a veritable buttload of snow lying around, and despite it being so close to spring, more was on the way. I organised Benny, Max, and Fanky and we decided to hit Falls Creek up for one last day of awkward looking snowboarding and 15ft faceplants (this is my speciality).
The day was freaking awesome. Max is especially good at ice skating, and ran rings around me last week when we had a go at that. So I took great pleasure in boarding around him as he constantly fell on his big ass on the snowboard. To his credit though, it was his first time and he ended up doing a shitload better than I did my first time up. Just get a lesson into the boy and he was away!
There was one incident where I followed Fanky into a series of jumps... he jumped... and dissapeared somewhere into the gap between the jumps where I couldnt see him. This cued a very inelegant manouver from me, which I like to call the 'Spastic Slowdown' before I hit the top of the jump. I dont think his girlfriend would appreciate me doing a '360 Fanky Headgrind with added Spinecrush'.
Personally, I avoided any really good crashes until the very last run. So in my usual stupid style I went down a slope a little bit too fast, turned a little too sharp down the bottom, the front of the board caught in the snow and I ate some serious shit. Snow all wedged up under my sunglasses, snow all wedged up into my pants. It truly was heaven.
Towards the end of the day, all the snow at the bottom of the mountain had turned to slushy mud, which was quite a treat as you rounded the last corner and had to pick the 2cm or so of snow that would bridge the slush. Stopping in that stuff would be worse than death... probably full of the bodies and fluids of lesser snowboarders who had slipped, flailed and sunk into the stinky black mess.
As usual, everything but your wang hurt the next day, and thats only because the cold made it shrink to somewhere in the middle of your chest. Legs, ankles... muscles that have no name, they all ached like a bastard, but it was still well worth it.
-j
After our sojourn to falls creek last week, there was still a veritable buttload of snow lying around, and despite it being so close to spring, more was on the way. I organised Benny, Max, and Fanky and we decided to hit Falls Creek up for one last day of awkward looking snowboarding and 15ft faceplants (this is my speciality).
The day was freaking awesome. Max is especially good at ice skating, and ran rings around me last week when we had a go at that. So I took great pleasure in boarding around him as he constantly fell on his big ass on the snowboard. To his credit though, it was his first time and he ended up doing a shitload better than I did my first time up. Just get a lesson into the boy and he was away!
There was one incident where I followed Fanky into a series of jumps... he jumped... and dissapeared somewhere into the gap between the jumps where I couldnt see him. This cued a very inelegant manouver from me, which I like to call the 'Spastic Slowdown' before I hit the top of the jump. I dont think his girlfriend would appreciate me doing a '360 Fanky Headgrind with added Spinecrush'.
Personally, I avoided any really good crashes until the very last run. So in my usual stupid style I went down a slope a little bit too fast, turned a little too sharp down the bottom, the front of the board caught in the snow and I ate some serious shit. Snow all wedged up under my sunglasses, snow all wedged up into my pants. It truly was heaven.
Towards the end of the day, all the snow at the bottom of the mountain had turned to slushy mud, which was quite a treat as you rounded the last corner and had to pick the 2cm or so of snow that would bridge the slush. Stopping in that stuff would be worse than death... probably full of the bodies and fluids of lesser snowboarders who had slipped, flailed and sunk into the stinky black mess.
As usual, everything but your wang hurt the next day, and thats only because the cold made it shrink to somewhere in the middle of your chest. Legs, ankles... muscles that have no name, they all ached like a bastard, but it was still well worth it.
-j
Saturday, September 17, 2005
3 Litres of Beer, Jagermeister, and a Big Black Poo.Part 2
We got some food into us and jumped in Jez's big red 4wd for the windy trip up the mountain. Jen started looking a bit ill about halfway through the first turn, and was mighty green around the gills when we putted into the Falls Creek car-park about 30 minutes later. She held onto her tea like a little trooper though... for now anyway.
It was snowing lightly and fucking freezing up there. We took a 'shortcut' up a snow covered embankment to get on the snow covered road to the pub (Jen was in her Ug Boots. Quite amusing), and giggled as heaps of people slid down the pub's ice-covered steps while we waited for a friend of liz's to show up.
Finally we entered the sausage fest that was the Big Cup party. One hot snowboarding chick for every 4 guys. Jen and I celebrated a bit too soon as one of our jugs was filled, but the other one was denied by a catty bar manager. Obviously we're two system hatin' rebels playing by our own rules with 'plastic jugs'. Tools of the devil indeed. We settled for a mere 1 litre glass and got sufficiently pissed off that. The thing about Big Cup night is, it sounds good in theory. $7 for a huge amount of beer? sounds awesome! Unfortunately, the beer is Tooheys New. And $7, while it isnt a huge amount, is still too much to pay when it's for a piece of your own death. Secondly, you can only take so much beer before the thought of any more makes you vomit a little bit in your own mouth.
So, on my advice, we all hit the Jager Bombs. These things fuck you up, and give you energy! Its a perfect combination! I think Jen, Liz and I all had the same amount, and when you take into account the fact that Liz and Jen combined probably don't weigh as much as me, and I was pretty messy, they must have been rooted.
After we'd all had enough, it was time to stagger down the snow covered treacherous road back to the car. I mean, it sounds easy, but there were one or two spills along the way. I actually had a hold of the back of Jens jumper, holding her up as she two-stepped, slipped and weaved down the road. I may have pushed her on a bit quicker as Liz and 'The Dude Who We Were Drinking With Whose Name I Forget' were macking behind us.
The car trip home was relatively uneventful. All the drunk people annoying the hell out of the sober people as we sung along to 'Foo Fighters - learn to fly' and 'Green Day - Longview', before I fell asleep on Jens shoulder.
I woke up in the morning to an argument about "Whose spew is this?" because someone (most likely Jen) had ralfed right in between Liz and Jen in the bed they were sharing. Liz left to go instruct snowboarding and Jen and I bummed around the house until we felt human enough to take the drive home. We were about to leave when I walked past Jen with an amazed look on her face in the loungeroom. "I just did the biggest, blackest poo ever". It must have been pretty amazing, because most people I know arent that astounded by their bowel movements.
Well, almost a week after it ended, i finally covered big cup night. I have to actually do some real work now.
-j
We got some food into us and jumped in Jez's big red 4wd for the windy trip up the mountain. Jen started looking a bit ill about halfway through the first turn, and was mighty green around the gills when we putted into the Falls Creek car-park about 30 minutes later. She held onto her tea like a little trooper though... for now anyway.
It was snowing lightly and fucking freezing up there. We took a 'shortcut' up a snow covered embankment to get on the snow covered road to the pub (Jen was in her Ug Boots. Quite amusing), and giggled as heaps of people slid down the pub's ice-covered steps while we waited for a friend of liz's to show up.
Finally we entered the sausage fest that was the Big Cup party. One hot snowboarding chick for every 4 guys. Jen and I celebrated a bit too soon as one of our jugs was filled, but the other one was denied by a catty bar manager. Obviously we're two system hatin' rebels playing by our own rules with 'plastic jugs'. Tools of the devil indeed. We settled for a mere 1 litre glass and got sufficiently pissed off that. The thing about Big Cup night is, it sounds good in theory. $7 for a huge amount of beer? sounds awesome! Unfortunately, the beer is Tooheys New. And $7, while it isnt a huge amount, is still too much to pay when it's for a piece of your own death. Secondly, you can only take so much beer before the thought of any more makes you vomit a little bit in your own mouth.
So, on my advice, we all hit the Jager Bombs. These things fuck you up, and give you energy! Its a perfect combination! I think Jen, Liz and I all had the same amount, and when you take into account the fact that Liz and Jen combined probably don't weigh as much as me, and I was pretty messy, they must have been rooted.
After we'd all had enough, it was time to stagger down the snow covered treacherous road back to the car. I mean, it sounds easy, but there were one or two spills along the way. I actually had a hold of the back of Jens jumper, holding her up as she two-stepped, slipped and weaved down the road. I may have pushed her on a bit quicker as Liz and 'The Dude Who We Were Drinking With Whose Name I Forget' were macking behind us.
The car trip home was relatively uneventful. All the drunk people annoying the hell out of the sober people as we sung along to 'Foo Fighters - learn to fly' and 'Green Day - Longview', before I fell asleep on Jens shoulder.
I woke up in the morning to an argument about "Whose spew is this?" because someone (most likely Jen) had ralfed right in between Liz and Jen in the bed they were sharing. Liz left to go instruct snowboarding and Jen and I bummed around the house until we felt human enough to take the drive home. We were about to leave when I walked past Jen with an amazed look on her face in the loungeroom. "I just did the biggest, blackest poo ever". It must have been pretty amazing, because most people I know arent that astounded by their bowel movements.
Well, almost a week after it ended, i finally covered big cup night. I have to actually do some real work now.
-j
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
3 Litres of Beer, Jagermeister, and a Big Black Poo.
Part 1.
On Monday night, Jen and I headed up to falls creek for the much anticipated (we don't drink together much. She scuttles off to Melbourne a lot when she has free time.) 'Big Cup' party. And, despite the fact that the actual party was somewhat of a sausage fest, it was a rad night.
We pretty much turned Albury upside down (or spent a good half hour at least) looking for a 'Big Cup' for this party. Things were looking grim until we turned up some sturdy numbers generally used for pouring cordial out of, which we thought fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately this wasnt the case,. We strolled up to the bar (looking like a couple who had invested in matching his-n-hers large jugs) and one jug was filled with 2 litres of glorious beer before the bitchy senior bartender denied the other one because it was a 'plastic jug'. Which it was but surely thats some sort of descrimination when every bastard and his dog seemed to have a bigger, plastic thermos thing going! Jen looked like she wanted to smack the smarmy look off Ms Bitchy Bartender's face, but I settled her down by pouring 20cm of beer and 2.5 metres of foam into her cup. Actually, I think I merely redirected her rage as she stormed outside into the cold to pour out the foam caused by my enthusiastic pouring.
I'm skipping ahead of myself... armed with what we thought were fantastic jugs (heh... jugs. Fantastic ones!) we blasted the ipod and booted Jens little white laser down to Mt Beauty, where we stopped at the pub, drank a little beer, ate a little peanut, and threw a little... dart, before Liz got back home and we could meet her at her house (Liz is Jens best mate. We were crashing at her digs). Now i'm not a creature of outstanding cleanliness myself, but the house was just a tad on the funky side. Three snowboarders who pretty much drink themselves into liver failure every night while smoking themselves silly meant the house smelt like a dirty big sock. I wasn't that phased, but Jen looked a little uneasy as she sat on the couch and complained about a headache. We got a fer paracetamol into her though and she was rip roaring ready to go!
I really need to hit the sack now, but theres more to follow when I post tomorrow! Terrible tales of Jagermeister, "Too Much Beer", and Dragons*!
-j
* Dragons may not be included in said terrible tales.
Part 1.
On Monday night, Jen and I headed up to falls creek for the much anticipated (we don't drink together much. She scuttles off to Melbourne a lot when she has free time.) 'Big Cup' party. And, despite the fact that the actual party was somewhat of a sausage fest, it was a rad night.
We pretty much turned Albury upside down (or spent a good half hour at least) looking for a 'Big Cup' for this party. Things were looking grim until we turned up some sturdy numbers generally used for pouring cordial out of, which we thought fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately this wasnt the case,. We strolled up to the bar (looking like a couple who had invested in matching his-n-hers large jugs) and one jug was filled with 2 litres of glorious beer before the bitchy senior bartender denied the other one because it was a 'plastic jug'. Which it was but surely thats some sort of descrimination when every bastard and his dog seemed to have a bigger, plastic thermos thing going! Jen looked like she wanted to smack the smarmy look off Ms Bitchy Bartender's face, but I settled her down by pouring 20cm of beer and 2.5 metres of foam into her cup. Actually, I think I merely redirected her rage as she stormed outside into the cold to pour out the foam caused by my enthusiastic pouring.
I'm skipping ahead of myself... armed with what we thought were fantastic jugs (heh... jugs. Fantastic ones!) we blasted the ipod and booted Jens little white laser down to Mt Beauty, where we stopped at the pub, drank a little beer, ate a little peanut, and threw a little... dart, before Liz got back home and we could meet her at her house (Liz is Jens best mate. We were crashing at her digs). Now i'm not a creature of outstanding cleanliness myself, but the house was just a tad on the funky side. Three snowboarders who pretty much drink themselves into liver failure every night while smoking themselves silly meant the house smelt like a dirty big sock. I wasn't that phased, but Jen looked a little uneasy as she sat on the couch and complained about a headache. We got a fer paracetamol into her though and she was rip roaring ready to go!
I really need to hit the sack now, but theres more to follow when I post tomorrow! Terrible tales of Jagermeister, "Too Much Beer", and Dragons*!
-j
* Dragons may not be included in said terrible tales.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
'Get off the stage thanks, mate.'
Just one of the lines I heard last night. Along with "put her down, mate" and "the first time I ever gave head was at a dancing competition!". There were probably one or two other chestnuts in there, but those are the ones that stuck in my pickled brain last night.
Went out with James and some of his mates last night to the Elbow and the Globe. James was cutting a rug in his usual Justin Timberlake style up on the stage, with me nervously dancing next to him in fear of a flailing arm or pelvis swinging around and knocking me the fuck out. I realise i'm painting a florid, homoerotic scene here, but there were girls with us, I assure you. More of James' friends, also laughing at his dancing and desperately hoping they wouldnt be the victim of another Justin Timberlake dance move gone wrong. It's pretty good though. You gotta give a guy kudos for gettin way up there and busting that shit out. I wonder if the endless monotony of going out in Albury will eventually stultify that young boisterous spirit. Time will tell I guess...
On the lady front... well I kissed one. Well maybe two, I can't remember exactly but I can definitely pen in one. I don't really know what to make of her either. According to James, she's dirty... which seems like a pretty strong discouragement. I assume it just mean 'she's easy' but hell, so am I, generally! Plus, she was cute and had a slamming body. Nice and small and toned. Gotta love that! What ended up happening though, was a makeout session on the dancefloor, followed by a "Wait here for a sec Jase, I just have to find my friend. I'll be right back!". Two songs later, she wasnt back and I decided "fuck this! She stood me up!" and walked home with Kit (a mate of James').
Good night though!
-j
Just one of the lines I heard last night. Along with "put her down, mate" and "the first time I ever gave head was at a dancing competition!". There were probably one or two other chestnuts in there, but those are the ones that stuck in my pickled brain last night.
Went out with James and some of his mates last night to the Elbow and the Globe. James was cutting a rug in his usual Justin Timberlake style up on the stage, with me nervously dancing next to him in fear of a flailing arm or pelvis swinging around and knocking me the fuck out. I realise i'm painting a florid, homoerotic scene here, but there were girls with us, I assure you. More of James' friends, also laughing at his dancing and desperately hoping they wouldnt be the victim of another Justin Timberlake dance move gone wrong. It's pretty good though. You gotta give a guy kudos for gettin way up there and busting that shit out. I wonder if the endless monotony of going out in Albury will eventually stultify that young boisterous spirit. Time will tell I guess...
On the lady front... well I kissed one. Well maybe two, I can't remember exactly but I can definitely pen in one. I don't really know what to make of her either. According to James, she's dirty... which seems like a pretty strong discouragement. I assume it just mean 'she's easy' but hell, so am I, generally! Plus, she was cute and had a slamming body. Nice and small and toned. Gotta love that! What ended up happening though, was a makeout session on the dancefloor, followed by a "Wait here for a sec Jase, I just have to find my friend. I'll be right back!". Two songs later, she wasnt back and I decided "fuck this! She stood me up!" and walked home with Kit (a mate of James').
Good night though!
-j
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I am PostBot
At work, Susan (one of the ladies I work with) was in her usual devastating form with the rubber-bands. That lady is crazy with those things! I dont know how many times i've worn a rubber band smack in the mouth from her when she's all the way across the bloody room. I was wise to her ways though, and constructed some armour (a chest / face protecting get up made of express post-packs and internal mail boxes, tacked together and with arm and neck holes). All of a sudden, I was PostBot! wielder of letter openers! Impervious to rubber bands! It was a great minute or so up until everyone got sick of firing at the armour and concentrated on my unprotected crotch and legs. I got cranky after that, realised how ridiculous I looked and ripped the shit off.
This week has been pretty crummy. Work-wise anyways. I seem to miss my bedtime every night, so I get tireder and tireder every day and I just feel more and more like a dirty old handkerchief. But then I stay up again! It's such a vicious circle! Tonight though, i'm going to go and get some Tiger Beer (I've been wanting to try it properly since dave gave me a taste) get some Hungry Jacks and watch the fucking Simpsons for a few hours before crashing early for once. Right now, that sounds like heaven.
Jen and I are going to Falls Creek for a 'Big Cup Party'. Apparently you bring the biggest cup, with a handle, and as long as they can jam it under the taps you can have it filled for $7! That will be freaking awesome. I havent drunk with Jen for ages, so that'll be sweet, plus, i mean, Falls Creek. Can you say snowboard chicks? I knowI can! Heres hoping I find one who ran into a pine tree or sustained some kind of brain-affecting injury to hit on!
I'll probably post again before the actual party, but i;m out now. Simpsons is on!
-j
At work, Susan (one of the ladies I work with) was in her usual devastating form with the rubber-bands. That lady is crazy with those things! I dont know how many times i've worn a rubber band smack in the mouth from her when she's all the way across the bloody room. I was wise to her ways though, and constructed some armour (a chest / face protecting get up made of express post-packs and internal mail boxes, tacked together and with arm and neck holes). All of a sudden, I was PostBot! wielder of letter openers! Impervious to rubber bands! It was a great minute or so up until everyone got sick of firing at the armour and concentrated on my unprotected crotch and legs. I got cranky after that, realised how ridiculous I looked and ripped the shit off.
This week has been pretty crummy. Work-wise anyways. I seem to miss my bedtime every night, so I get tireder and tireder every day and I just feel more and more like a dirty old handkerchief. But then I stay up again! It's such a vicious circle! Tonight though, i'm going to go and get some Tiger Beer (I've been wanting to try it properly since dave gave me a taste) get some Hungry Jacks and watch the fucking Simpsons for a few hours before crashing early for once. Right now, that sounds like heaven.
Jen and I are going to Falls Creek for a 'Big Cup Party'. Apparently you bring the biggest cup, with a handle, and as long as they can jam it under the taps you can have it filled for $7! That will be freaking awesome. I havent drunk with Jen for ages, so that'll be sweet, plus, i mean, Falls Creek. Can you say snowboard chicks? I knowI can! Heres hoping I find one who ran into a pine tree or sustained some kind of brain-affecting injury to hit on!
I'll probably post again before the actual party, but i;m out now. Simpsons is on!
-j
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Screw you Jack Daniels. Fuck you.
Hit the town last night with Max, Matty, Max's dad (Max senior) and their respective partners. When they had enough (Max's dad shouted a few too many black Galliano shots) I met up with James and Warren and we proceeded to have som Jager bombs, chartreuse shots (distilled from Hitlers urine, i'm told) and cut a rug on the dance floor, and yes, the stage at the Elbow. For some reason, possibly my dancing, the Elbow died off pretty soon so we toddled down to the Globe. Warren ponied up for a damn Jack Daniels shot for me. It went down sideways but I swallowed any encroaching vomitous tendencies and hit the dance floor. It was packed, it was smelly, but it was also really damned fun. At around this stage, a lovely looking young lady named J dirty danced up to me, and attached herself to my mouth. And thats pretty much how we stayed for the next half hour in various places within the pub. She had a friend there (another J. Lets call her J2) who I introduced to James. Next thing I know, they are mackin' on! I am Jason, matchmaker extroadinaire!
I started off loving the make out session, then I started thinking "that JD shot is really kicking in", followed by "Jasons gunna vom if he doesnt get out soon. So, loathe as I was to do this, I had to pull out a "I have to go, I have work tomorrow" line. I mean, shit. I was having a great time with a fantastic chick, and it was that dastardly Daniels that pushed me over the line and fucked it all up. I got J's number, stumbled down the steps, and feeling decidedly uncool weaved my sorry-ass home. I actually had a large black vomit out the front of the church, of all places, and took some sort of satisfaction out of that as I hit the hay.
All in all, a good night. I'm going to try and get out tonight, and msg J (she's from Sydney and only up for the weekend) so i'll see how it goes.
-j
Hit the town last night with Max, Matty, Max's dad (Max senior) and their respective partners. When they had enough (Max's dad shouted a few too many black Galliano shots) I met up with James and Warren and we proceeded to have som Jager bombs, chartreuse shots (distilled from Hitlers urine, i'm told) and cut a rug on the dance floor, and yes, the stage at the Elbow. For some reason, possibly my dancing, the Elbow died off pretty soon so we toddled down to the Globe. Warren ponied up for a damn Jack Daniels shot for me. It went down sideways but I swallowed any encroaching vomitous tendencies and hit the dance floor. It was packed, it was smelly, but it was also really damned fun. At around this stage, a lovely looking young lady named J dirty danced up to me, and attached herself to my mouth. And thats pretty much how we stayed for the next half hour in various places within the pub. She had a friend there (another J. Lets call her J2) who I introduced to James. Next thing I know, they are mackin' on! I am Jason, matchmaker extroadinaire!
I started off loving the make out session, then I started thinking "that JD shot is really kicking in", followed by "Jasons gunna vom if he doesnt get out soon. So, loathe as I was to do this, I had to pull out a "I have to go, I have work tomorrow" line. I mean, shit. I was having a great time with a fantastic chick, and it was that dastardly Daniels that pushed me over the line and fucked it all up. I got J's number, stumbled down the steps, and feeling decidedly uncool weaved my sorry-ass home. I actually had a large black vomit out the front of the church, of all places, and took some sort of satisfaction out of that as I hit the hay.
All in all, a good night. I'm going to try and get out tonight, and msg J (she's from Sydney and only up for the weekend) so i'll see how it goes.
-j
Friday, September 02, 2005
Work sucks...
This week was one of the longest ones of my life, or so it seemed. Last weekends escapades left me pretty burnt out, and when you couple this with my particular employment (ie. one thats positively deadshit-boring) it turns into it's own unique little variety of hell.
When you're opening mail at work, you get the magnetic media (disk, CD, what-have-you) and clip it to the form that comes with it, date stamp it and send it on it's merry little way. If you get more than one piece of magnetic media, you stamp the sheet, photocopy the form and clip one to each disk.
On Wednesday, I opened a box with two hundred and sixty five disks in it, with a single damned form! Downstairs uncle Jase goes, amongst the silent (except for the tapping of keyboards and the occasional cough) key edit people. I copped many a greasy from these hard working people as I basically lolled about while the photocopier took 15 minutes to spit out 264 copies of the form in all its whirring, clacking glory. I returned upstairs, triumphant that I had just set some sort of record, but then I realised I hadn't stamped the original form. Now there were 264 forms that needed to be individually date stamped. Everyone had a good old laugh while I ferociously stamped the shit out of the first seventy or so forms before my arm got sore as hell and I had to tone it down a bit.
This incident pretty much explains my whole week. On Thursday I had my lunch (garlic naan bread and rice) clog up in my oesophagus and pretty much fuck me right up until I left work early and pulled, for the first time ever, the old two finger down the throat trick to make myself barf. Not a pretty sight I can tell you.
Theres more to write, but I thinki'll split it into 2 entries. Its boring as hell poking your way through a whole mess of text, especially my text.
-j
This week was one of the longest ones of my life, or so it seemed. Last weekends escapades left me pretty burnt out, and when you couple this with my particular employment (ie. one thats positively deadshit-boring) it turns into it's own unique little variety of hell.
When you're opening mail at work, you get the magnetic media (disk, CD, what-have-you) and clip it to the form that comes with it, date stamp it and send it on it's merry little way. If you get more than one piece of magnetic media, you stamp the sheet, photocopy the form and clip one to each disk.
On Wednesday, I opened a box with two hundred and sixty five disks in it, with a single damned form! Downstairs uncle Jase goes, amongst the silent (except for the tapping of keyboards and the occasional cough) key edit people. I copped many a greasy from these hard working people as I basically lolled about while the photocopier took 15 minutes to spit out 264 copies of the form in all its whirring, clacking glory. I returned upstairs, triumphant that I had just set some sort of record, but then I realised I hadn't stamped the original form. Now there were 264 forms that needed to be individually date stamped. Everyone had a good old laugh while I ferociously stamped the shit out of the first seventy or so forms before my arm got sore as hell and I had to tone it down a bit.
This incident pretty much explains my whole week. On Thursday I had my lunch (garlic naan bread and rice) clog up in my oesophagus and pretty much fuck me right up until I left work early and pulled, for the first time ever, the old two finger down the throat trick to make myself barf. Not a pretty sight I can tell you.
Theres more to write, but I thinki'll split it into 2 entries. Its boring as hell poking your way through a whole mess of text, especially my text.
-j
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Saaaatttuuurrrdddaaaayyy!
This was a new experience for me. I actually tried a pill. And while it was a great night, it's Wednesday and i still feel burnt out, so i'm not going to be doing it again anytime soon. At least I know with alchohol, i'll wake up, i'll have a spew and after something greasy, the world is once again a, if not wonderful, at least bearable place. The pills burn out something deep inside you that seems to take a while to get over. I guess when you're dancing for hours when your body is pretty much on empty, you gotta expect some side effects. Regardless, i'm glad i tried it. Fantastic night.
After a lot of farting around at Normies house (we waited til 11.30 because he wanted his mum to give him a haircut!) I was the one non-drunk person and scooted us into Geelong to meet some friends of Steveo's house and get a few more drinks into us while the drinks were plentiful and cheap. Normie made me a vodka & orange so strong that it would have stripped paint so I could make up for lost drinking time.
We sauntered down to the main street at midnight-ish, stopping only for a bottle of water at mcdonalds so we could all take our 'pills'. I was pretty nervous, but I was with a lot of friends, and a few of the more experienced ones told all the 'pill-noobs' to come to them if they started freaking out. I'm not sure exactly when it hit me, but we all hit the dance floor after being let in by one of the fattest bouncers I have ever seen, and never looked back. I swear, i probably looked like a turd. I'm not the greatest dancer at the best of times, but take my awkward dancing style, throw in seemingly limitless energy and fantastic non Albury (read: no 'Love Shack or DJ Sammy crap) music and I burned up the dance floor, epilepsy style, for hours.
The women in Geelong are fantastic. Punk ones, blonde ones, short ones, tall ones. It was my elysium. I just wish I had more game on the night, but there you go.
The first girl who danced into me and chatted was, and I shit you not, a Norwegian Exchange Student. Tall, blonde and fucking stunning, but according to her friend, she goes out all the time, flirts with all the guys and goes home to her probably very large and violent boyfriend. She had a friend who was less hot, less skinny, and decidedly less norwegian who tried to crack onto me. She actually tried to guilt me into going home with her, and I kept calling her bluff by offering her taxi money etc. I guess she must have eventually gotten the hint because she dissapeared at some stage... my addled mind can't exactly recall when.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. There were a few more girls chatted to, a lot more dancing to be had. Benny came out of the toilet once almost crying with laughter. A dude had gotten so drunk, he fell asleep while peeing at the urinal, fell against the wall, slid down that and into the trough. When his head hit the bottom his cigarette actually flipped onto his face.
Eventually we all started burning out and drove home for 3 hours sleep before the longest car trip I can ever remember having. Back, legs, arms, everything was aching something fierce as Steveo, Benny, George and I all hit the tarmac back to Albury.
There is more to write, but I really could not be shagged. Bed awaits!
-j
This was a new experience for me. I actually tried a pill. And while it was a great night, it's Wednesday and i still feel burnt out, so i'm not going to be doing it again anytime soon. At least I know with alchohol, i'll wake up, i'll have a spew and after something greasy, the world is once again a, if not wonderful, at least bearable place. The pills burn out something deep inside you that seems to take a while to get over. I guess when you're dancing for hours when your body is pretty much on empty, you gotta expect some side effects. Regardless, i'm glad i tried it. Fantastic night.
After a lot of farting around at Normies house (we waited til 11.30 because he wanted his mum to give him a haircut!) I was the one non-drunk person and scooted us into Geelong to meet some friends of Steveo's house and get a few more drinks into us while the drinks were plentiful and cheap. Normie made me a vodka & orange so strong that it would have stripped paint so I could make up for lost drinking time.
We sauntered down to the main street at midnight-ish, stopping only for a bottle of water at mcdonalds so we could all take our 'pills'. I was pretty nervous, but I was with a lot of friends, and a few of the more experienced ones told all the 'pill-noobs' to come to them if they started freaking out. I'm not sure exactly when it hit me, but we all hit the dance floor after being let in by one of the fattest bouncers I have ever seen, and never looked back. I swear, i probably looked like a turd. I'm not the greatest dancer at the best of times, but take my awkward dancing style, throw in seemingly limitless energy and fantastic non Albury (read: no 'Love Shack or DJ Sammy crap) music and I burned up the dance floor, epilepsy style, for hours.
The women in Geelong are fantastic. Punk ones, blonde ones, short ones, tall ones. It was my elysium. I just wish I had more game on the night, but there you go.
The first girl who danced into me and chatted was, and I shit you not, a Norwegian Exchange Student. Tall, blonde and fucking stunning, but according to her friend, she goes out all the time, flirts with all the guys and goes home to her probably very large and violent boyfriend. She had a friend who was less hot, less skinny, and decidedly less norwegian who tried to crack onto me. She actually tried to guilt me into going home with her, and I kept calling her bluff by offering her taxi money etc. I guess she must have eventually gotten the hint because she dissapeared at some stage... my addled mind can't exactly recall when.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. There were a few more girls chatted to, a lot more dancing to be had. Benny came out of the toilet once almost crying with laughter. A dude had gotten so drunk, he fell asleep while peeing at the urinal, fell against the wall, slid down that and into the trough. When his head hit the bottom his cigarette actually flipped onto his face.
Eventually we all started burning out and drove home for 3 hours sleep before the longest car trip I can ever remember having. Back, legs, arms, everything was aching something fierce as Steveo, Benny, George and I all hit the tarmac back to Albury.
There is more to write, but I really could not be shagged. Bed awaits!
-j
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Oh what a night...
Last time I went to Geelong, it was with 2 of my best mates. We shot down the great ocean road looking for a campspot near a pub, but due to the Rip Curl Pro (surfing comp) that was on that particular weekend, nary a camping spot could be found. We eventually had to hightail it back to Geelong before it got too dark, pitch our tent and we went to a local RSL club for tea. Must have been our night, because we came out about $70 up each thanks to 'Mr Cashman' (he's a gambling feature on one of the pokies), which kickstarted the night nicely. I wont go into detail, but it was a brilliant night all the way up 'til I woke up in an enclosed tent full of the smells of 3 guys who had far too much to drink the night before, then sun beaming happily down on the tent and turning the smell of cigarettes, beer, and a whole lot of fart into something evil and tangible.
This particular weekend was a beast of an entirely different, but equally good colour. After a day of getting over the sexual deviants ball (last post), Steveo, Benny, George, Brad and I all piled into Steveo's old commodore with a slab of rum and blasted up the highway to the soothing tunes of Steve's crackly radio and the odd noise that 'something' in the back of his car makes (imagine someone hitting the inside of the wheel well with a frozen squirrel). It was still a pretty fun trip though. Mcdonalds stop, and Steveo is a goldfield of hilarious stories. We were all pretty knackered by the time we got to Geelong at 1.00am. We were staying at Normies family's house and all crashed on the floor in his loungeroom. There was an incident in the night where I started sleepwalking, and stepped on George's leg. He woke up, but didnt say anything, and somehow Benny, who was next to him, woke up and squealed,which in turn woke me up and apparently I spent a good 5 minutes saying "sorry, sorry... sorry, sorry..." before going to the toilet and saying "sorry" all over again. I still don't know why Benny woke up when it was George I stepped on, but it was freaking hilarious all the same.
Dammit, I have to finish this tomorrow. I have to go to bed, and I still havent gotten up to the whole IpointI of going to Geelong... the Saturday night! Stay tuned...
-j
Last time I went to Geelong, it was with 2 of my best mates. We shot down the great ocean road looking for a campspot near a pub, but due to the Rip Curl Pro (surfing comp) that was on that particular weekend, nary a camping spot could be found. We eventually had to hightail it back to Geelong before it got too dark, pitch our tent and we went to a local RSL club for tea. Must have been our night, because we came out about $70 up each thanks to 'Mr Cashman' (he's a gambling feature on one of the pokies), which kickstarted the night nicely. I wont go into detail, but it was a brilliant night all the way up 'til I woke up in an enclosed tent full of the smells of 3 guys who had far too much to drink the night before, then sun beaming happily down on the tent and turning the smell of cigarettes, beer, and a whole lot of fart into something evil and tangible.
This particular weekend was a beast of an entirely different, but equally good colour. After a day of getting over the sexual deviants ball (last post), Steveo, Benny, George, Brad and I all piled into Steveo's old commodore with a slab of rum and blasted up the highway to the soothing tunes of Steve's crackly radio and the odd noise that 'something' in the back of his car makes (imagine someone hitting the inside of the wheel well with a frozen squirrel). It was still a pretty fun trip though. Mcdonalds stop, and Steveo is a goldfield of hilarious stories. We were all pretty knackered by the time we got to Geelong at 1.00am. We were staying at Normies family's house and all crashed on the floor in his loungeroom. There was an incident in the night where I started sleepwalking, and stepped on George's leg. He woke up, but didnt say anything, and somehow Benny, who was next to him, woke up and squealed,which in turn woke me up and apparently I spent a good 5 minutes saying "sorry, sorry... sorry, sorry..." before going to the toilet and saying "sorry" all over again. I still don't know why Benny woke up when it was George I stepped on, but it was freaking hilarious all the same.
Dammit, I have to finish this tomorrow. I have to go to bed, and I still havent gotten up to the whole IpointI of going to Geelong... the Saturday night! Stay tuned...
-j
Friday, August 26, 2005
Sexual Deviance
Last night was the La Trobe University 'Sexual Deviant Ball' and it was freaking sweet. Last year a friend actually crapped his pants and was found in a creek, whilst on the same night, Tim somehow ended up at Thurgoona at a girls house who he didnt know when he was dressed as a convict! So this night had something to live up to. It kicked off at Benny's house with a few Jagermeister Bombs and beer until about 8.30 when we managed to pile 10 full grown, rolling drunk, and hideously dressed (One he-man, one nurse, 3 amigo's, 3 guys in suits, one normally-dressed person and a cowboy) guys into Will's 1975 Mazda 929. Lets just say that if the police had pulled us over, we would have been fucked and fucked good.
With the Mazda's suspension getting a workout, and scraping every time we went over any bump larger than a coin, we pulled into the La Trobe park and joined the stream of nurses, tennis instructors, giant-foam-penis's, hot police-uniform clad ladies and less hot, less clad guys in the lineup. Early in the night someone must have had one hell of a vomit in the men's toilet because sweet jesus did it reek. A jumping castle was full of half naked, drunk as hell people rolling around inside with the giant inflatable boobs and penises (penii?) that i can only hope are taken out when it's used for childrens party's. Absolutely gorgeous women abounded at this party. The initial line up suggested a sausage fest, but this fear was put to rest when we stepped inside. The girls must have dont the smart thing and come early to enjoy a body-fluid free jumping castle and fresh scented toilets. When it came to the ladies though, my game was such that I ended up only kissing a girl I used to pick up with a few months ago, rather than actually showing some sack and talking to someone I didnt know. I remember talking to a girl called C* and thinking "sweet jesus, nicest, hottest girl in the world", but as fate would have it, I later saw her macking with some other dude. Ahh well...
After the ball had ended, everyone walked back to Benny's before hitting a cab to go over to the Globe, turning up just as they started kicking people out to close the joint up. As luck would have it, a girl I kind of know called S* was out the front, and, due to the large amount of Jack Daniels in my system, she was the hottest girl in the world right then. 10 minutes later we were in a taxi to my place... I probably shouldnt go into too much detail here, but it was pretty good fun.
We were woken up in the morning to the soothing sounds of Benny banging on my door. Hungover as hell and with a mouth that tasted like a bear had shat in it, S* and I hitched a lift back to Wodonga to a) drop her off, and b) get my car. Mcdonalds restored my will to live somewhat, and Benny, Joely, Normie and I all hit video ezy so we could distract ourself from our seediness. In doing this though, we pretty much hired the worst film ever created. According to Joely, a film with the title 'Whore' could in no way dissapoint a bunch of hungover young guys. But dissapoint it most certainly did. Keep yourself and your loved ones far away from this piece of shit movie.
Theres more to write, but I need to catch a nap before I drive to Geelong with the same mates. Should be a blast!
-j
* I've decided to just use the first letter of the name of any girls I fancy / pick up. I'm not sure why, but it's probably for the best.
Last night was the La Trobe University 'Sexual Deviant Ball' and it was freaking sweet. Last year a friend actually crapped his pants and was found in a creek, whilst on the same night, Tim somehow ended up at Thurgoona at a girls house who he didnt know when he was dressed as a convict! So this night had something to live up to. It kicked off at Benny's house with a few Jagermeister Bombs and beer until about 8.30 when we managed to pile 10 full grown, rolling drunk, and hideously dressed (One he-man, one nurse, 3 amigo's, 3 guys in suits, one normally-dressed person and a cowboy) guys into Will's 1975 Mazda 929. Lets just say that if the police had pulled us over, we would have been fucked and fucked good.
With the Mazda's suspension getting a workout, and scraping every time we went over any bump larger than a coin, we pulled into the La Trobe park and joined the stream of nurses, tennis instructors, giant-foam-penis's, hot police-uniform clad ladies and less hot, less clad guys in the lineup. Early in the night someone must have had one hell of a vomit in the men's toilet because sweet jesus did it reek. A jumping castle was full of half naked, drunk as hell people rolling around inside with the giant inflatable boobs and penises (penii?) that i can only hope are taken out when it's used for childrens party's. Absolutely gorgeous women abounded at this party. The initial line up suggested a sausage fest, but this fear was put to rest when we stepped inside. The girls must have dont the smart thing and come early to enjoy a body-fluid free jumping castle and fresh scented toilets. When it came to the ladies though, my game was such that I ended up only kissing a girl I used to pick up with a few months ago, rather than actually showing some sack and talking to someone I didnt know. I remember talking to a girl called C* and thinking "sweet jesus, nicest, hottest girl in the world", but as fate would have it, I later saw her macking with some other dude. Ahh well...
After the ball had ended, everyone walked back to Benny's before hitting a cab to go over to the Globe, turning up just as they started kicking people out to close the joint up. As luck would have it, a girl I kind of know called S* was out the front, and, due to the large amount of Jack Daniels in my system, she was the hottest girl in the world right then. 10 minutes later we were in a taxi to my place... I probably shouldnt go into too much detail here, but it was pretty good fun.
We were woken up in the morning to the soothing sounds of Benny banging on my door. Hungover as hell and with a mouth that tasted like a bear had shat in it, S* and I hitched a lift back to Wodonga to a) drop her off, and b) get my car. Mcdonalds restored my will to live somewhat, and Benny, Joely, Normie and I all hit video ezy so we could distract ourself from our seediness. In doing this though, we pretty much hired the worst film ever created. According to Joely, a film with the title 'Whore' could in no way dissapoint a bunch of hungover young guys. But dissapoint it most certainly did. Keep yourself and your loved ones far away from this piece of shit movie.
Theres more to write, but I need to catch a nap before I drive to Geelong with the same mates. Should be a blast!
-j
* I've decided to just use the first letter of the name of any girls I fancy / pick up. I'm not sure why, but it's probably for the best.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Assault By Snow
Yesterday I spent the day snowboarding with friends, and to quote futurama, "i feel like i've been beaten up by jesus". Legs, back, arms and stomach all feel like someone had a crack at them with a baseball bat, but it was totally worth it. Brilliant day, awesome weather, hanging with Jen , her man, and a few other mates at Falls Creek. On top of this, i was actually able to stay up on the damned snowboard for more than 30 seconds (I struggle to stay up for 30 seconds, usually). Whooshing down the hills, avoiding the few lesser snowboarders and being avoided by the mass of greater snowboarders. Sure, there were a few faceplants. And i'd be lying if i said a friend didnt snowboard between my legs, taking us both out and getting hopelessly tangled directly underneath a major snowlift in what looked like a very compromising position. It only took a mere 5 minutes of overhead homosexual remarks and accusations before we were on our way again.
Sometime during the day, I was feeling pretty confident with myself, so I lent Jen my gloves (I would have done that, regardless of confidence, mind you. She's cold-blooded by nature. Like a snake) and took off down the "Drovers Run" ski run with dazzling confidence. As soon as I didnt have gloves, I crashed more and harder than I had all damned day. Awe inspiring cartwheels, magnificent rolls, spine tingling crashes where my board dug into deep, soft snow and I had to lay on my back and do a spastic worm manouver to get it out. This was my life as soon as I had relinquished my gloves, and each time I had to dig my poor virgin hands into the freezing snow to hoist myself up again.
I felt pretty chipper all through the day, as soon as we got in the car for the trip home though, I hit the wall hard and dozed off all the way back to Wodonga. After a few pizza's at Baz and Rels I got home and crashed so quick I dont think I remember my head hitting the pillow, and didnt stir until 12 hours later when I had to go to work.
I won't bore my adoring public with a recount of todays work. It was the same as it was every other day. Except sorer. Although an absolutely gorgeous girl came in though, who had been in last week and I had a lovely chat to back then. Although now I had met her... I had nothing to say, so in true Jason style it was "two dollars... thank you. See you later!". No wonder i'm single! No game whatsoever!
Well, i'm out. I just had 3 beers to help me sleep before another day at the tax office, and assuming I dont need to pee every 4 minutes, I need a nice long nights sleep.
Oh, and the tinea is still on the rampage. I'll tell you when, in the words of Christian Rudder: "it turns into a full blown jizz-fest all up and down my legs". Should be sweet.
-j
Yesterday I spent the day snowboarding with friends, and to quote futurama, "i feel like i've been beaten up by jesus". Legs, back, arms and stomach all feel like someone had a crack at them with a baseball bat, but it was totally worth it. Brilliant day, awesome weather, hanging with Jen , her man, and a few other mates at Falls Creek. On top of this, i was actually able to stay up on the damned snowboard for more than 30 seconds (I struggle to stay up for 30 seconds, usually). Whooshing down the hills, avoiding the few lesser snowboarders and being avoided by the mass of greater snowboarders. Sure, there were a few faceplants. And i'd be lying if i said a friend didnt snowboard between my legs, taking us both out and getting hopelessly tangled directly underneath a major snowlift in what looked like a very compromising position. It only took a mere 5 minutes of overhead homosexual remarks and accusations before we were on our way again.
Sometime during the day, I was feeling pretty confident with myself, so I lent Jen my gloves (I would have done that, regardless of confidence, mind you. She's cold-blooded by nature. Like a snake) and took off down the "Drovers Run" ski run with dazzling confidence. As soon as I didnt have gloves, I crashed more and harder than I had all damned day. Awe inspiring cartwheels, magnificent rolls, spine tingling crashes where my board dug into deep, soft snow and I had to lay on my back and do a spastic worm manouver to get it out. This was my life as soon as I had relinquished my gloves, and each time I had to dig my poor virgin hands into the freezing snow to hoist myself up again.
I felt pretty chipper all through the day, as soon as we got in the car for the trip home though, I hit the wall hard and dozed off all the way back to Wodonga. After a few pizza's at Baz and Rels I got home and crashed so quick I dont think I remember my head hitting the pillow, and didnt stir until 12 hours later when I had to go to work.
I won't bore my adoring public with a recount of todays work. It was the same as it was every other day. Except sorer. Although an absolutely gorgeous girl came in though, who had been in last week and I had a lovely chat to back then. Although now I had met her... I had nothing to say, so in true Jason style it was "two dollars... thank you. See you later!". No wonder i'm single! No game whatsoever!
Well, i'm out. I just had 3 beers to help me sleep before another day at the tax office, and assuming I dont need to pee every 4 minutes, I need a nice long nights sleep.
Oh, and the tinea is still on the rampage. I'll tell you when, in the words of Christian Rudder: "it turns into a full blown jizz-fest all up and down my legs". Should be sweet.
-j
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Holy Flerking Schnitt!
Last night at about 8, I was gearing up for my usual few hours of counter-strike before bed when I was asked if i wanted to go to see 'Architecture In Helsinki'. I hummed and hahed, thought carefully over how late it would be (11pm start) and what time i had to get up tomorrow (about 5.30am) and for some reason thought it would be a great idea.
Don't get me wrong, the night was fantastic. AIH don't really play my kind of music, but it was quirky and fun and very interesting stuff, and good music does not come to Albury often enough.
I tried plying my works new employee, James, with beer (he refused. The boy just turned 18 and he was turning down free beers!) as well as downing a good many myself. That shit just went straight through me though. I swear, i'd drink a beer and 3 minutes later i'd have a still cold, fizzy amber pee. I probably took in excess of ten of these before I rolled home at 2am ish.
The penalty for my excesses was of course, work today. I bounced out of bed at 5.30am and was feeling chipper for about 2 seconds before the headspins kicked in and I almost tripped into my wardrobe. There was the standard hung-over/still drunk/shit i'm tired pants ordeal (one leg in... hold it steady... steady... get the left one in... FUCK I fell over!), followed by some porridge that I managed to choke down, and even the taste of toothpaste made me feel like I needed to vom. Out the door i stumbled with hair looking like the cat had combed it and 2 eyes squinting atop some serious purple luggage.
Work isn't terribly stimulating at the best of times, but today was absolutely abominable. When i'm feeling good, I generally zone out and do my thing at work without stuffing it up too much. But today, I was catching myself doing the drunken ponder over many a damned thing that I usually wouldnt pay attention too. I uploaded data for a company called "mezzanine style" or something of that nature, and for a good couple of minutes, I wondered what it would be like to 'do it' mezzanine style.
I then realised that there was no such style, nor had there ever been. It was that kind of day.
The rest of the day was much the same. Slow reactions, reading and re-reading addresses of envelopes I was opening... I had no need to read those addresses! I just had to open the damned letter!. One incident where I caught myself nodding off on the toilet and my long-arse day was done.
I really need to hit the hay... I am a zombie right now.
Oh, and according to my housemate, I have athletes foot. I'm not sure what this entails, but I'll sleep sound tonight in the knowledge that there is fungus growing on my feet. Yee haw.
Last night at about 8, I was gearing up for my usual few hours of counter-strike before bed when I was asked if i wanted to go to see 'Architecture In Helsinki'. I hummed and hahed, thought carefully over how late it would be (11pm start) and what time i had to get up tomorrow (about 5.30am) and for some reason thought it would be a great idea.
Don't get me wrong, the night was fantastic. AIH don't really play my kind of music, but it was quirky and fun and very interesting stuff, and good music does not come to Albury often enough.
I tried plying my works new employee, James, with beer (he refused. The boy just turned 18 and he was turning down free beers!) as well as downing a good many myself. That shit just went straight through me though. I swear, i'd drink a beer and 3 minutes later i'd have a still cold, fizzy amber pee. I probably took in excess of ten of these before I rolled home at 2am ish.
The penalty for my excesses was of course, work today. I bounced out of bed at 5.30am and was feeling chipper for about 2 seconds before the headspins kicked in and I almost tripped into my wardrobe. There was the standard hung-over/still drunk/shit i'm tired pants ordeal (one leg in... hold it steady... steady... get the left one in... FUCK I fell over!), followed by some porridge that I managed to choke down, and even the taste of toothpaste made me feel like I needed to vom. Out the door i stumbled with hair looking like the cat had combed it and 2 eyes squinting atop some serious purple luggage.
Work isn't terribly stimulating at the best of times, but today was absolutely abominable. When i'm feeling good, I generally zone out and do my thing at work without stuffing it up too much. But today, I was catching myself doing the drunken ponder over many a damned thing that I usually wouldnt pay attention too. I uploaded data for a company called "mezzanine style" or something of that nature, and for a good couple of minutes, I wondered what it would be like to 'do it' mezzanine style.
I then realised that there was no such style, nor had there ever been. It was that kind of day.
The rest of the day was much the same. Slow reactions, reading and re-reading addresses of envelopes I was opening... I had no need to read those addresses! I just had to open the damned letter!. One incident where I caught myself nodding off on the toilet and my long-arse day was done.
I really need to hit the hay... I am a zombie right now.
Oh, and according to my housemate, I have athletes foot. I'm not sure what this entails, but I'll sleep sound tonight in the knowledge that there is fungus growing on my feet. Yee haw.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Stormin' Norman
Normie turned 21 on friday night, and it was a freaking blast. I showed up at about 8pm bearing a slab of cougars and was met with a large rubbish bin, FULL of punch (This was Joelies punch. So it mainly consists of cheap wine and vodka), as well as a heap of tequila, curacao, and a fridge full of rum and beers. Last week, just after I had bought him a chartreuse shot, Normie leaned over and vomited under the bar on the pretense of tying his shoes. Vomited... and kept on going. This shows you what kind of a drinker he is.
Drinking games, and a heap of bodyshots ensued (including a few girl - girl and guy - guy bodyshots) before we decided to head out at about midnight. We arrive at the Bended Albow and ... Normie had forgotten his wallet. Back in the taxi, back home, get the wallet, pay $7 to get into the Elbow and its a freaking ghost town. How can they knowingly charge $7 to inflict awful music on us on a large, unpopulated dance floor. The globe proved to be more worthwhile, and with Normie perving on the gorgeous Liz (bar chick), and then dirty dancing with another girl, before she pulled the old "Well, i'm going home now... bye!" and dissapearing into thin air. Many guys can bear testament to this phenomenon, i'm sure.
Some girl danced up to me and we chatted for a little while. I cried poverty when she asked me to buy her a drink. I chivalrously asked her to buy me a drink, and she later stormed off when she saw that I had money enough to buy one for myself and Normie. Its his 21st for gods sake! I have money for THAT, even if i dont for some random chick. Whats that saying? "Bro's before ho's"?
Normie turned 21 on friday night, and it was a freaking blast. I showed up at about 8pm bearing a slab of cougars and was met with a large rubbish bin, FULL of punch (This was Joelies punch. So it mainly consists of cheap wine and vodka), as well as a heap of tequila, curacao, and a fridge full of rum and beers. Last week, just after I had bought him a chartreuse shot, Normie leaned over and vomited under the bar on the pretense of tying his shoes. Vomited... and kept on going. This shows you what kind of a drinker he is.
Drinking games, and a heap of bodyshots ensued (including a few girl - girl and guy - guy bodyshots) before we decided to head out at about midnight. We arrive at the Bended Albow and ... Normie had forgotten his wallet. Back in the taxi, back home, get the wallet, pay $7 to get into the Elbow and its a freaking ghost town. How can they knowingly charge $7 to inflict awful music on us on a large, unpopulated dance floor. The globe proved to be more worthwhile, and with Normie perving on the gorgeous Liz (bar chick), and then dirty dancing with another girl, before she pulled the old "Well, i'm going home now... bye!" and dissapearing into thin air. Many guys can bear testament to this phenomenon, i'm sure.
Some girl danced up to me and we chatted for a little while. I cried poverty when she asked me to buy her a drink. I chivalrously asked her to buy me a drink, and she later stormed off when she saw that I had money enough to buy one for myself and Normie. Its his 21st for gods sake! I have money for THAT, even if i dont for some random chick. Whats that saying? "Bro's before ho's"?
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Cleanin' Fever!
Today I did the the unthinkable, and actually cleaned my car.
Any of you who have seen my car in all its former glory will truly appreciate the magnitude of this announcement. My car was disgusting. Due to a knackered seal in the back drivers side door, rain would seep through the seal, run down the inside of the door, and form in a stagnant pool in the base of the metal doorframe. When that was full, it would run over the top and into the carpet undeneath the drivers seat. Couple this with the amounts of old magazines, payslips, bank statements, socks and general bric a brac which form a protective layer over the wet carpet, and you have a mold farm (yes, there was mold there) that 'pa would be proud of.
Some things of note that i found:
- An umbrella. I have never bought, owned, and cant remember ever having used and umbrella. And yet there it sits...
- Fireworks from a roadtrip that some mates and I took in January.
- Bottles of booze from the same trip.
- An Astroboy figuring, with scorch marks denoting an assasination attempt using the fireworks. Also from the same trip.
- A soaking wet, genuinely moldy sock. Or 3.
- I found my tent! Last used at easter when I went camping with some mates.
- A few months ago i signed up to have have $20 a month taken out of my bank account to go to 'Doctors Without Borders' which I had very much forgotten about. Found my now wet signup form coating the mold. This solves a few mysteries regarding my bank balance.
- A flowered bikini top.
- About $10 in shrapnel! Score!
And despite looking the best its looked in well over a year, the poor thing doesnt run any better than it did. Clean or not, the power steering belt squeals like a cut cat when its cold, and the oil continues to flow out of a buggered seal underneath it. These will be fixed at some stage i'm sure...
-j
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
What is that thing?
I was sitting at a computer, doing 8 hours of data upload at work today, when i felt something a little bit painful on my back. A brief trip to the mirror, and it is the mother of all pimples. It's one of those ones that is just begging to be squozen, and squozen good. There is some perverse gratification to be had from squeezing a pimple of this calibre, and truly this was a pimple to be envied.
The catch is, its slightly too high on my back for me to reach! I couldn't believe it! I can only swat at it ineffectually with my mobile phone while it stands there, mocking me. I guess i'll have to do the responsible thing that all women seem to tell you about pimples and 'leave it alone. Squeeze it, and it'll scar!".
Unless i can fashion some sort of remote squeezing device... hmmm....
-j
I was sitting at a computer, doing 8 hours of data upload at work today, when i felt something a little bit painful on my back. A brief trip to the mirror, and it is the mother of all pimples. It's one of those ones that is just begging to be squozen, and squozen good. There is some perverse gratification to be had from squeezing a pimple of this calibre, and truly this was a pimple to be envied.
The catch is, its slightly too high on my back for me to reach! I couldn't believe it! I can only swat at it ineffectually with my mobile phone while it stands there, mocking me. I guess i'll have to do the responsible thing that all women seem to tell you about pimples and 'leave it alone. Squeeze it, and it'll scar!".
Unless i can fashion some sort of remote squeezing device... hmmm....
-j
Monday, August 08, 2005
Life in general.
At the moment, my life isnt at what you'd call its finest point. I wake up 5.45 every morning, stumble my cold arse out of bed and into my large novelty slippers. Whip up some porridge and work at the tax office for 8 hours every weekday. This might not sound like the slice of hell i make it out to be, but just quietly:
1) Early mornings and I are not compatible. Jen can wholeheartedly attest to this.
2) Every hour i spend working at the mighty tax office, a small piece of my soul dies. There was a period of about 2 hours today that i spent moving boxes of mail around to make room for more boxes. When you labour for 2 hours, one would love to see the fruit of ones labours. Unfortunately, i had just made room for more of the damned boxes.
It's saving grace is, in an effort to make this most mind-numbing of jobs more agreeable, the pay is good, the people I work with are awesome and breaks are ample. Mind you, as soon as i have saved enough to get my butt over the ocean, i am a shadow there. Then, hopefully, my overseas sojourn will provide grist for the proverbial blog mill, as opposed to it's current, tragic content.
After work has ended, i dance out the door and generally to my work (the internet cafe) for a soothing hour or 4 of counter-strike, or if i'm feeling frisky, i hit the gym Jen until out legs are jelly and we cant lift our shoulders properly. Truly, heaven must be such as my life!
After this, theres an early bedtime to looks forward to! Which... shit. It's past that at the moment.
Off to bed I go! I hope all you readers... actually, i dont think anyone has actually read this yet. This is just me... typing to myself. Which seems kinda weird, actually.
Uhh... g'night...
-j
At the moment, my life isnt at what you'd call its finest point. I wake up 5.45 every morning, stumble my cold arse out of bed and into my large novelty slippers. Whip up some porridge and work at the tax office for 8 hours every weekday. This might not sound like the slice of hell i make it out to be, but just quietly:
1) Early mornings and I are not compatible. Jen can wholeheartedly attest to this.
2) Every hour i spend working at the mighty tax office, a small piece of my soul dies. There was a period of about 2 hours today that i spent moving boxes of mail around to make room for more boxes. When you labour for 2 hours, one would love to see the fruit of ones labours. Unfortunately, i had just made room for more of the damned boxes.
It's saving grace is, in an effort to make this most mind-numbing of jobs more agreeable, the pay is good, the people I work with are awesome and breaks are ample. Mind you, as soon as i have saved enough to get my butt over the ocean, i am a shadow there. Then, hopefully, my overseas sojourn will provide grist for the proverbial blog mill, as opposed to it's current, tragic content.
After work has ended, i dance out the door and generally to my work (the internet cafe) for a soothing hour or 4 of counter-strike, or if i'm feeling frisky, i hit the gym Jen until out legs are jelly and we cant lift our shoulders properly. Truly, heaven must be such as my life!
After this, theres an early bedtime to looks forward to! Which... shit. It's past that at the moment.
Off to bed I go! I hope all you readers... actually, i dont think anyone has actually read this yet. This is just me... typing to myself. Which seems kinda weird, actually.
Uhh... g'night...
-j
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Work Shmerk.
Well, another day another dollar.
At my work, we currently have a guy called James learning the ropes so we can call him in when I want to get away for the weekend, or when Jen has a Melbourne booty call to attend to.
At the moment though, it pretty much means that i sit around doing sweet fanny adams while i make HIM do everything... it's all in his best interests of course. I mean, milkshake making is an art. You cant just teach that shit. You have to get down on your hands and knees and make the damned thing. And when the milkshake kicks your arse, you just have to wipe the blood off your face and keep on plugging. Thats the way i learnt, thats the way my fore-fathers learnt (probably), and damn it, thats the way this kids going to learn. It all pays off when you sit down in front of that perfect milkshake, that god amongst drinks.
My mum came into work before to say hi and invite me over for tea. Now, i was planning on going to the gym tonight, so because i was humming and hahing over this, she got cranky and started laying on the guilt. I dont know whether you've experienced a mum's guilt trip, but they truly suck arse. So she almost had the waterworks turned on ("Well Jase... come if you want to. I really don't care..") before i caved in. I'll just do some weights at home i guess. I mean, hell, why the guilt though? I'm just trying to get fit! is it such a dang crime?. Plus, and i'll be honest with you, there are one or two fine young ladies that also populate this particular gym, so it really is quite a sacrifice on my behalf.
I must be off to teach young James the noble art of "cleaning that funky bin in the toilet that people keep missing with their paper towels". Or maybe i'll just TELL him to clean said funky bin. I sure as hell dont wanna touch it if i don't have to!
He'll love it, im sure.
-j
Well, another day another dollar.
At my work, we currently have a guy called James learning the ropes so we can call him in when I want to get away for the weekend, or when Jen has a Melbourne booty call to attend to.
At the moment though, it pretty much means that i sit around doing sweet fanny adams while i make HIM do everything... it's all in his best interests of course. I mean, milkshake making is an art. You cant just teach that shit. You have to get down on your hands and knees and make the damned thing. And when the milkshake kicks your arse, you just have to wipe the blood off your face and keep on plugging. Thats the way i learnt, thats the way my fore-fathers learnt (probably), and damn it, thats the way this kids going to learn. It all pays off when you sit down in front of that perfect milkshake, that god amongst drinks.
My mum came into work before to say hi and invite me over for tea. Now, i was planning on going to the gym tonight, so because i was humming and hahing over this, she got cranky and started laying on the guilt. I dont know whether you've experienced a mum's guilt trip, but they truly suck arse. So she almost had the waterworks turned on ("Well Jase... come if you want to. I really don't care..") before i caved in. I'll just do some weights at home i guess. I mean, hell, why the guilt though? I'm just trying to get fit! is it such a dang crime?. Plus, and i'll be honest with you, there are one or two fine young ladies that also populate this particular gym, so it really is quite a sacrifice on my behalf.
I must be off to teach young James the noble art of "cleaning that funky bin in the toilet that people keep missing with their paper towels". Or maybe i'll just TELL him to clean said funky bin. I sure as hell dont wanna touch it if i don't have to!
He'll love it, im sure.
-j
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Well, following in the prestigious footprints of my friend Jen, i've decided to start a blog. And due to my lack of 'computer hacking skillz... and ninja skillz' i havent been able to setup and configure my own blog correctly on my works UNIX webserver. I mean, hell, i DID that shit at uni! I set up and ran a server with all .htaccess privileges, perl scripts etc, and yet now i am absolutely buggered if i know how to set the son-of-a-bitch up and running. Looks like i'll be crawling to my boss and seeing if he can hook me up next time i see him.
So yeah, much like Jen, i think it'll be interesting to look back at something like this in a few years time, assuming i remember to post something once in a while. Don't hold your breath, ladies and gents. I havent stuck to much in my life so far, so despite my best intentions, my elegant prose may go the way of old yeller.
Anyways, the formalities are over, and im out. I'll write something pertinent at SOME stage soon, im sure.
-j
So yeah, much like Jen, i think it'll be interesting to look back at something like this in a few years time, assuming i remember to post something once in a while. Don't hold your breath, ladies and gents. I havent stuck to much in my life so far, so despite my best intentions, my elegant prose may go the way of old yeller.
Anyways, the formalities are over, and im out. I'll write something pertinent at SOME stage soon, im sure.
-j
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