Sultry

There are days where I regret going to the library. This is one of those days. John and Karmen are looking up the word, "sultry." For those playing at home, sultry is a sensual look that is sexually exciting and pleasing and you get the picture. Why are John and Karmen looking up this word? Do they not realise I am sitting at the same table as them? I must admit I'm used to this behaviour from John but this was a complete surprise from Karmen. Karmen has her hair done up in little pigtails which is generally a definition of sexual innocence, which therefore makes it all the more shocking that she would instigate the looking up of a sexually centred word. Of course I'm not surprised at all to see John jump at the chance to look up this shocking word. He has the hair of a thug. Curly like his weird brain. Of course, if he were to cut it, he would look like a criminal. The same criminal that raided my house, fell through the roof and sued me for damages no less than 18 months ago. If I were John, I would give myself a mohawk. My piece of advice for this post is: If you see a really nerdy guy with glasses, pick him up and throw him into a quarterback. The consequences are hilarious, if occassionally scary to watch.

Tall Stories

Let's face it. Tall stories are cool. They make us look good, they make us feel good and, most importantly, they make us think that other people think that we are good when they really think that we're only raving lunatics with really bad breath. But hey, it's the thought that counts. Being at uni, I am exposed to a great variety of tall stories every day. Now you would think that they would all come from the young squad of steroid-injected, testosterine-driven and only ever slightly apelike in appearance jocks who would be forever recounting how they managed to last more than 20 seconds when they scored the night before. But no, the tall stories come from the upper class, snooty variant of human beings. Yes, I'm talking about the lecturers themselves. Each of them, whether they be tall, small, thin, fat or mildly obese, has their own exhilarating claim to fame. For example, my previous English lecturer stated that she taught in Zimbabwe, the Phillipines and a few unnamed areas in the Asia-Pacific Region. She had us engaged with stories of eating poisonous toads for breakfast (and not dying), swinging through the jungle on vines just to get to school. But lets not forget the riveting conclusion to the story where she would have gunfights with the Yakuza on the back of speeding trucks on her way home each afternoon. What the Yakuza was doing in the middle of Zimbabwe I still don't know to this day, but I'm sure that their numbers are thinner now thanks to my English lecturer. Of course, I'm not one to stray from tall stories. Of course, I don't have the imagination of Academic lecturers but here goes... On Monday, I tripped myself over in the class to get everybody's attention and to this day, nobody is sure as to whether it was accidental or on purpose. There we go, not quite scholarly material with brawls and gunfights but i'm on my way. The only problem with tall stories is that they tarnish our confidence and give us a bleak world view. Every time I hear these massive tall stories about people falling 1200 miles and landing without a scratch, I just feel like a mere human with no real superpowers. So what is the solution? Well you might as well pay attention because I am about to solve the problem once and for all with the ultimate tall story regarding my dear friend Paddy. One day, Paddy went to the gym to increase the density of his Pectoral Massivity Service (PMS). However, the gym was full and he had no idea of how to satisfy his quivering pectorals. So he did what any self-assured man would do. He went to the top of a building with a grappling gun, shot it towards another building and glided between the two buildings, doing pull-ups the whole way... or at least he would have if he didn't get stuck half-way. Now this was a tall set of buildings. It was at least 500 meters to the ground. No ladder could reach him and letting go would mean instant splatting. But this did not phase little Paddy. Our hero is not known for his ability to get stressed out... or he wasn't until he saw a caterpillar heading towards him. He started shaking and hyperventilating and quivering,all the time maintaining a perfect grip on the rope. However all of this shaking caused the rope to stretch, gradually lowering young Paddy to the ground. To this day, Paddy lives. But he is a changed man. Nowadays, the tiniest bit of pressure makes Paddy stress to his limit. His decision-making ability has also been affected from that single bad choice. In order to make a choice, Paddy must now um and ar for at least 7 - 12 minutes before coming to a decision. And that is my story. My advice for this post is: If you're gonna fall from a great height, make sure lots of people can see you. You don't want to make people miss a great spectacle because of your poor planning. Revolt!

Words for John

Did you know that most of the people in this world cannot talk good? Vocabulary and grammar scores are dropping all over the world. People are stupid, dumb, unbelievably exponential failures. Let's take John for example. John wears glasses, has a speech impediment, stares at boobs all day and won't read a text unless it has a double-page spread. How do we help John? It's easy, burn all the models. If all the nude models in the world were ugly, John's interest in them would fade and literacy rates would go back up. Would this work? No. Does this make sense? No. Unfortunately, John is infected with Falesly Accused Tape Hopping Edible Apple Dummy Syndrome (FATHEADS). Does this make any sense? No, I just wanted to call John a fathead. And now I have done so and I feel much better for it. Not better in a literal sense because I hear the sound of john farting in the distance but I do feel better in knowing that I've been wasting my time writing down senseless information rather than doing my uni work. After all, what kind of person wants to do uni work when there is a wealth of distractions available via the internet. After all, look at facebook. This little piece of internet software has been responsible for the degradation of uni girls everywhere.Not only will they complain in class but now they can complain on the internet as well. i am not safe. Must I spend the rest of my life whether I am in class or at home? I say no more. From now on, every negative posting will be reimbursed with a punching on the arm for John. Of course, the punching may be waived if John chooses to stroke Paddy on the glorious Pectoral Package. Either way. She likes cloth. And of course, I shall provide my first piece of weekly advice in 2 years. If you are on a diet, do not go to the fridge. Even if you go for a look, you will eventually be sucked in to a delight of pretzels, lollies and pringles. In other words, fridges make you fat. Deal with it.

A Call To All Comedians Out There

Now this is something that simply has to be said and we all know it's true. Why are all the comedy talk shows exactly the same? Yes I'm talking to you David Letterman, Jay Leno and Ellen Degeneret-... Degenesis-... Degenitool... whateva. Anyway, my point is that they are all giving us the same thing: Opening comedy, guests which may or may not include sideshow talent (mouse-jugling anyone?), weird segments followed by a musical number by a band that the comedian probly has never seen before. So, what I suggest is change it all around... First of all, put the music on at the start. I mean, half the audience only watch those anyway. Next, ditch the guests. They aren't funny. They are boring. They make me write short sentences. In their place, just have torture games for the studio audience. Throw eggs at them and then turn blindfolded chickens on them. Either that or simply have a bullrush in the studio. The contestants not hurt would win the grand prize and get to grope paddys pecks. Finally, put the dry comedy at the end of the show. Most of the time, it's crap anyway and we'll be able to change the channel without the fear of missing the part where everyone gets hurt. But trust me, make these changes and you'll have the greatest comedian talk show ever. Oh, and by the way, I'm making my awesome show, "Audience Gets Tortured After The Musical Number and Before the Dry Comedy." If I see any of my ideas copied, my hobo lawyer will be after you.

Have you ever noticed how much people will talk shit just to be heard. And I'm not talking about those chicks who will go on and on about how their boyfriend is a jerk and how they're going to leave him... well yea i am. But seriously, how many people are there who will just talk about absolutely nothing? I mean, I got a phone call from some first year uni student my dad knows, and he talked for ten minutes about headers and footers in documents. First, going on and on about how to make them and then worrying about what he should put in them. And then when he finally finished, he would go back to their start. It was like a three-step process: Worry, bullshit and repeat. As if I needed to hear it a second time...third time, and the less said about the fourth the better. But even that guy isn't the worst. You're running late for work, about to leave the house and then the phone rings. You try and end the conversation but you're talking to one of those bullshit-artists who just won't shut the f*** up. Even when they've said goodbye, you'll find that you're still talking to them five minutes later. That is why, and I can't stress this enough, always make sure that you are calling to or from a mobile. That way, you have every excuse up you're sleeve. Scratch the phone and say the signal dropped out, hang up and say that you ran out of credit or simply say you're driving and a cop is now chasing you and that it is all their fault and that you'll be expecting a blank cheque in the mail. Then take whateva the hell money you can get, use it to buy shitloads of maccas until you grow as fat as kim beazley. anyone whose seen him before will know what I mean. As for everybody else, you probably don't want to. so after you become a fat barstard, take whateva money you have, fund a bunch of lawsuits against maccas and spend your life on an island swimming in money and hiring hookers. And trust me, if you have a body like beazley, they'll be jacking up those prices. Seriously, how do those hookers do it? Seriously, some of them must have politician fetishes (just look at our good buddy kevin rudd), fatshit fetishes, or they just do it for the money. After all, thats why I get up each morning off my bed of spikes, eat a handful of insects and then stick my hand into a glass cage filled with scorpions while passer-bys throw pennys at me. I don't do it for the love of pain or in the hope that some random girl will come by, have a scorpion fetish and run away with me. No. I'm doing it for those goddamn pennies. I already have three n that means I'm about halfway towards having the money to pay off Paddy's big settlement. And for the record, that cliff-pushing incident was as much your fault as it was mine. But what the hell is the deal with that anyway. You shouldn't be able to sue somebody just for pushing you over a cliff. I mean, if you're standing so close to a cliff that you can be pushed off by an innocent shove, I think that says a lot about your willingness to leave, anyway. All the same, I will get you those six pennies paddy, even if i do have to eat bugs and stick my hands in scorpion boxes for the rest of my life. I leave you now with my point of advice for the week: If you're ever plan on applying for a prime minister or presidential position in the future, don't go to a strip club overseas AND take cameras that are filmed and operated by someone else. Trust me, it will come back to haunt you.

Is there Judy in all of us? No.

There are some people who say that you are your own harshest judge but think about it, those people must really be self-obsessed, self-conscious wankers. I think, if anything, people judge themselves better than anyone judges them, and they certainly rate themselves higher than anybody else. Take me at high school, people in my class judged me as an idiot who slept through most of his classes while i judged myself as the only guy awesome enough to ignore the teachers and sleep while sitting in the front row. And yet my teachers still liked me. But if you think about it, if you were a contestant on a "who's the hottest" contest as well as the judge, who would you give the gold medal to? as well as the silver and bronze in my case. of course, if i had been sued millions of dollars for taking my ex-girlfriends dog and ended up in some weird-ass tv sitcom court, i would definiately want to be the judge. not only would i not ask myself stupid questions about whether or not i slept with the dog, i would also be able to ask the ex if perhaps her unsatisfying sex life led to me stealing said dog before eventually ruling that the ex pays me woteva money she has (27 cents, last count) and leaving with an entourage of models while said dog is left behind in the courtroom. am i a good judge? no but at least my rules work for me.

Drink me, drug me, anyway you punch me

sometimes i wish i were a celebrity. all you gotta do is grab boxing gloves and a camera and punch out Mr T while your drunk friend harry films it (or harriet, our PE teacher says that guys and girls are the same which means they can all do the same things and girls everywhere have testicles). Once your drunk friend sam(antha) looks at the tape, youre in. of course if thats too hard for you, just tape yourself screwin somebody, "accidentally" give it to the media and you will be making crappy movies, singing crappy songs and going to jail in no time. of course, if i were a celebrity i wouldn't just get caught throwing buffup drugs out a window or driving like a drunk skank and getting pulled over ten times only to go to jail for a few days. i'd take the high road and sing at a charity concert, claim tax exempt status, make some cash in some crappy hair gel or nutri grain ads and live out my days in a hawaii condo smoking pot and sniffing petrol. then if i ever need any money, all i need to do is write a bad children's book or appear in the occasional music video with blond washed up singers making out with each other. maybe i could use paddy and lindsay lohan...paddy doesn't have much hair but i could always paint him