Thursday, 27 March 2008

Free BBQ Days

Most of you have just had a 4 day weekend because of a Christian celebration but you didn't have to get a note from the local Godbotherers to show that you weren't just sacrificing a lamb on the BBQ and drinking more piss than a Priest after communion.

Now I was raised in a Christian religion---well so I thought til I read that us Presbyterians were Johnny come latelies and were origonally listed as heathens----thus the sacrifice on my hot plate.
Most of you have the same book in your house that you have never read from cover to cover and have no intention to ever do so. Ok, no stone throwing here, but I'm going to admit to actually reading it once and never having been so confused in my life--oh, except my wedding day----hmm, something else that changed my life.
Now I have no idea what to believe----not my ex wife, that's for sure

So we had last friday off because some Romans (hey, aren't they Catholic) nailed a bloke up on a cross because he was going around preaching about his belief ( note to Jehovas Witnesses )
Now this bloke supposedly forgave the Romans gathered under the cross (right, like I'm gonna do that--you drove nails through my hands you arseholes )
This poor bloke dies up on this cross so they take him down and stick him in a cave---he's dead, they dont bury him, or plug up any of the holes like they really do or embalm him----shit, they just stuck him in a cave.
So two days later, for some reason, someone goes to check on him, presumably to see if he has turned a shade of green, and the fucker has gone.
Now here is the big trick. Apparently he is out wandering around and gone to see his mates-----geez, that would frighten the shit out of you----man, lay down, your dead.
So thats why you got Monday off.

Lucky I'm here to explain this to you

Now, being a bit of an inquisitive bastart and liking things medieval and Celtic I went along to listen to a well respected authority on Celts---and here's the big story.
In Celtic mythology, they say that the bloke didn't die up on that cross and that his mates actually smuggled him and his girlfiend out of the country and eventually to Scotland. No, not the end of the story---supposedly from there, they shot through to France and their lineage (yes, he and MM were doing it)are the French royal family.
Just to add a little credence to this story, the holy grail is supposed to be buried under an extremely thick stone floor of a Scottish abbey----the Scots wont let anyone dig it up but some US scientists with Xray equipment say that something is there.

So no more holidays for you unless you confess your sins---and you might need a few days off for that

And 2008 years later, they reckon he's gonna make a comeback---shit, I reckon the whole world will take a holiday for that---another lamb on the BBQ

Monday, 17 March 2008


We are the superior beings yeh, right

We think, we rationalise, we need , we want, we plan, we achieve
We have grown up in a guarded society where we dont want to let anyone see us fail
We just dont want to take a chance anymore

We are now egos
We worry about what everyone else thinks

When it comes to relationships we just dont know how to be spontaneous anymore

We really try to rationalise everything about a relationship
She is too good looking
He is out of my class
He is younger than me
I'm 20 years older than her
She earns more than me
His friends wont like me

We are defeated before we start and are looking for the end before the beginning

Some times a drunken fuck is just that
But other times it is that we have lost all of the inhibitions and have taken a chance. So if you do wake up with that "stranger" in the morning, you might just find that you have the start of something good. You might be able to carry on a conversation and walk hand in hand on a beach and heaven forbid, you might even introduce them to your friends.

I'm sure it wasnt this hard on our forefathers but their expectations were different. They expected to meet someone, get married and have children.
They met at dances and werent half full of rocket fuel.
They met at organisations like boy scouts and guides or participating in or watching sport. They were not egos

So we have developed over the years. Developed into what

So dogs?
Well your forefathers mongrel bred totally adored Lassie, never saw the vet, never went to the poodle parlour or obedience school, walked down the street and sniffed the but of the nearest Woofie and got it on.
Today your little designer bred Paris, goes to the vet twice a month, the doggie psycologist on referal from the obedience school, and has a bow tied in the topknot after a manacure, still sniffs buts and gets screwed by Brutus on the end of her lead.

So just who is smarter?

Is it just that dogs know that the sniffee or the sniffer is available and because there has been no growl bark or bite things just happened.

Now I know that you have walked down the street and spied that hottie and wondered if they were available and if they were interested.
From memory I thing that society frowns upon but sniffing----that only comes later.
So how do you humanise the doggy approach.

I reckon I'm on a winner here
You know those elastic band thingies we wear to save a whale or support sufferers of some nasty affliction--yep, you know---so I'm suggesting some multi striped band that says "I'm single, I'm available and I'm looking"
Now I dont suggest that two such wearers should get down to it on the street corner---you might upset your dog.
But if two wearers pass in the street, share a smile, the ice is broken and they can at least stop and speak.

You just never know where it will lead and it might just get past the egos

God dogs are smart

Saturday, 15 March 2008


I've just been over playing with the redhead--UBERMOUTH-- who had disappeared off the scene for a while.
Of course I've been stalking Uber's blonde Barbie---Steph of Muchado and from there I've been checking out her Haroldnapping buddy, the brunette Kylie, a wasted young lady.

Hmm---does foursome come to mind----I'm only human

But on all three talented publication there has been trouble with TROLLS, WANKERS, FUCKWITS or whatever you want to call them.

Kylie chose to close down for a while because of some wankers threats
Uber was off air for what ever reason and Steph has chosen to fend off the attacks in her own style----and I mean style.

Ok, I dont have one cos just right now I'm only playing and dont know how, but most blogs have a ROLL of Bloggers they read themselves or they have some attachment to or admiration for.

What they all need to start is a BOG ROLL (yep, as in toilet roll) to list out all of the wankers, arseholes, inane cretins and c__nts---hang on, this is my place---that was CUNTS.

Why should anyone go into hiding because of the words of someone else
Why would you choose not to publish their comments---it gives them a thrill when you have deleted them----better to let the world judge them for their own inadequacies.
Why would you turn on comment moderation, ----they still comment and you dont publish and they get an extra snigger while they are masturbating under their rock.

They are not knocking on your door in the middle of the night with their baseball bat and their tiny willies in hand, so where is the big fright
Let them comment---do what you wish if you want to reply--jousting with cretins is fun


We all need to start a BOG ROLL---a list for the arseholes of the bloggersphere

And you only get a bog rolls for an arsehole----oh, ok ladies, you blot too---ah, but what are you blotting

I rest my case

Wednesday, 12 March 2008


Ok, I was never gonna do this again.
Blame the booze or Steph from Muchadoaboutsumthin.
Now get accross there and check out the latest post from this talented lady
As per usual, this light of our lives has grasped a subject(among other things)that may hit a little below a belt or two.
This champion lady nearly went the technicolour yawn during a gob job (Oztralian-gob meaning mouth and job meaning--ah, you know)cos the offending erectile was in a state of cheesyness/grittiness and may have been inhabited by some crawling beasties.
Now you have to understand that if that is your Willy, you aint getting seconds and you could find your name in some publication---deservedly so.

Now this got me thinking

I am a great fan of getting (thank you, and you know who you are) and and even bigger fan of giving. Ya have to love that musky little morsel
And like all of the finest fare in life, the taste is so much better when served fresh.
I have dined at the open door and had doubts about the freshness and even had thoughts ---while almost gagging, does this chick wipe from the back to the front--and that is a no no if you are offering up your hors d'oeuvre on the menu.

OK, so we are there now

It used to be that you were chowing down within a coulple of hours of a scrub and cheese scrape but it is sooo much latr now and it is not polite to ask a prospective diner or meal, if they would like a little splash before dinner.

So here is what we need

We have the mints, sprays and little tabby thingies to hide the garlic prawns
Even aftershave comes in a pocketworthy spray
Underarmers are in smaller and smaller packs (dont try the aftershave--stings like all shit)
Now guys, we have an advantage here. You can get your willy out and wash it in the handbasin but I wouldnt get caught at it by some bikie or gay boy in the dunny of your local----although, you could get a headstart on the night.
Ladies, I cant see you with a leg up in the handbasin having a little splash---well, I can actually,(and I now want you) but you probably cant see it.

So why isnt tere a willy washer and fanny flusher in every public toilet?
(Sorry, if you are from the US, a fanny is a vagina, not a bum--and do you think us Oztralians gag when we hear about you kissing your kiddies on the fanny--no no no, not allowed in this fair land-----oh, and a beaver isnt a dam building rodent--yep, another vagina)

Now it we arent gonna get the washer or flusher we need kind of refresherator and I dont think that dipping sauce is a great option-----yes, I have heard of chocolate sauce-----we need some sort of spray or wipe.(no, dont try spray n wipe--takes the enamel off your teeth---trust me)
Something with a familiar taste. Yep, alcohol tasting (but not alcohol--it stings--yes I have, trust me)or strawberry or banana.

Whatever it is or whatever the taste, there is a big market out there, so get to it but remember my commission.

AND guys---nuts---balls---testicles---they need a scrub too

Happy munching---bloody pubes in the teeth

Maybe thats the last----Steph said they come in threes


Tuesday, 4 March 2008


I never wanted to write a blog of my own.

I'm not sure that I can I'm not sure that I want to now

I was quite content to be a "lurker" going from blog to blog reading about the lives and thoughts of a diverse gaggle of spruikers and talented story tellers.

Some wear their hearts on their sleeves almost pleading for reassuring comments from the blogasphere
Others can see the fun in life and invite you to join in, add to the fun and smile.
Political agendas seem to drive some posts
Sex is the central topic for many and voyeuristically we gravitate there---yep, me too
And those who live vicariously on their blog personas

Of course I couldn't help myself and started to comment and it was only frustration of not being able to access some blogs-(yes, you Steph) that I opened a Blog Account

Hey, long preamble but I'm getting there

So then I get these comments from two lovely ladies---ok, well female blogger (Uber and her Barbie) that maybe I should post myself

OOOOHHHEEE, an invitation from two beauties to come and play in the sand pit----what is a guy to do----a redhead and a blonde-----what a quinella
Sooo, half past a six pack and a half I scratched out my shoppers guide to personalities, exhibiting to the world a sheer lack of talent and lack of tollerance for excessive booze.

Now I wasnt going to do this again but that mongrel booze and some raving KKK fuckwit commenting on Stephs amazing publication, let the genie out of the box again.

I'm not so sure that these lovely ladies have invited me into the sand pit or if they have dragged me into the cess pit

What is it about bloggers with egos---they think that they have the right to try to destroy other bloggers----is it last man standing will win the big prize----but I cant see any prize if you cant read the diversity of any site that wants to publish---and they all have a right to publish on whatever subject they like.
If you dont agree with the post, make a comment but dont launch into a personal attack on the author. If you dont like the content or the author, dont go there

As for the Trolls---who fucking cares about you---you have no talent (even less than me), you are piss weak, ------so come and joust with me and leave these seriously talented people to enjoy the fruits of their labour

Thank you Uber and Steph, I'm a big boy but I really dont need to wallow in the same pit as these inane cretins

Saturday, 1 March 2008


What can you tell about someone from their shopping basket
Yes, we all do it---well unless you have someone to do it for you

Do you just dash in and get out as soon as you can or do you make it a social outing?
Are you that nice person who talks to the little old lady and gets something from the top shelf for her---or head down---it's a chore and I want out of here

Do you just grab what you want or do you notice what other shoppers are buying?

Do you notice that the chunky couple in the towelling tracksuits with the two chubby offspring have the extra large economy size bag of potato chips, three 2litre cokes, a gallon and a half of full cream milk, 5 chocolates, a large homebrand cheese and 2 large tubs of icecream, dont have one green thing in the basket

The single guy has 7 TV dinners ready for the microwave, the tall skinny girl have a box of cereal, six rolls of bog paper and 5 cans of cat food and that lovely old lady has her loaf of bread and two cans of sardines.
Of course the two gay guys have a basket full of vegetables and are busy sniffing rock melons to see if they are ripe.

Look in my basket and you will see that I have a dog, that I like fruit and vegetables and that there is actually some cooking going on at my place.

Do you get embarassed at the checkout while the litle 16 year old checkout chick scans your condoms and personal lubricant?

Will you buy your partners "products" or indeed, will she ask you to buy them?

So what's in your basket ?