Burying the past

I was watching a piece on TV the other day about a bunch of school kids out west somewhere burying a 'time capsule'. It brought back memories of when I was in primary school, how we all put something we thought would be interesting to people in the future into a plastic container and buried it under a tree.
We put in class photos, coins, newspapers... the usual stuff a seven-year-old would think people would be interested in.

But sitting here now, I realise back then that while that stuff was cool, how accurate a picture of life would it have been?

I decided that I would make up a list of things that should go into a more realistic representation of our lives in 2009...

1) An iPod loaded with a 'Rick Roll' to really screw the bastards up... never gonna give you up.. never gonna let you down... never gonna AAAARRRGGH!!
2) A hand-shaped back scratcher on a long stick from Go-Lo. Ha Ha! Imagine the buggers trying to work that one out! One of them would write a thesis on how we must have been hand-worshippers and it was probably a sceptre of some description
3) A packet of cigarettes... let's show them how silly we really were
4) A picture of John Howard... they'll think we all looked like badgers
5) A Ralph magazine, some twat will think it is a guide to fertility rituals
6) A Chiko Roll. Why? Because it will STILL be edible
7) A can of Coke - in 2000 years it should still be drinkable
8) Michael Daley... well hell, WE don't want him!
9) A Star Wars figurine - they'll think we knew more about space travel then we actually do
10) A Snuggy... so we all look like Yoda!

So, basically this will confirm to them that we are junk food worshipping fat bastards, who love Rick Astley, dress like Yoda, root a lot and worship hand-sceptres... that ought to screw 'em!

Tell ya what I want, what I really really want!

Ring Ring... Ring Ring... Ring Ring...

S: Hello?
T: Hi, I'm from 'Blah Blah Telemarketing' in Melbourne and we are doing research into what NSW people want.
S: (silence)
T: Hello?
S: Sorry, I'm just thinking about what I want...
T: Oh...
S: (silence)
T: (silence)
S: Got it!
T: Uh... yes well..
S: Dinner!
T: Sorry?
S: I want pain in the ass telemarketers from Melbourne to piss off and let me eat my dinner in peace
T: CLICK!

Mating rituals

I've been house-bound for some weeks due to being ill (not under home detention for stealing donuts from small children, as rumours seem to indicate) so it was with great delight that I was unleashed back into the general populous yesterday morning. I had to renew my driver's license so headed off to the local RTA.

As usual there was a massive lineup, so I grabbed my ticket from the machine and grabbed a seat. Directly in my line of sight was a young bloke of around eighteen, of unidentifiable nationality, who was so blatantly intent on picking up that it was laughable. Let's call him Wally... for obvious reasons.

The first indication that Wally wasn't in the same mindframe as everyone else, was that he wasn't holding any paperwork, or even a numbered ticket. Add to that, he was paying no attention whatsoever to the indicator board ticking over the numbers as they were called to the counter. Wally was in foreign territory, it seemed.

Next up was the fact that it was 8.45 on a Saturday morning, it was only around ten degrees, foggy and rainy. People were bleary eyed, sniffly and rugged up to the hilt, with many (including myself) who looked like they had just got out of bed. But not Wally... he was primed to go.

He was wearing a tight singlet-like top, fashionably creased jeans and shiny leather boots. He had just about every piece of jewellery he owned around his neck and had obviously spent a great deal of time and hair product getting his tossled look just right. Notably, he had postioned himself directly under the airconditioning heating duct... which made me assume that this was not the first time he'd hunted in this terrain.

The body language was obvious: Aggressive crotch-display seating position, arms carefully folded to ensure his wrists pushed out his bicep muscles, casual lean to one side and oh-so-sexy half-smirk on his face. He knew he was the Alpha Male in the room and had staked his claim to any females that strayed into his domain. Thing is, poor Wally wasn't exactly the most attractive of guys...

He would've weighed around sixty kilos wringing wet and had a rather frighteningly large over-bite. Add acne and body odour... you get the picture. But these appeared to go unnoticed by Wally and he hunted on, regardless.

First target was a young Asian girl who wandered into his strike zone. She sat directly across from him and made the mistake of making eye contact. Wally fluffed himself up, leaned forward and gave her a wink. I nearly laughed out loud when the young lady responded by coughing loudly and moving seats. But Wally was undeterred and postured himself, ready for the next female to approach.

Next up was a woman, 30-ish and well dressed. She sat nearby and was honoured with Wally shifting into a standing crotch-display position (thumbs hooked into beltloops and index fingers pointing to 'the goods'). He gave her his best chin-lift and dazzling smile. She simply looked away, but Wally pushed on. The next time she glanced up, he winked and motioned for her to come over. At this point I could no longer stifle my amusement and laughed out loud.

This resulted in the entire room craning to look at the crazy lady laughing to herself, so I hunched down in my seat, pulled my jacket around me and pretended I wasn't there.

The lady gave him one of the best 'Go Fark Yourself, Buddy' looks I have ever seen. It was beautifully executed and a ten-out-of-ten. Wally sat back down and concentrated his efforts to the next closest target, a woman with two small children. He was dutifully ignored, despite him trying every trick he knew. Again, I laughed and was met with quizzical looks - one man even moved away from me.

I was called to the counter at this point, had my photo taken and then returned to my seat to wait for my new license. In the meantime, Wally had managed to get a girl to talk to him. She was a rather scruffy looking lady (totally out of place in Castle Hill), but this didn't seem to bother Wally, he was putting on his best mating display - and it seemed to be working for him. He was grinning from ear to ear posturing his little heart out, he was a man on a roll...

...until she tried to bum a few dollars off him.

I burst out laughing when he got up and walked out. Funny thing was, she followed him outside and as I was getting into the Jimny, she was hitting him up for a cigarette as well... he looked suitably horrified.

Seems beggars can't be choosers... either way!

Oh, joyous bounties!

Now, I'm not one to buy trashy women's magazines in the first place, therefor when I do read one I am suitably horrifed by their contents. Scary stuff like: 'How do I make my man jealous?' or 'Oh my god, my arse DOES look big in jeans!' or 'Paris Hilton wears underwear!' Gimme a break...

So, it was with the same curiosity that causes you to poke your head into dark places that I opened up one of those 'shop at home' catalogues during a break at work. Dear god... WTF are these people on?!

In order to give you a better idea of what delights-of-random-boganess are available in these leaflets, I'll give you a sample and review - making sure I include some of the incredibly talented copywriting in the ads:

1) FAUX SHEEPSKIN RUG IN NATURAL WHITE: Sumptuous, fluffy, comfy and cosy. These realistic faux sheepskin rugs are so soft and silky that nobody will ever know they aren't real.
* Faux, natrual, sumptuous and fluffy in the same sentence is downright scary. In the dead of night, these faux sheepskins leap onto your bed and tear your throat out... and you wondered where all the bad faux sheep go.

2) WONDER BANANA SLICER: Just press this banana-shaped, multi-bladed, plastic slicer down on a banana and you will have uniform slices in a jiffy!
* WTF...you'd spend just as much time washing the bits of banana out of it as you would slicing a banana. Add to that, anyone obsessed with their banana slices being uniform really needs a punch in the face!

3) LUXURY CLASSIC PATCHWORK LEATHER HANDBAG: Made of high quality, soft and supple patchwork leather, this handbag will delight you with its versatility and style.
* Delight?! Farking hell, obviously someone found a box of these in a storage shed that's been locked up since the 1970's! Dags of leather that have been swept up off the cutting room floor do NOT a luxury handbag make!

4) UNISEX PORTABLE URINAL: Made for both men and women, these sturdy plastic urinals remove the need to leave your bed if infirmed due to illness.
* Unisex? Either someone failed biology or there are a bunch of REALLY uncomfortable old folk out there busting for a pee.

5) ADULT WATERPROOF APRON: This stylish apron is perfect for those times when you need to keep your clothes clean and free from careless food spills.
* IT'S A BIG-ARSE BIB, PEOPLE! Looking at the pictures though, it appears to be pretty heavy-duty plastic around the neckline - may save you from faux sheepskin attacks.

6) MULTI-COLOURED FLORAL KAFTAN - ONE SIZE FITS MOST: Imagine your friends admiring glances when you wear this stylish and functional kaftan. 100% polyester in rainbow colours, it will delight you with it's classic look.
* Oh, dear god...

7) SOFA SAVERS: Correct your sagging sofa seats with this ingeniously designed and easily fitted sofa corrector. Make your sofa look like new!
* It's a stupid piece of cardboard you shove under your cushions because your fat-arsed mates have destroyed them... all for $29.95! For that price, they'd better lift my actual arse, too...

8) LUCKY CRYSTAL CHARM: Delightfully sparkling, this faceted and colourful gem will bring you luck and beauty! 100% unbreakable poly-plastic - a wonderful gift!
* Oh well, being plastic means it won't break into deadly shards when you shove it up the arse of the person who gave it to you...

9) BRAIDED CAT-SHAPED RUG: This amazingly beautiful rug will be a delightful addition to anyone's home. Made from totally recycled materials, it's environmentally friendly and cute too!
* Oh for farks sake... come aaawn...

10) DELUXE NAIL CLIPPERS WITH LIGHT AND MAGNIFIER: This deluxe set of nail clippers will allow even the most sight-deficient person to cut their own nails easily!
* Uh... if you need a magnifying glass and a light to even FIND what you are cutting, shouldn't someone else be doing it for you?

And to top all of this off, if I order within the next 30 days, I get a free goldplated, designer inspired, created diamond, fully adjustable one-size-fits all engagement ring... value $29.95!

Oh! Be still my beating heart!

No kidding, eh?

I've just had an argument with a friend about a few posts I've made on various websites over the last few days, regarding my use of a dirty word. The dirty word I've been using is... wait for it... MISANTHROPE.

What's a misanthrope, you ask? (Please assist by pressing your *RANT ON* button now).

Depending on who you speak to, the explanation ranges from raging sociopaths (think Hitler) to sniping holy-than-thou gay poets with a dislike of society in general (think Oscar Wilde). Personally, I like to compare myself to a (currently) famous character - Dr Gregory House.

I find most of the things humanity involve themselves with to be trivial, time-wasting and futile. I am no slave to fashion, have no interest in fads or current trends, I don't care if my non-conformity costs me 'popularity points'. I lack the 'herd mentality' required to accept religion and become a slave to the expectations of others.

Whilst my list of friends is rather compact, those that do understand and accept me as I am have my undivided loyalty and respect, for life... even if they do stupid things some times and piss me off. I'm not easy to make friends with as I am so finely attuned to your body-language (a gift from my grandmother, apparently) that I preempt your next move and can have you tagged as an arsehole even before you open your mouth. I can hate you on sight... and 99.9% of the time, my original instinct is correct.

I have no time for: multi-generation-single-mum-welfare leeches, people who whinge about how life has passed them by (while sitting on their asses... watching life passing them by), women who whine about not finding the perfect man (my advice to you all is 'Don't set your standards too high and you'll never be disappointed'), people who bitch about their ill health (while smoking their 43rd cigarette and drinking their 21st scotch), those who complain about being overweight (whilst eating a kilo of deep-fried balls of bacon-fat) and those who rely on (insert your Holy Entity of Choice here) for someone to thank/blame depending on their current circumstances because they are too frightened to make their own decisions and then claim the responsibility of their actions.

People... you are what you eat. You are what you do to yourself. You are what you think is real. You are what you believe. Stop blaming outside influences, bad luck, (insert the god of your choice here), other people, family history and social restraints... get OFF your arse and make the life that you want HAPPEN. If you never accomplish all your life's goals... IT'S YOUR FAULT.

In short? Humanity needs to pull it's head in and accept responsibility for causing death, destruction, wars, famine, cruelty, crime, over-population, opression and destruction of the planet. We busy ourselves with fashion trends, power-struggles, earning too much money, bickering over who is pissing in who's corner and whether our 'god' is bigger and better than your 'god'... then killing each other because we disagree.

Have I upset you? Good... now get off your arse and make your life better.

I don't care if people find me weird... anti-social... irreverant... or just downright 'acidic' (a moniker placed on me by one of the most indecisive, uncoordinated, two-faced and socially caustic individuals I have ever had the misfortune to encounter) - if I can improve one persons life by insulting them into living another 10 years, clip the wings of some soul-damaging gossip or embarrass a woman into leaving their fist-happy husband, I've justified my place in the universe without having to make any effort.

Whilst I hate many (with justification) and love very few (with all my heart)... I fear nothing and am content with who I am...

...and I'm happy about that :)

Muesli tastes good... WTF?

I have been making a concerted effort to eat healthy lately... it's amazing what a blood pressure reading of 172/112 will incite you into doing.

Since man first found a way to mix a concoction of grains together that was gritty enough to wear down his teeth to the point that the word 'attrition' was invented, muesli has been - for want of a better word - 'enjoyed'. Seeing as it is talked up as the healthiest way to start the day on a regular basis, I figured I'd give it a go.

Damn... there is SO much to learn about muesli!

Now, it's very rare that I have anything nice to say about something found on a supermarket shelf (unless it contains bacon, chocolate... or both) but after careful research involving annoying the living crap out of any shop assistant who strayed too close... I've actually found a muesli worth eating. Seriously... it's actually edible.

Woollies put out their own brand of healthy crap called Naytura - stupid name, but the muesli is good. After wasting large quantities of cash on 'healthy' mueslis that consisted mainly of either burnt blobs of crumbs held together by copious quantities of sugar and sprinkled with nuts or what could only be described as left over cattle-feed, I gave up on finding a muesli that I could eat.

Wandering around the aisles looking for cheap, tasty stuff that I could mix in with my rat's usual grain-food (I like to throw together a concoction I call 'Rat-Crunchies' from cheap cereals) I noticed the Naytura muesli in the healthy section. It had nuts, it had fruit, it had no toasting, it had no added sugar and it was on special - perfect!

Whilst making up my Rat-Crunchie mix, I figured 'what the hey' and tipped some into a bowl and chucked on some soy milk... awww maaaah gawd... it was good. It was probably the only one I tried that didn't have so much sugar in it that my lips hit the back of my head.

So, in a nutshell - Woolworths Naytura Fruit and Nut Muesli tastes good, and that's a fact... according to rats, both large and small.

January, September, March, April...

Since when - in Australia, anyway - is the second month of the year September?

I've just got off the phone from (insert name of phone company here). The purpose of my call was to find out when my contract expired and possibly lower my plan as I rarely use my mobile for anything other than a handy alarm clock.

After sitting on hold long enough to make a sandwich, I was put through to a lady with an American accent. Now, considering the current situation with call centre hiring policies, I automatically assumed she was somewhere in Delhi and had just finished a course on 'How to Sound Like an American, Australian or New Zealander'... until she had to tell me when my contract expired.

After confirming my ID, she advised me that my contract would finish on the ninth of the second this year.

So... assuming that my contract had already expired, I asked her what deals I was eligible for. I was met with silence, then a rather curt 'but your contract has not expired'. I reminded her that she had told me that my contract expired on the ninth of the second this year, to which she responded, 'yes this year, not last year'.

S: Okaaaaaaay, let me get this straight. My contract expires on the ninth of the second this year, yes?
O: That's correct
S: And it hasn't expired yet?
O: (sigh) That's correct
S: Are you drunk?
O: I'm sorry?
S: Let me rephrase that... what time-warp continuim have you transported yourself into?
O: (silence)
S: Can you please explain to me how, if my contract expires in the second month - being FEBRUARY this year - that it hasn't expired yet?
O: Oh, I'm sorry you must be confused, it's....
S: No, I am not the one who is confused. You are calling from a call centre in Australia, right?
O: Of course I am...
S: Now I KNOW you have been drinking!
O: (silence)
S: I hate to tell you this, but in AUSTRALIA February comes before September. Also - in Australia - the 2nd of September is described as the SECOND OF THE NINTH. We don't 'arse-up' our days and months like Yanks do.
O: (Silence)
S: So... once more for the dummies, my contract is not up until the 2nd of September, yes?
O: That is correct.
S: (Silence)
O: Did you wish to pre-extend your contract?
S: *CLICK*