That was a big day. I'm currently in thailand. Yesterday I woke up at 11am after 3 hours sleep, I was well too excited for the next days activities. I went to work last night till 11pm then I went to the airport and flew out of darwin at 3am. My flight to and out of singapore was fine got to KUL with time to spare but still dashed just to get in a spot of cardio in. Waited nearly an hour for my bags to come up... fear set in. Went as fast as I could frantically scaling the trains and elevators and escalators and tunnels and fucking shark bearing lakes that is KLIA-KLIA2, for fuck sake i grew up in a whole town that was 1 hundredth of that fucking airports size, I would not be a least bit surprised if ol'MH370 is just parked up somewhere in that fucking snacks and ladders jungle that they call an airport, probably just waiting on a fuel truck to come hook them up so they can push back and be on their way.
Anyway, I missed my flight to Sri Lanka, missed doing the clothing drop with the smile guys and missed glorifying how I got in and out of KUL in and hr 50. After that I tried every airline, they were throwing figures like $1700 one way basic economy, it's a 3hr flight for cunts sake! I booked a flight for $600 doll hairs not happy about it but I was on my way again... oh nup, that bad boy got cancelled didn't it. I was boarder line tears and considering just flying back to Darwin and admitting defeat to the concrete when some random old Malaysian guy came up to me and asked me what was wrong ( I must of been omitting desperate vibes) I told him my gig and that my only option was 1700 or wait for 24hrs for the next days flights yadda yada, old mate from no where pulls his iphone 5's out with mophie extra battery case and I'm thinking this old dude looks like he can barely see his glasses let alone tear down structures with angry birds and such, but the old dog just starts whaling this things like its a les paul next thing he's got my credit card and we are running for a gate and I don't know what the fuck is going on, am I about to be raped by this guy and if so has my drought been long enough to almost be hoping that that's the scenario.... any way turns out he is some sort of travel agent Yoda and has found a way for me to pay 500 and get to colombo before midnight tonight... which is why im now in thailand on my way to colombo.... thank you travel agent yoda, although im dissapointed you didnt help break my drought you did save me from going king kong up in this bitch. still no sleep, im looking down the barrel of a 36-40hr sesh. #bongon
Friday, June 20, 2014
Monday, May 12, 2014
Common Misconceptions Intro/Birth
Of late I've been slacker than the rope strung between 2 posts in an inappropriately busy spot under some pseudo hippies attention grabbing feet. When you only walk the earth at night though, being anything but slack is tough. The sun gives you so much energy, like way more than I ever thought and since I've been working night shift for the last month I've been sleeping pretty much every second I'm not working eating or in transit between the 3. I finished work sunday morning at 5am and started at 5pm monday night, for the maths C people in the room thats 36 hrs I had off, I slept 28 of those hours, no shit 2by 12hrs and a 4 hr power nap. How the fuck Bill and Eric are ever able to put up with Sookies shit I have no idea. When I'm doing these night shifts, replying to a simple text feels like I'm developing some new ground breaking algorithm for fixing homosexuality. Jokes, calm ya farm.
So I drafted up a post a while back yonder's ago that was titled "Things you're getting wrong on facebook", I just jotted up a couple key points and when I went to elaborate on one of the topics I realised there was enough subject for individual posts. So I've decided to do some what of a series using these facebook fuck ups (much like the friday phrase, which subsequently had to be shut down once I became re-immune to work site language and now probably say worse fucking things than any cunt) I have gotten pretty deep on one about beards but as yet can't complete because I feel the over sleep has me in far to a pansy a state to really do it justice so I'll just drop the smallest of the lot in this post and hopefully on my up coming break get something a bit bigger and brutal.
Birthday Appreciation Appreciation.
Some people choose not to show the date of their birthday on FB page, I for one am not one of those idiots. I figure if I'm going to have a facebook account I might as well be getting the milk from it's tit otherwise whats the good in the cow that you can't slaughter and eat at the end anyway. There's 2 good things about facebook, the first is using it as a tool to gather information i.e. traveling shit, fixing shit, buy/sell shit, see if someones single and shit... The other is to gloat about things that before facebook/instagram pretty much went completely unnoticed to people that weren't directly in contact with u at the point of happenings. Pre-fbook if you got a really good breakfast with epic looking berries (fuck as I'm writing this I realise that pre social media I don't remember food looking so cool or even cafes looking cool, I definitely don't think people were going to coachella and if so there wasn't massive useless spacemen and shit there, fuck social media just mad everything 100 times more cosmetic slash probably expencive...) anyway back from that epiphany, yeah if you had one of this things no one cared in the slightest, you didn't care, why should you- the berries, granola and swirled bush honey from Istanbul would soon be ingested and after your body took all the good things if you were male, it would pass out as poo... not really worth sharing to other people (females I don't know how that stuff leaves your body or if that's what in the end makes babies...). Now days though, we gloat and gloat and goat (did that on purpose gloat and goat so close but so far) about anything we think might warrant a "like" and when we get it we are so pumped.... pumped someone took the time to click once on there mouse or more likely in this day and age track pad on a love heart or thumbs up and approve our gloating.
This is what brings me to my birthday subject, when your yearly birth anniversary rolls round and everyone does the little post on ya page and ya feel good, and you should feel good it does feel good but when that happens it should be kept that way. Just you feeling good. When people have written their little diddy on your page they've already seen that you are getting a lot of diddies, in some case diddie on diddies on diddies. So when this has happened there is no need for you to boast that you felt the love from everyone so that people, incase they hadn't noticed it was your birthday would then too diddy or if they hadn't seen you got 25 people up in your birthday ass and you're proud as punch about it, they would in tern now know... cause lets break it down for just a second, if the average keyboard key strike depth is 0.8 mm and we are rounding it up to 1mm for ease of explanation and the average diddy is 3 ta 40 characters long, 3 being the most caring HBD with this maths the average diddy is 21.5 mm of key striking, so about a $2 coins diameter of finger movement is exerted in the general well wish. Now, does that kind of input really show love of any manner? There is more physical and mental out put used in picking a booger and you want to put a message out there to everyone that less than picked a booger for you that you appreciate their love and it means a lot. Howz about next time its your birthday, if you have to write anything to the masses try something along the lines of "hey mother fuckers instead of picking your nose how about you pick me up a pair of those new nikes Yeezus realised so I've got something good to gloat about".
So I drafted up a post a while back yonder's ago that was titled "Things you're getting wrong on facebook", I just jotted up a couple key points and when I went to elaborate on one of the topics I realised there was enough subject for individual posts. So I've decided to do some what of a series using these facebook fuck ups (much like the friday phrase, which subsequently had to be shut down once I became re-immune to work site language and now probably say worse fucking things than any cunt) I have gotten pretty deep on one about beards but as yet can't complete because I feel the over sleep has me in far to a pansy a state to really do it justice so I'll just drop the smallest of the lot in this post and hopefully on my up coming break get something a bit bigger and brutal.
Birthday Appreciation Appreciation.
Some people choose not to show the date of their birthday on FB page, I for one am not one of those idiots. I figure if I'm going to have a facebook account I might as well be getting the milk from it's tit otherwise whats the good in the cow that you can't slaughter and eat at the end anyway. There's 2 good things about facebook, the first is using it as a tool to gather information i.e. traveling shit, fixing shit, buy/sell shit, see if someones single and shit... The other is to gloat about things that before facebook/instagram pretty much went completely unnoticed to people that weren't directly in contact with u at the point of happenings. Pre-fbook if you got a really good breakfast with epic looking berries (fuck as I'm writing this I realise that pre social media I don't remember food looking so cool or even cafes looking cool, I definitely don't think people were going to coachella and if so there wasn't massive useless spacemen and shit there, fuck social media just mad everything 100 times more cosmetic slash probably expencive...) anyway back from that epiphany, yeah if you had one of this things no one cared in the slightest, you didn't care, why should you- the berries, granola and swirled bush honey from Istanbul would soon be ingested and after your body took all the good things if you were male, it would pass out as poo... not really worth sharing to other people (females I don't know how that stuff leaves your body or if that's what in the end makes babies...). Now days though, we gloat and gloat and goat (did that on purpose gloat and goat so close but so far) about anything we think might warrant a "like" and when we get it we are so pumped.... pumped someone took the time to click once on there mouse or more likely in this day and age track pad on a love heart or thumbs up and approve our gloating.
This is what brings me to my birthday subject, when your yearly birth anniversary rolls round and everyone does the little post on ya page and ya feel good, and you should feel good it does feel good but when that happens it should be kept that way. Just you feeling good. When people have written their little diddy on your page they've already seen that you are getting a lot of diddies, in some case diddie on diddies on diddies. So when this has happened there is no need for you to boast that you felt the love from everyone so that people, incase they hadn't noticed it was your birthday would then too diddy or if they hadn't seen you got 25 people up in your birthday ass and you're proud as punch about it, they would in tern now know... cause lets break it down for just a second, if the average keyboard key strike depth is 0.8 mm and we are rounding it up to 1mm for ease of explanation and the average diddy is 3 ta 40 characters long, 3 being the most caring HBD with this maths the average diddy is 21.5 mm of key striking, so about a $2 coins diameter of finger movement is exerted in the general well wish. Now, does that kind of input really show love of any manner? There is more physical and mental out put used in picking a booger and you want to put a message out there to everyone that less than picked a booger for you that you appreciate their love and it means a lot. Howz about next time its your birthday, if you have to write anything to the masses try something along the lines of "hey mother fuckers instead of picking your nose how about you pick me up a pair of those new nikes Yeezus realised so I've got something good to gloat about".
Friday, April 4, 2014
The invitation is dead
I grew up in a house where cash money monay was scarce. I'm stoked that it was scarce because I think it was instrumental in instilling some of my key values and characteristics. How ever, being so I was never the kid at school that had the birthday parties, between staples, rent and the occasional dagwood dog there just wasn't the bills stacked in our crib. Fortunately friend making was always a strong point so if there was a kid putting on a shin dig in my grade then I often made the cut(usually named Timmy, Kevin or Phillip, I don't know why kids with names like that always had cash cow parents that filled real life love and lessons with gifts and distractions). We all remember those parties, shit was unreal. Pinning tails on donkeys, smacking the absolute shit out of a animal paper mashe only to be rewarded with treats, hitting kids on the head and calling them ducks (and then later in life the RSPCA has the audacity to try charge me for trying to whale some treats out of an animal, you did this, parents!) The games, the foods, in some case's usually philips, the rich turd's case maybe even a jumping castle. Not only was it free but because I was from a family with less scrill I didn't even need to bring a present, then at the end of the whole sugar high experience mother fuckers would give you a bag of lollies to take home and further taunt my already tired mother with energy I couldn't understand or utilise in any other way than screaming and fighting my brother. This was all well and good but the pre cursor was the tits, it was the real rite of passage to primary school in the 90's. The Invitation. They were a thing of beauty, always themed whether it be race cars, beach, carnivals... the colours, the way the names, date and place were hand written in some cases even by the kid himself. When that folded piece of pastel pleasure hit your school desk you knew you were in the elite, this rich little fuck had everything any kid could want but more so he wanted you at his house to enjoy it all and he didnt care what it cost his parents you were going to have a good time and forever be in his debt, forever the funny kid that could be swooned with just some cake and a lolly filled animal. He had you and if you were like me you didn't give no fucks, the treats were to fine.
These days however.....
I get like 80 invites a day. Which if they were pastel pieces of paper and part of, at most 15 piece ensemble then I'd be stoked. But no, they are via facebook, there is usually 300-1000 other people invited.... The really shitty thing that boils my free cake loving blood is they offer nothing and want everything. Cash to enter, cash for drinks, heaps of cash for things that look like lollies. They put music no bible reading human could ever play party games too. Chance's are you'll drop the expensive drinks, regret the expensive lollies and not dance one step to the horrible loud music that is being chosen by someone who looks so aloof that if you were confident enough you could probably steal all their equipment before they even pretend to care.. (guys name is also probably Phillip) All this and at the end there is no doggy bag of treats, these parties usually end with some horrible female being directly rude about your imperfections or worse that girls boyfriend making imperfections to your skull.
I don't know. Those invites just really get me down, they've ruined something I held in such a high regard as a child. I fear that if the invites have been ruined what's next.... Your call internet.
These days however.....
I get like 80 invites a day. Which if they were pastel pieces of paper and part of, at most 15 piece ensemble then I'd be stoked. But no, they are via facebook, there is usually 300-1000 other people invited.... The really shitty thing that boils my free cake loving blood is they offer nothing and want everything. Cash to enter, cash for drinks, heaps of cash for things that look like lollies. They put music no bible reading human could ever play party games too. Chance's are you'll drop the expensive drinks, regret the expensive lollies and not dance one step to the horrible loud music that is being chosen by someone who looks so aloof that if you were confident enough you could probably steal all their equipment before they even pretend to care.. (guys name is also probably Phillip) All this and at the end there is no doggy bag of treats, these parties usually end with some horrible female being directly rude about your imperfections or worse that girls boyfriend making imperfections to your skull.
I don't know. Those invites just really get me down, they've ruined something I held in such a high regard as a child. I fear that if the invites have been ruined what's next.... Your call internet.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Late Phrase.
I pen this weeks Friday Phrase with my donger door open. Right now in front of my room, out on the path there is 40 blokes gathered speaking work, wealth and football. If I closed my door I'd be regarded as a cunt and not in the good sense of the word. So I yell stats from the NRL site I'm toggling between so I've got an excuse to at least hang in my room. The door open though has the aircon colliding with the warm, dank, damp air of the top end this causes my room to be a focal point of mass condensation. I sit hear yelling NRL stats in my deepest cunt voice, growing bacterial fungals in my condensating* room and the thing that keeps me calm is the satisfaction that while amidst all this blokeyness going on I've got Frank Ocean in my head phones, a gay, black man singing rnb to minimalist beats all of which are the enemy to the outside going ons. Anarchy in the donger village.
Any way back to the phrase.
Last week I flew back up to work. Everything about the trip was reminiscent of the last and the one before it. I took only carry on because baggage carousels give me anxiety, I go early so I can sit in qantas club as long as possible. For some reason I feel like I've finally made it when I sit in there, people don't know what I do or where I'm going and I hope their assumptions are that I'm a professional board sporter of some sort or a musician or something cool. Sometimes I get so involved with that though that I too assume that thats what I'm doing.. to you real life board sporters and musicians fuck you must feel good in airports knowing that you're not going to darwin to pour concrete yet somewhere tropical to stay in nice hotels and deny hot girls that want all in ya grill. Anyway on this flight I was sat next to this frail little old lady, she was somewhere between the ages of 90 and post-mortem, clothed in nun apparel and baring a pretty heavy accent that I'm calling was lithuanian and I'm not saying that because I'm familiar with said accent yet more so cause I ain't. So, this possbile passed, Lithuanian nun struggled with the new ipad screens qantas are running this resulting in 75% of my flight trying to decipher the lithglish questions and help fix the problems. Pretty standard stuff, I was more then happy to help and after the flight I didn't think about it once more.
Until... And this is where the friday phrase took place. This case though it's not what I heard (as bad as it was) but more so how I replied. Wednesday morning some 4 days after the flight a bloke that I work with in passing by stops me. We are both already sweating profusely and I don't know if he is but I sure know that my thoughts are on surviving the day with out developing bad gooch chafe the few steps I've already taken that day are making me worried (fire retardant clothing and dank heat man, shit is rough) Danny way, ol' mate goes to me, oh and I must make a point of this, as "boss", "champ", "big guy", "Brus"etc stops to engage an actual conversation I've already walked passed. See in big trade-men sites everyone you walk past you give them a quick stare use one of the mate based address's like "how ya goin big dawg?" but you don't actually ever stop to hear the answer and the other guys just asks the same question with a different bunch of words and you don't answer him either, you seriously spend most of your day passing other blokes trying to keep your acknowledgement/addressing's fresh and different, as I write this i realise how fucking weird that is haha. Sorry carried away again. Ol' mate goes to me "saw ya on that flight?/!" I reply "oh yeah, she's a fucken long one to still be in the same cuntree hey?/!", "yeah it is, lucky for you looked like you were getting INTO THAT OL' NUN"... And this is where the shameful reply came. Before I let this out I just want to let my mum, maybe some older family member ie aunts and such and also any girl I'm slowly developing a online presence with, you know liking a couple photos on ya insty then stepping up to a comment here or there clasping at any straw of humour to share a skerrick of common ground, something..anything that will warrant a facebook add, then from there conversation in chat where we both use google and dictionaries to make ourselves seem smatter and more worldly than our australian hickish selfs are then hey maybe that goes well maybe you're convinced I'm a decent enough guy and I'm convinced you're convinced so we get to phone messages maybe snap chat, things are going swimmingly you're thinking yeah this guy is a good egg. Well if your at that stage or are one of these people maybe don't read on or if you do, know that I said this out of adapting to my surroundings and not because these are thoughts or things I would say in any other environment. This is proof that you are a product of your enviroment. I replied "Yeah cunt, nuns are sluts"..... as soon as it left my mouth I knew I'd done wrong. I thought "wait a minute, isn't nun the antonym for slut?" but I was in darwin on a huge job site and ol' mate just says "yeah bro, they fucking love it" and we both carried off into the dank, damp gooch crucifying day that is my life. #sorrymum
Just quickly while you're already thinking I'm a douche. This only applies to males and possible lesbians with a thing for straight women. But how is it when you see a girl post something on facebook and you're thinking wait a minute i thought her last name was "......" and then it clicks that she has somewhere along the lines gotten married and you're first thought is oh shitty, there goes that. Well when you do think thoughts like that remember, god made us this way- conscious clear.
Any way back to the phrase.
Last week I flew back up to work. Everything about the trip was reminiscent of the last and the one before it. I took only carry on because baggage carousels give me anxiety, I go early so I can sit in qantas club as long as possible. For some reason I feel like I've finally made it when I sit in there, people don't know what I do or where I'm going and I hope their assumptions are that I'm a professional board sporter of some sort or a musician or something cool. Sometimes I get so involved with that though that I too assume that thats what I'm doing.. to you real life board sporters and musicians fuck you must feel good in airports knowing that you're not going to darwin to pour concrete yet somewhere tropical to stay in nice hotels and deny hot girls that want all in ya grill. Anyway on this flight I was sat next to this frail little old lady, she was somewhere between the ages of 90 and post-mortem, clothed in nun apparel and baring a pretty heavy accent that I'm calling was lithuanian and I'm not saying that because I'm familiar with said accent yet more so cause I ain't. So, this possbile passed, Lithuanian nun struggled with the new ipad screens qantas are running this resulting in 75% of my flight trying to decipher the lithglish questions and help fix the problems. Pretty standard stuff, I was more then happy to help and after the flight I didn't think about it once more.
Until... And this is where the friday phrase took place. This case though it's not what I heard (as bad as it was) but more so how I replied. Wednesday morning some 4 days after the flight a bloke that I work with in passing by stops me. We are both already sweating profusely and I don't know if he is but I sure know that my thoughts are on surviving the day with out developing bad gooch chafe the few steps I've already taken that day are making me worried (fire retardant clothing and dank heat man, shit is rough) Danny way, ol' mate goes to me, oh and I must make a point of this, as "boss", "champ", "big guy", "Brus"etc stops to engage an actual conversation I've already walked passed. See in big trade-men sites everyone you walk past you give them a quick stare use one of the mate based address's like "how ya goin big dawg?" but you don't actually ever stop to hear the answer and the other guys just asks the same question with a different bunch of words and you don't answer him either, you seriously spend most of your day passing other blokes trying to keep your acknowledgement/addressing's fresh and different, as I write this i realise how fucking weird that is haha. Sorry carried away again. Ol' mate goes to me "saw ya on that flight?/!" I reply "oh yeah, she's a fucken long one to still be in the same cuntree hey?/!", "yeah it is, lucky for you looked like you were getting INTO THAT OL' NUN"... And this is where the shameful reply came. Before I let this out I just want to let my mum, maybe some older family member ie aunts and such and also any girl I'm slowly developing a online presence with, you know liking a couple photos on ya insty then stepping up to a comment here or there clasping at any straw of humour to share a skerrick of common ground, something..anything that will warrant a facebook add, then from there conversation in chat where we both use google and dictionaries to make ourselves seem smatter and more worldly than our australian hickish selfs are then hey maybe that goes well maybe you're convinced I'm a decent enough guy and I'm convinced you're convinced so we get to phone messages maybe snap chat, things are going swimmingly you're thinking yeah this guy is a good egg. Well if your at that stage or are one of these people maybe don't read on or if you do, know that I said this out of adapting to my surroundings and not because these are thoughts or things I would say in any other environment. This is proof that you are a product of your enviroment. I replied "Yeah cunt, nuns are sluts"..... as soon as it left my mouth I knew I'd done wrong. I thought "wait a minute, isn't nun the antonym for slut?" but I was in darwin on a huge job site and ol' mate just says "yeah bro, they fucking love it" and we both carried off into the dank, damp gooch crucifying day that is my life. #sorrymum
Just quickly while you're already thinking I'm a douche. This only applies to males and possible lesbians with a thing for straight women. But how is it when you see a girl post something on facebook and you're thinking wait a minute i thought her last name was "......" and then it clicks that she has somewhere along the lines gotten married and you're first thought is oh shitty, there goes that. Well when you do think thoughts like that remember, god made us this way- conscious clear.
"yeah bro they love it"
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Otto "live" Powers
At work, 12 hours a day, my surroundings don't change. Every day is a reminder of the day prior and a prediction of what tomorrow holds. The mundane brain kill I put myself through everyday is like a construction ground hog day, but unlike Phil Connors no matter how well I treat people this cycle continues. Out of work, back at camp, things aren't to much better. I get home go straight for dinner, come back to my room for a shower then into bed for 2 hrs of trawling Facebook and instagram thinking of funny ways to criticise people, mainly out of jealousy but also cause..... I'm jealous.
One of the funner times I've been having lately is on my bus ride home. Out those big bay windows the top end is in full flight. Australian bogan culture is rich and crowned king of the land. On any given day it's not weird for me to look out the window at the lights and see a couple blokes having a sculling comp with tallies.... while driving. The natural gas industry has gone and given some of the worlds most stupid people a shit ton of money and they are smoking, drinking and impregnating what ever they can.
Our bus drivers change from trip to trip, somehow though lately I've been scoring the same dude. This guy is a modern day Otto with Kenny Powers dress sense. So yes, he is everything cool embodied in one single human being. For the last couple of trips I've pretty much just been impressed with his ability to play pretty bad ass 80/90's music consistently and at such a loud volume that most everyone on the bus hates him, but he gives no fuck to that, it's his ride and he'll bump what ever he wants. Today though, today he shone. It was like any other day, we were cruising along at a medium pace O.P. Had his black leather boots on, blacked out speed dealer sunnies on and although I'm to intimidated to check closely, what looks to be a pounamu necklace (the ones that are like green hook looking things that are sold in every place thats remotely New Zealandish) Anyway he was chillin' pumping the toons (his spelling not mine) and out of no where, as it does in the top end a massive storm rolled in. This shit was heavy, lads on the bus had their phones out filming just how little you could see ahead, I was in the front row just over O.Ps shoulder and i could not see a single white line, side of road or brake light ahead it was black out... Did he take his shades off to see better NO did he pull to the side of the road or even slow the pace a little NO O.T. reached for his ipod that was currently pumping alien ant farm and I kid you not he quickly clicked his way to "rain mix" playlist on the pod. For the following 10 minutes of black out death ride while everyone on the bus shit themselves and sent out final messages to loved ones, O.T. sang at the top of his voice the following 3 songs, with the first song being repeated twice while he safely and possibly unknowingly drove us to our destination. Live - Lighting Crashes, The Who - Love reign o'er me and The Doors - Riders on the storm. It was fucked up and I found misfortune and a deep sense of self disappointment in the fact that going about my life the way I am I will never amount to half the human O.T. is.
I know I missed a Friday Phrase but today at lunch I heard this conversation, not the best but still piss funny (be sure to read in your most occa accent and read "fucking" the way i spell it that will help get the accent)
"you been to that new maccas?"
"nup, you?"
''yeah"
"howzit?"
"fharrken fancy as fhuck"
"yeah?''
"yeah fharrken cafe and shit"
"fhuck that'll bring in the poofs"
"cunts"
One of the funner times I've been having lately is on my bus ride home. Out those big bay windows the top end is in full flight. Australian bogan culture is rich and crowned king of the land. On any given day it's not weird for me to look out the window at the lights and see a couple blokes having a sculling comp with tallies.... while driving. The natural gas industry has gone and given some of the worlds most stupid people a shit ton of money and they are smoking, drinking and impregnating what ever they can.
Our bus drivers change from trip to trip, somehow though lately I've been scoring the same dude. This guy is a modern day Otto with Kenny Powers dress sense. So yes, he is everything cool embodied in one single human being. For the last couple of trips I've pretty much just been impressed with his ability to play pretty bad ass 80/90's music consistently and at such a loud volume that most everyone on the bus hates him, but he gives no fuck to that, it's his ride and he'll bump what ever he wants. Today though, today he shone. It was like any other day, we were cruising along at a medium pace O.P. Had his black leather boots on, blacked out speed dealer sunnies on and although I'm to intimidated to check closely, what looks to be a pounamu necklace (the ones that are like green hook looking things that are sold in every place thats remotely New Zealandish) Anyway he was chillin' pumping the toons (his spelling not mine) and out of no where, as it does in the top end a massive storm rolled in. This shit was heavy, lads on the bus had their phones out filming just how little you could see ahead, I was in the front row just over O.Ps shoulder and i could not see a single white line, side of road or brake light ahead it was black out... Did he take his shades off to see better NO did he pull to the side of the road or even slow the pace a little NO O.T. reached for his ipod that was currently pumping alien ant farm and I kid you not he quickly clicked his way to "rain mix" playlist on the pod. For the following 10 minutes of black out death ride while everyone on the bus shit themselves and sent out final messages to loved ones, O.T. sang at the top of his voice the following 3 songs, with the first song being repeated twice while he safely and possibly unknowingly drove us to our destination. Live - Lighting Crashes, The Who - Love reign o'er me and The Doors - Riders on the storm. It was fucked up and I found misfortune and a deep sense of self disappointment in the fact that going about my life the way I am I will never amount to half the human O.T. is.
I know I missed a Friday Phrase but today at lunch I heard this conversation, not the best but still piss funny (be sure to read in your most occa accent and read "fucking" the way i spell it that will help get the accent)
"you been to that new maccas?"
"nup, you?"
''yeah"
"howzit?"
"fharrken fancy as fhuck"
"yeah?''
"yeah fharrken cafe and shit"
"fhuck that'll bring in the poofs"
"cunts"
Friday, March 7, 2014
Phrase Friday #2
Friday phrase this week comes at 3 in the morning, while some of us gather our nescafe blend 37 and others heads lay lifeless on the tables in front of them. At this time of the morning I'm still a good 4 hrs off properly waking up. The working day has just started and it's kicked of with a safety meeting, as always though safety among a bunch of ex/current ice addict divorcee red necks turns into a blame game and in the space of 5 minutes (03:05) there's a heated discussion about who has been stealing whose pies from the pie warmer. Lynn our cleaner (and all around nerdy pussy of the group) points his blame from behind the guard of our supervisor at Billy, the 8 foot 5 inch, biker looking concrete pump controller. If Billy is having a really good day and he's feeling mad happy vibes, he might grunt "fuck off" instead of throwing a apple at you if you try say hi to him. Billy's reply to the allegations and this fridays phrase... at 3 in the morning, straight faced "don't you eye ball me you twerp cleaning fucking faggot, I'll stab your face with a fork" no word of a lie, as Ghandi is my witness that was exactly what was said during a "safety" meeting at 3am monday morning.
So next time you're having a bad day, say a photo you thought was really good only got 15 likes or they put the mayo on your crunchy chicken bowl at the local sushi joint even though you clearly asked the 13 year old girl that works there and should be well on her way to being a professional at her job by now not to put the mayo on. When shit is going that bad, just remember you don't have a mundane job that makes stolen pies that you get given for free dont make you angry enough to want to stab some ones face with a fork (not the easiest utensil to sink through the skin) And think hey maybe I'm doing alright, I don't want to lodge this chop stick into that girls face, all i really want to do is find out why the powers that be keep making girls develop into large breasted porn star looking creatures at such young ages and make me question my moral fibre while im trying to stomach 3 litres of egg and rice vinger whipped together and dropped on my crispy chicken.
So next time you're having a bad day, say a photo you thought was really good only got 15 likes or they put the mayo on your crunchy chicken bowl at the local sushi joint even though you clearly asked the 13 year old girl that works there and should be well on her way to being a professional at her job by now not to put the mayo on. When shit is going that bad, just remember you don't have a mundane job that makes stolen pies that you get given for free dont make you angry enough to want to stab some ones face with a fork (not the easiest utensil to sink through the skin) And think hey maybe I'm doing alright, I don't want to lodge this chop stick into that girls face, all i really want to do is find out why the powers that be keep making girls develop into large breasted porn star looking creatures at such young ages and make me question my moral fibre while im trying to stomach 3 litres of egg and rice vinger whipped together and dropped on my crispy chicken.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Friday Phrase #1
On the subject of partying with girls, pertaining to who has seen girls go the wildest. A subject that was segued quite simply from favourite type of porn... Yup.
The person that said it was just walking passed and heard "girls used to go nuts on passion pop" and he thought he would inject this:
"You haven't seen sluts go crazy till you see a girl smoke rock after you have secretly dipped it in liquid fantasy, that's when they really go wild... some of the best nights (plural) of my life have been thanks to the rockstasy..."
No shit.
This is the league of gentlemen I spend 4 of every 5 weeks with. Fucking bosses!
The person that said it was just walking passed and heard "girls used to go nuts on passion pop" and he thought he would inject this:
"You haven't seen sluts go crazy till you see a girl smoke rock after you have secretly dipped it in liquid fantasy, that's when they really go wild... some of the best nights (plural) of my life have been thanks to the rockstasy..."
No shit.
This is the league of gentlemen I spend 4 of every 5 weeks with. Fucking bosses!
Monday, February 24, 2014
Bored lord
Back in this fly in fly out gig. Spending the very long 14 hours of work and travel a day thinking, external thoughts. In this industry/life style it's pretty simple to brain off/bank on. If I don't have these deep thoughts and imagine crazy things I feel my self getting dumber by the second. That's why I'm back on here, converting my boredom into pointless dribble and your boredom into criticism "have you seen that shit cody is writing on the internet, the dudes fucking lost the plot", "I heard he is doing a gynaecology degree by correspondence to make up for the lack of females where he is living", "yeah I heard that to, its defs the truth fo real", "che". < that's a conversation some of you will be having soon enough and I know it's hard to believe but you will use terms like "defs", "fo" and "che" the language just hasn't hit yet but I been searching all the top blogs and they are using that shit fo show.
I'm going to make every friday "friday phrase day" and put up my favourite construction dirt bag call for the week, or if I'm on break try get a good hip saying that I hear all the kids out there be droppin'. For instance yesterday on the bus I heard a 54 year old twice divorcee say to a man of similar ruin "have you ever seen the movie, the secret". Personally, I think that's maybe the funniest opening to a conversation those 2 men could ever have.
Just a quick whistle wetter this time, I'll put something with more substance and point next time, untill that day comes, keep your ear to the grind stone.
In closing....
This picture came up on google when I searched "best picture ever".. Googs, you're slippin' pal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)