Torn Adductors, Scrubs and Waiting.....
I was sitting here wondering what to do with my time, whilst I install Adobe Production Studio that I ripped off from some website. So what if I got $1500 worth of software for free, everybody's doing it. What if everybody was jumping off a cliff, would you do that too? What am I, and idiot? Of course I wouldn't. Why do people always ask that? As if you'd be dumb enough to purposely jump off a cliff, plumetting to your own death, just because someone else did it.

Anyway. Let me start off by saying one thing. Canadian chicks truly suck. I played my cards as I should have. I was nice to you, which believe me was a massive fucking stretch because I'm not nice to anyone. I asked you for your number straight out, and you gave it to me. So tell me, oh precious being, why did you not return my call? Oh that's right, you're a Canadian. Look at you! You're from Canadia! Aren't you just a special human being. Hope you get deported.

Much better!

Ok, on to the torn adductor. What is worse than tearing your right adductor whilst playing netball? Tearing it before the game by thinking you're Ronaldinho and "pretending" to kick a goal. Yeah, very Ronaldinho like. Only thing I was missing was the bucked teeth and the horse head. I really don't like that bloke. I think he's the spitting image of what you'd get if you put one through a horse, and knocked her up. Interesting birth to watch though. Is beastiality illegal in Australia? I've just had this massive brain wave. What if I could get someone like, say, James Hird to have "relations" with, oh, Makybe Diva? Obviously I'd have to pay the Dam fees, but it could work for my benefit. Usually a horse is ready to go at 2 years of age. So a Horman (half horse, half human) would probably be ready after 4. So..... wow! I'm going to write to Sheeds. This could seriously work. In 5 years time, Essendon could have a player that runs like a mother fucker and kicks the ball 100 metres. Not to mention it would have the ability to find space and creativity of Jim Hird, and live off grains, carrots and water. I am a genius.

Fuck. What time was my sister's plane landing? Ah fuck her, she can walk.

Kudos to Bigpond for slowing my internet to 64kbps for the last 4 hrs of the month. Really generous of you.

Back to the adductor. So my physio, who is new because the other one may or may not have been involved in some giant porn ring, is quite hot. She's 22 and just gone into practice. How did I find her? I dunno, I was referred? Who cares? Anyway, she tells me that a torn adductor is not a good injury. Fuck! You went to uni so you could tell me that? Next thing you're going to say is that R.I.C.E is the solution to the problem. It is? Fuck me! No, seriously, would you?

Ok, so maybe she was right. I can walk on it. The crutches have been thrown away and I can almost jog. Woohoo! I hope she won't mind too much if I play netball again this Sunday. Its ok. Really. I only feel a little bit of pain if I, ah, move it, but I'll be sweet.

Did I mention I was going to all THREE Pearl Jam concerts? No. Well I am. So add another concert to the second week of November on the 16th. Party, Party, Party!

Going to the races on Saturday, which will obviously give the opportunity to post some ludicrous story on Sunday or whenever I can be fucked. You should look forward to that. In the meantime I'm going to watch the 4th season of Scrubs (the 3rd was great, with some really sad moments). Also, Dr Cox's missus is fucking hot for an older woman. I would gladly be her doona buddy.

I'm also holding auditions for a new Doona Buddy this coming Friday. If you're interested you can contact me in a really creative way. So get thinking.

Remember, unless you're my friend, you're possibly a terrorist.

Me Me Meee Mee Me.

Pearl Jam.... November 13 and 14.
I've had a few days to ponder how truly excited I am that Pearl Jam are finally coming back to Melbourne. Not since the Dave Matthews Band concerts of 2005 have I been so overwhelmingly pumped to go to a concert. Yipee.

But lets have a constructive look at the month of November, and the disaster it may well be shaping to become.

Friday, November 3rd - My first day of annual leave. This day will be spent at the gym and will include some Pilates and Yoga. I will also need to have a meditation session at some stage. Today will be the last time I have to mentally prepare myself, for what my body is about to endure.

Saturday, November 4th : Derby Day - Yum. This is the best day of the Spring Carnival. 120,000 people crammed into Flemington (most of them in the Pleb area... haha) enjoying the festivities. I intend to be spending this one in either the Rails or the Nursery. Regardless of where I am, alcohol will be consumed, money won, and an all round good time had. Yay for Derby Day.

Tuesday, November 7th : Cup Day - By Tuesday, the Hangover that will be my only memory of Derby Day will have subsided. Liver Punishment # 2 (insert cool name here) will begin at approximately 9:30am. Much like Derby day, the day will be spent in the Nursery or the Rails. There may be some "stealth" missions whereby I sneak into the Birdcage, however that will be determined at a later date. Alcohol will be present, and I will again tip the winner of the Cup. I am a hero.

Thursday, November 9th : Oaks Day - Dubbed by many as "blokes" day due to the plethora of stunners on display, I refer to Oaks Day as "Tits Ooot Thursday". There will be boobs, booze and a lot of perving. That is unless between now and then I find myself in a relationship. Then there will, of course, be no perving...... honest. By Thursday, its not about backing winners. My liver won't be giving a fuck how much I win. He'll be too worried about screaming out for more alcohol, the only thing that will be keeping it as a functioning organ. If I don't die on Tits Ooot Thursday, then I will be immortal after all.

Friday, November 10th - I will either be checking myself out of hospital or having a mate post bail.

Saturday, November 11th : Emirate Stakes - The day I will most likely get myself into the most trouble. Family Day. That means there will be girls under 18. And seriously, sometimes I have issues making the distinction between legal, and not legal. This isn't my fault. I just get a little inebriated, and then girls look older. Last year, well... nevermind. Thankfully on Stakes Day, if you are over 18 you have to wear a wristband. This is a new initiative which I think is incredibly important. We can't be having underage people getting drunk. That would be wrong. Someone PLEASE think of the children. Oh yeah, I'll be drunk and prolly will lose my wallet. There will be a pause for Rememberance.

Sunday, November 12th - If I wake up on this day, I haven't worked hard enough over the previous 7 days.

Monday, November 13th : Pearl Jam - Rod Laver Arena, 15,000 screaming fans.... and Ed.

Tuesday, November 14th : Pearl Jam - Reprise - See Above. Add to this the fact that I will be so pumped from the night before. My ex is coming to this concert with me...

So that's the month thus far. Then there's the fact that U2 will be announcing (very shortly) the dates of the Aussie Tour. Given that I am in possession of tickets to both concerts.... this month could get really messy.

Another update - went out for drinks on Friday night after work. Spoke to Canadian waitress who is a flirty little thing. She still hasn't called, so I think I'm crossing this one off my list. She's too much effort for my liking.

Apologies to the umpire (Avon or Hendrie, not sure) at the footy today too. When I called you an inbred c*nt who would be hated by his own AIDS riddled boyfriend, I may have been a little bit out of line. Of course his boyfriend loves him.

Fuck it, I'm going to bed.

Free Tibet.

Showgirls... Absolutely Frightening.
So maybe I did take today off because I was incredibly frustrated with work. To teach those who work for me a greater work ethic, and what its like to have to do things on your own occasionally. Or maybe I took today off so I could purchase tickets to Pearl Jam. Or maybe I took today off to watch Showgirls? You know, that movie with the chick from Saved By the Bell that Slater was going out with. Ha ha, Slater.

Anyway to the important news! I am going to Pearl Jam. Yup. Jealous? You should be!

Now, Showgirls. I just happened to stumble across this one, whilst surfing through the movie channels on Foxtel on this brilliant afternoon. Now if I tried to go into great detail about the plot and theme of the movie, I would fail. All I know is, some chick who WAS a stripper (SBtB chick) decides to go and work at a place called StarDust in Vegas. Apparently this is a big step, because rather than starting with clothes on, and getting her tits oot, she just has her tits oot all the time. I can see the obvious difference.

Anyway, something happens and she gets to be the lead in the show after she pushes the other lead down the stairs, and her best friend gets gang banged by a rock star and his mates. I am not entirely sure of the relevance the latter has, but fuck it, it added to the story line. Anyway, lead chick fucks some bloke that works at StarDust too, and she isn't really who she says she is or something. To be honest, its very difficult to be aware of the exact story line when there are so many pairs of boobs on the screen. I am actually not entirely sure if there even is a fucking story line. But the boobs and lez action placed strategically throughout the movie, more than make up for it.

Now there's boats on the screen. I'm not sure what softcore porn and boats are doing in the same movie (note: Pam and Tommy's movie was Hardcore, and I can understand the necessity for boats in that instance), however I am going to allow it at this time.

I'm keen to know how this titty flick finishes, but to be honest I don't care. As long as there are tits oot until the end, I have a feeling this movie will sustain its raiting of 2 nipples up.

Toll Priority? Pfft.. More like Toll Whenever We Damn Feel Like It!
People out that that actually know me, and I mean know know me, will understand that I can have a tendancy to get a little bit angry or, agitated at times. This has nothing to do with the irritating personalities of everyone around me, but is more based on the high level of incompetence shown by most people in my life. From football umpires to work employees, incompetence is rife!

Until today, it'd been a few weeks since I'd really lost my temper. By "really lost my temper" I don't mean the occasional grunt on a netball court as a result of my own incompetence, but an actual brain explosion causing me to "go postal" or feel the need to take part in a multiple homicide. Today however, I dealt with a moron so incompetent, I'm convinced I am stupider having spoken with them.

Tina** is an employee for Toll Priority. I think I have spoken to her once or twice before, which means part of the blame in this particular situation is on my good self. Anyway! I had to speak to Tina, as I need to speak to many Toll Priority employees on a regular basis (Catch my Drift?), in regards to the whereabouts of some important equipment going to a Caltex site in Western Australia. I might also jump in here and say I currently have 4 outstanding packages sent with Toll Priority in early April. As yet, the site haven't seen them. Below is a transcript of my conversation with Tina.

Me: Hello Tina, it's David from ****** *********. I was hoping you could assist me in the tracking of a consignment number please.
Tina: Hi David. What was the consignment number you were chasing?
Me: alpha foxtrot quebec whisky 1 2 juliet uniform 0 charlie.
Tina: Ok. Give me a moment while I look that one up. Where was the package headed?
Me: Bussellton, WA.
Tina: Hmm.
Me: Hmmm?
Tina: It appears the parcel may have been delivered. Did you say MacKay QLD?
Me: No, but you're close. I said Bussellton, WA. You know, about 4000km south-west of MacKay.
Tina: Are you sure? My arrival destination said MacKay.
Me: Well my client is in Bussellton, but I have no doubt there are several service stations in MacKay as well.
Tina: Let me see what happened here.
***I was then placed on hold for 7 minutes - no music, just background noise***
Tina: Hi, sorry about the wait. It appears the person packing the track may have put it on the MacKay pallet.
Me: Why would they do that?
Tina: The notes say that the packer believed there was no ***** Road in Bussellton, but there is one in MacKay.
****This may have been the exact moment my brain haemorrhaged****
Me: (Silence)
Tina: Are you there?
Me: (Silence)
Tina: Hello? David?
Me: Sorry I was just doing the math.
Tina: Oh. There was no math involved. He just thought....
Me: Well clearly he thought wrong. Did he happen to think for one fucking second that maybe the address on the consignment note attached to the fucking parcel may have been where it was meant to go? Since when do people who stack trucks use, or even fucking have, any sort of initiative. I don't know what fucking corkies you are hiring down there, but maybe you should review your hiring policy.
Tina: He believed he was doing the right thing. I really don't think you....
Me: Oh so he believed now? My cousin believes in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fucking Fairy, but that doesn't mean any of those actually fucking exist now does it? Jesus Christ, who is working there, Forrest Gump? Why didn't anyone query what he was doing.
Tina: If you calm down I can tell you that I have arranged to re-send the package to the correct address, it should get there Monday.
Me: Where did you say you worked again?
Tina: Toll Priority.
Me: Exactly. So tell me, today is Wednesday, how is getting it there on Monday a FUCKING PRIORITY? I paid hundreds of dollars for this for NEXT DAY, and you send it to fucking MacKay, because Forrest Gump thinks that's where it should go. You know what, fuck it. Leave the package in fucking MacKay. I will get someone up there to strap it to a fucking tortoise and it will get where I need it to before you bunch of spastics can get it there.
***I'm fairly confident the conversation ended about here***

Funnily enough, Toll are probably the best at what they do. But that's like being the smartest kid with Down Syndrome.

Anyway, I need a lie down, reliving that was torture.

**Tina was not her real name. I changed it so I can't be blamed for her impending suicide.

VRC Young Members Day - Saturday May 6th 2006
Ok, so I fully expected to be able to write this one sooner, however I lacked 2 very important things. The first is the ability to see or type, and the second is some form of recollection of the day itself. It has, however, all come back to me in a flood of good, as well as not so good, memories.

I've always said that a truly spendid day requires three things, known as the BFG's. B is for Booze, a mood enhancer with origins dating back over 6000 years to the Sumarians. Apparently they quickly realised how pissed it gets you, and Beer quickly became to be considered very precious. As it is today! Anyway, I seriously think I am drifting off course here, but who can blame me, IT'S BEER.

Editors Note : Don't have your fucking MSN open when you are trying to write a blog. It seriously hampers your fucking ability to put your thoughts into words, and quickly makes you want to punch the people that keep fucking bugging you.

The F is for Fillies, and I don't mean of the Horse variety. There's something special about the female variety. Whether it be that cute, innocent smile, or maybe their eyes. Whatever it is, I love it. And I'm single, so if you're cute ...

The G, well it isn't for G-Bangers or Go-Go Dancers, but instead stands for GAMBLING. I consider myself to be quite the Punter. Actually most people I work with do too, because they call me Punter. I originally thought it was because of my boyish good looks, much like Ricky Ponting, of the same nickname. When questioning their choice of nickname, it came about that it was a result of my constant discussion of sport and gambling, and telling them how much I win every week. To be honest, I don't see it.

Ok, so I've defined the 3 important aspects of a great/splendid day. Lets get to the juiciness of what happened on Saturday. Beer was consumed, and was consumed in small amounts. And by small amounts, I mean copious. I'm not a massive Toohey's New fan either, but to be honest I was so inebriated by 12 noon, it didn't matter.

The Gambling was good. Dr Nipandtuck and Victory Sweep did me proud early on, and I was up in excess of Two Hungie nice and early. The day was looking like a winner. Of course, streaks don't last forever and eventually I had to give my bookie back a few dollars here and there. But life goes on! I mean, what's a few bucks! The day ended up being paid for, so I really couldn't care less. And I was drunk!

Which leads me to the Fillies. Mmmmm. They were plentiful. I think I spoke to people I went to school with, paid out on the mingers entered into the fashion contest, and spoke to many lovely ladies throughout the day. To be honest, I cannot remember every single encounter, but I do recall the day to be aesthetically pleasing. Apropos, did I mention I am single? Just think, you too can enjoy these days ladies!

I think I caught the train from Flemo to Flinders, and I'm sure Wes could confirm this. I also assume I purchased Band Aids for my ankles at some stage, because I woke up with about 4 on each ankle as well as 60 spare ones in my suit pocket. Did I mention earlier I really enjoy wearing suits? It makes working worthwhile. I also came home with a pack of Nurofen, so I may or may not have had a headache. Anyway....

Jad and I went to the footy. It's a long walk to the 'G when you've enjoyed a few quiet beers. It's also a little bit difficult to climb up numerous steps. We also took this opportunity to talk about important political and social issues, such as how hot Krystal from Big Brother is. I won't go into the match in too much detail, because it was pretty shattering. Memo to Tim Watson: Please teach Jobe how to kick.

From the footy, we ventured to Kitten Club. Now let me jump in right here and express my disappointment with this place. In my physical and mental state of this evening, I was convinced Kitten Club was a place that would be fun, involve dancing, and other stuff. This was not the case. They did however, happily supply me with Absinth which definitely gave me new perspective of life. I don't recall much from Kitten Club, apart from a chance meeting with a Geelong Footballer. I think he had eaten a Whizz Fizz.

Ooooohh! The Elephant and the Wheelbarrow was rocking! Penny... blonde, cute and an English Beer Wench! What more could a guy want? Lexi.... not blonde, but weren't you a fit little thing? Did I give you my card? Call me! I'm Single!

Anyway, I think I went to crown, screamed at a croupier for being a rude bitch (while Jad was sleeping somewhere on a seat) and then got a taxi home at about 6:30. There is about 2 hrs of unknown that has occurred but I think it was all above board.

Beertopia next Saturday.

Coming Soon..... VRC Young Members Day
Saturday May 6th is the 2nd Young Members Day for 2006. Be prepared for the results, coming to this Blog on Sunday!

Jeffrey to Return?
Ding Dong Doyle is gawn, and big bad Jeffrey is interested in a return.

Is this the second coming I've been waiting and praying for? Time will tell.....

She's Not Messing With What Now?

Sometimes a song comes along that makes you think to yourself, "That is some meaningful shit!" Unfortunately that sort of comment is limited to a small selection of bands who actually have talent.

band (n) - a group of musical individuals that play music and sing songs for an audience. Each inidividual must bring something to the group of musicians, in that they play an instrument or can sing. A "band" does not describe a group of people manufactured and formed as one, because they look, sound and act in a homosexual nature. That is a group.

But back on topic. There appears to have been a massive increase in "rap crap" and other music of similar nature popping up on the radio these days. This is reaching pandemic proportions, as is somewhat worrying to real music lovers.

Kanye West is one of these individuals ruining the music industry, bringing such intellectual lyrics to us as "get down girl go head get down". Australian Radio is full of the tripe that he, and many others like him produce, making it near impossible for "real" artists to get any sort of air play. But that's ok, Triple J will save us. BABOW! Not true. I recall one Kanye West hit (and I am pissing myself laughing as I wrote hit!) titled Golddigger, making the top 20 of Triple J's Hottest 100. Ah yes.... Golddigger. What a song.

Does anyone actually know what this song is about? Ok, well he's talking about some chick he totally digged, or dug (I'm really new at this whack shit), and how she screwed him over. Or he's talking about the collective group of women around the world, who he believes he's had relations with, that have screwed him over. Or maybe its about a woman who was hired in the gold mines ahead of him (which would make sense, I doubt his CV would be much chop). Anyway, I understand its about chicks. I also understand that he needed Ray Charles or Jamie Foxx or WHOEVER to sell the song, because without it, the song had little going for it.

Ok, so I'm not a massive Kanye fan. When I found out he was supporting U2 I freaked. I'm talking "Packing heat, loading up a sniper rifle, and taking him out" freaked. But with the help of my mate Dubya, I grew to accept the idea. Lets get back to the real issue though.

In a world where political correctness is becoming a more pressing issue, the song had to be edited for radio. I'm all for that, except in the case of Green Day's Jesus of Suburbia, which should be played loud, proud and include full obscenities. We don't need those sort of words being bandied around the radio as though they are acceptable. Segregation was a very bad thing, and that's only scratching the surface. But Kanye, if you edit a song for radio, its gotta make sense.

But she aint messing with no broke, broke.

What the fuck? What is a BROKE BROKE? I sat there and played it over and over and over again ad nauseum in my head, and still I don't understand what the fuck a Broke Broke is. It sounds like something my 2 year old cousin would say after breaking a toy. Broke Broke. Worst of all, people get sucked in by it. If I hear anyone use the term Broke Broke out in the street, I will fair dinkum pop a cap in their ass. Kanye could at least have the decency to replace it with something else. Record another version radio friendly. Hell, even Eminem records copies of his music so Haley Jade can listen to it.

Broke Broke. What was wrong with Broke Fellaz, Broke Brothaz, Broke Wall Street Brokers for all I give a fuck. Take a leaf out of the book of James. Who? James! You know, the guy that sings that Laid song from all the American Pie movies? Yeah you do... think about it! This bed is on fire with passionate love, the neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she's on top. That song. Well have you heard the radio version of that song? They replace comes with sings. See... IT MAKES SENSE! Although it achieves little, because I still know what they mean. The song is called LAID people.

Anyway I think my point has been made. Pearl Jam Rocks, Dave Matthews Band are fantastic, and Kanye West likes the cock.

OOT!