Oy.

I've just been hit with a wave of despondency. Here I am, checking my email on a Monday morning. I should reply to my sister, but i don't feel like it. My movie group people are attempting to organise certain nights, one to see the Constant Gardener (which I have no interest in seeing, as seemingly no one knows what it's actually about), and one to see a play (which costs $55 a ticket, which I can't and won't afford, but the rest of them can, have GOOD jobs and being older and richer than me). I wanted to see Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, but they planned it for a Friday when a) I had just gone with them on the Sunday to see Me, You, And Everyone We Know and had spent my movie money for the week, and b) on one of the few nights off I get to be with Tanja lately. I've also got a farewell at work this Friday that I don't really want to go to, a Christmas party on the 6th (at a fucking Bowls club, no less) which will be starting at 4pm, but which I and the other poor saps scheduled to work that night, won’t be able to get to until 11:30, by which time all the food will gone, and the people will have been weeded down to the few pissheads who are left at the end of every party. All this is not being helped by the fact that I’m reading John Birmingham’s “He Died With a Felafel In His Hand”, and I’m past the early funny parts, haven’t reached the funny ending, and am bogged down in the depressing middle, which is all about living with junkies and freaks and ferals. Fun times. Only not. I have stencils to cut for the vinyl art I want to make, but I can’t bring myself to start. I rented some movies: Unforgiven (which I told Bruce the Movie teacher that I’d watch and tell him what I thought), Biodome (which Tanja declared that she’d outgrown her like of after watching it last night. Duh :P), Life Aquatic (which was SO odd and not that interesting), Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (which looks like one of those films that require work and so I don’t have the energy for), and The Ladykillers (ditto). Ugh. And it’s raining. And I’m going to be at work until 11 again tonight wandering my section, surveying all the damage done by marauding teenagers, having no room to put out new stuff, and realizing that a cleanup would take the entire night, and if I did so and didn’t finish, I’d get the talk of “why are you starting tasks you can’t finish, Lucas?” from the boss. Also, there’s yet another drama with Tanja’s sister and her fucking knob of a boyfriend. I’m honestly at the point where my first response upon hearing there was a problem was “fuck ‘em.” because I didn’t have the energy to mediate and keep the peace like I always do. Not to mention that the only way I get Christmas Eve off (when Tanja’s folks have their festivities) is if I work a 10:30 to 6 am on the 23rd. You see, Borders has decided that we’re going to be open from 9 am the 23rd to 6pm the 24th. You know, to catch all the folks who turn up at 4 am Christmas Eve wanting a John Steinbeck novel. If I don’t work the night, I’ll be working till 11pm the 23rd, and then til 6 the 24th. Since it takes 2 hours or so to get to Tanja’s folks’ place, that won’t do. The holiday season, ladies and gentlemen. Bring your wallets.

I need more coffee.

"Yokels! Rubes! You don't understand true art!"

I bought season 1 of the Muppet Show yesterday. *sigh* Takes me right back. Animal and Gonza are still my favourites (well, them and Crazy Harry, but he's more of a recurring cameo who blows things up. You know, like Craig). The only difference is now, as an adult (sort of) I get Gonzo more as a true artist. I mean, come on. He ate a tire to "Flight of the Bumblebee", he grew a tomato plant while playing the 1812 Overture on the violin, he even smashed an antique car with a mallet to "the Anvil Chorus".

However, his crowning moment, his shining star of purist artistry, was when he took on Scooter as a manager, who suggested Gonzo's "rock act" to Kermit.

Kermit: "But Gonzo doesn't sing."
Scooter: "No, no, a rock act. Show him, Gonzo."
Gonzo: "Ok. Watch." *he lifts a big rock onto the table, and readies his mallet*
Scooter: "Right! Hit it, kid!"
*Gonzo: *Hauls off and wallops the rock* ART! *wham!* ART! *wham* ART! *wham!* AAAART!"

Bwa ha ha. I feel an Electric Mayhem T-shirt coming on.

Halloween Pictures

My decorations! part 1


My decorations! part 2


Shaun of the Dead triumphant! I shall smite thee with my tiny cricket bat!


Tanja with newly pink, newly spiky hair.


Ted and Catherine as the White Stripes. Ye gods.


Party poppers ahoy.


Craig as Death. Slaying hats. And stuff.


CraigDeath borrows my Crow mask and proceeds to look rather creepy.


Apparantly, CreepyCraigDeath loves the Metal. Meh-Taahhhl!


Tanja, masked and clawed. Kinda cute, not too scary.


Catherine, surprised, through green streamers.


Lucas/Shaun, smirking, through green streamers.


CraigDeath as Boy George. Possibly scarier than the Crow mask.


Ted, your mascara is running a little.


Clash of the Titans. Axe beats scythe!


Ted, eerily resembling Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer of Green Day.


Ted showing off his birthday present that he finally picked up. Evidently he was pleased. I think.


My Bat-Lamp!


Bat-Lamp, part 2


"I'll cut me! I'll do it! I'll cut my ass!" Craig threatening vehemently, if not wisely.


The natural view of our apartment. Yep. Through a glass.

Update. Post. Thing.

They just proved on Mythbusters that if you're under 6 feet of water, your enemies can fire a .50 cal at you and you won't get hit. The speed decrease actually causes the bullet to disintergrate from the pressure. Good to know. I have a lot of enemies.

Tanja and I were walking in the city, and Tanja spotted a woman who was... gifted. In the chest area. And her comment to me?

"Goddang, you see the size of them things?"

THAT'S my girl.

Oh, and the Magic Dirt concert went great. I learned a new band (the Fuzz), and confirmed that I liked two bands (Magic Dirt and the Spazzys), and Tanja survived a great deal of noise. Good for her. and she even admitted to liking the music. I'll corrupt her yet.

Halloween was fun. You know, except that only ONE Borders person turned up. Out of the TWENTY I invited. Craig, Ted and Catherine showed up, all costumed (Ted and Meg as the White Stripes, opposite genders I.E. Ted was Meg and Catherine was Jack. Fun freakin' times). We watched Army of Darkness, Shaun of the Dead and The Mummy (at Tanja insistence). We didn't go out to the bars, but fun nevertheless. Pictures forthcoming.

Special Editions.

Bloody special editions. Usually, in Australia, the Special edition of a CD is sold in the first 3 weeks of an album being released. It's usually a few bucks more than the regular and often has a nicer case and a DVD attached. After the 3 weeks go by, they stop producing the fancy ones. of course, why should things make sense like that. The Cat Empire, 6 months after they released Two Shoes, decided to release a special DVD-included edition. I saw the poster yesterday and got mad. Those of us who are fans have already bought the damned album. Why would we pay another $35 for the special one? So I check out the website to see what's the what, and it turns out they were thinking of us after all:

"For those fans who have already bought Two Shoes, we are offering you the opportunity to just buy the dvd. The dvd comes in a heavy quality cardboard slipcase, with full cd art. It is a 70 min dvd featuring live show footage of Lullaby and The Car Song (filmed at The Forum Melbourne), a documentary of the making of the album in Cuba, the original video clips from the album, and behind the scenes of The Cat Empire Two Shoes video clip shoot."

and it's only $10! Hooray!

Shenanigans.

Argh. i'm sick. I have a stupid cold. Which is worse than a smart cold.

My Flogging Molly CD ran out of tracks, and the stereoo switched over to Tanja's Aqua album. I'm too lazy to go change it.

Ok, next few weeks will be busy ones. Well, ok, just the week after next. For shenanigans have been planned!

(have decided just now to burn CD of Crystal method, Lemon Jelly, and Beastie Boys remixes to combat Tanja's Aqua)

October 28th: I drag Tanja to go see Magic Dirt and the Spazzys at the Metro Theatre, after convincing her that yes, it will be fun, and no, these bands aren't way too loud. Hurrah for persuasion!

(CD finished. Playing "Acetone" and annoying neighbours)

October 29th: Halloween Shenanigans! Yes, ok, I know it's not actually going to be ON Halloween, but Halloween is on a Monday, damnit. I put up a poster at work, to let people know about the arrive-at-our-place-watch-cheesy-films-while-drinking-then-hit-the-town-thing. Was told by doom-and-gloom Assitant manager that apparantly, American music boss is having yearly Halloween party on same night, and that no one would come to mine. Bint. Spoke to American music boss, who said that he gets like 5 work people out of everyone he invited, but if the people at mine want to swing by his later, the more the merrier. Very decent of him, no sarcasm at all. Yes. So that is the plan. People arrive here. Watch film. Drink heavily. Get costumed. Go to this guy's party. Apparantly his theme this year is "come dressed as a song (and you're not allowed to come as Nirvana's 'Come as you are'. Heh)". Craig, you could be "Don't Fear The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult, or "Crimson Ghost" by the Misfits. Ted (if he wants to be a pirate again)can be the "Last Saskatchewan Pirate" by the Arrogant Worms. Catherine can be... Well... Catherine. By PJ Harvey. Or whatever. I don't know. Do I have to do all the thinking around here?

October 30th: Plan to be hungover.

"Gut spasms. Hmm."

Tanja is sick. And she's going through a medical dictionary looking for symptoms she can relate too, and make her condition sound worse.

"Do you ever wake up tired in the morning?"
"Oh my God, write this down, whatever it is, I have it."

Sympathy monger. :P

Life.... Don't Talk To Me About Life.

I bought the new Hitchhikers movie. Despite everyone at work telling me, once I had explained that I was excited it was coming out, that they "didn't really care for it" or "didn't see it and didn't read the books" or in one case "won tickets to the premiere and walked out because I was bored." And I got a towel with it (thanks to the good folks at EZyDVD). And I snorted when they were attacked by the idea-fly-swatters. Again.

"Wait! I have an ide-" *THWAP!*

Heh.

Now I'm off to get my hair cut at some posh place Tanja goes to.

Note: Music Not Performed By Original Artist

(reposted from the WD, minus BOQ, for those poeple who don't go there)

It's a well-known and much-mocked fact that people who live or work in close proximity to music end up with odd fetish-style interests in odd fetish-style things, often young men whose interest in music becomes more whimsical than technical or preferential. See High Fidelity for the tame examples. Other such examples: a football player who specializes in girl groups from the 1960s; an accountancy student who obsesses on Hawaiian surf guitar; a sociology dropout who works in a bookstore and is trying to assemble the complete K-Tel library from 1972 to 1976; An dreadlocked environmentalist looking for de-motivating spoken-word recordings; you get the picture.

Anyway, my obsession has been revealed.

I, Lucas, have a problem.

It's cover songs.

I love them.

I've got nearly the whole albums of Nevermind the Originals, Here's the Covers and In Their Eyes: 80s Teen Movies vs. 90s Teen Bands downloaded, Paul Anka's Rock Swings! album, as much Richard Cheese & Lounge Against the Machine and Me First & the Gimme Gimmes as I can, as well as odd live ones or soundtrack one-offs and B-sides. And I've been ogling and protecting (read: hiding it from customers) the Triple M Musical Challenge 3 and Triple J: Like a Version CDs. The rough idea for both is that a band or artist comes into the show and are asked to perform a song that they don't really know all that well, that's not from their style, in a new way. It's interesting as hell, well at least for me.

So I bought the Triple M cd. And it's bloody fantastic.

*ahem*

Things I Did Today
by Lucas

1. Bought Thank You, a Stone Temple Pilots compilation at Hum Records. I wanted to get Tiny Music: Song from the Vatican Gift Shop (as this was the album I had taped from my cousin Dan in the 9th grade that turned me onto STP), but they were sold out. So I got this for 10 bucks. Turns out, whether by name or not, I know EVERY song on it. Yikes. This hasn't happened since Big Shiny 90s. And it's not a bad thing. It�s a good thing. Like swimming in your own soylent waste. (Bally! Craig! Ted! You must get that or I'm going to look weird! Er!)

2. Watched Rear Window. Very cool. There's good reason for it being a classic, Simpsons parody notwithstanding. Although, admittedly, I had to resist the urge to call out "I'm a MUR-DIDDLY-URDERER!" at one point. I also remembered (also from 9th grade) two of my classmates who, after we watched It's a Wonderful Life in class, continually referred to Jimmy Stewart as "ol' Jimmy" and talked like he lived down the block from them. "How you doin'?" "I'm good, you?" "Good. You?" "I'm good. Can't say the same for ol' Jimmy, though." "Ohhh, poor Jimmy. He's a character." etc.

3. Finished the book The Historian. Jeez that last few chapter stretched out. If they were going to go and talk to one more old cryptic monk, I was going to plotz.

4. Made this shirt.


In your face Mylo! And also Australian Idol! And no, the shirt is not yellow. It's off-white, it's just the picture.

If I was a rich boy... lalalalalalalaaaaa....

I would have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy boooooooy...

Well, you recall my being horribly pissed off by having to pay $50 for my taxes after I was expecting a big payout? Well, Tanja called me at work yesterday to explain that I got a letter from the IRS-equivalent (or would it be an IRS-Compatible? An IRS-Clone?) that said I get $390. Yes! Go free money! In your face, world that usually takes money away from me! First thing I did was pick up the Hitchcock mvoies I need for my film course (you all know about that, right? My Essential Films course at the University? Where I get an excuse to watch movies and give my uneducated opinion to my classmates? We did Film Noir last week, and this week is Hitchcock. We're doing Rear Window, Vertigo and Psycho this Monday. I'm watching Falling Down at the moment, which isn't on the course, but should be, during the week we do Apocalypse Now and Taxi Driver. It'd fit).

Tanja and I went to a birthday party in Darlington for her friend Chantal. It was a superhero fancy-dress thing. I did myself up a Superboy T-shirt (maroon on black) along with studded belt, boots and leather pants, proclaiming myself Superman after he got tired of saving people, got pissed off, really let himself go, and moved to Sin City. There was a more traditional Superman there (in an impressive outfit, cape, briefs and everything), but a guy dressed as The Punisher (the Thomas Jane Punisher, not the Dolph Lundgren Punisher, as he had the skull and didn't sit naked in the sewers talking to himself. I asked.) told me that I was the Superman he'd trust because while the other guy might save him, I'd be sure to beat the shit out of the bad guy. Heh. Tanja was a female Zorro (Zorette? Zorrina? Zorra?) in my black Stetson, mask and a plastic foil. The foil had a bit of chalk on the end, so she could mark things with a Zed. She did too. Doors, bus stops, me, our hostess (in her Wonder Woman outfit too. The Z looked incongrous on the backside of a pair of star-spangled daisy dukes). other luminaries at the party were SuperElmo (girl in red woolly jumper, with a billowy bedsheet), Preacher AKA Captain Pedophile, Cocaine Man (Spangly white cape, white clothes, red briefs who kept bringing us shots of Sambuca), a Lara Croft, a Catwoman, and a couple of Dread Pirate Roberts. Also, Punisher and Normal Superman were both comic nuts, so I got to swing into full geek mode and shoot the shit about whether Ultimate Spiderman WAS the best writing, and if Salvador Larroca was overrated. They were impressed I had Gambit gloves. :) Fun times had by all. Reminds me that Halloween is coming soon. Hooray!

Oh, and we've got a new girl at work, so hopefully fewer closing shifts coming my way.

Leela! Save me! And yourself, I guess! And my banjo! And Fry!

I've decided I'm not going to buy the Futurama Monster Robot Maniac Fun Pack. I read the back while at work, and it doesn't really have enough going for it (ONE commentary only!) to stand up as a new thing in its own right apart from the boxsets.

Also 6 new Insprites. (I'm sorry Craig! It's just that if I chose you, I had three times as much material!)

Hot Damn!

Oh, and four new InSprites. I figure if I'm pimping the bloody thing, there should be something new.

Oh, and...

...I've decided to reformat InSprite into a blog. No real reason, it's just that I HATE FTPing. Heavily. Hate it.

So here: Go see. Nothing new, but I haven't looked at some of those old ones in a while, and jeepers. The first few don't really hold up under scrutiny.

A new chapter, sort of.

I've been meaning to make this post for like five days, but life kept getting in the way. Well, I say life. I mean work. Anyway.

I read an article in the paper about Experimental travel, and loved the idea immensely. The soul and centre of it is that you travel (or walk or pub crawl) with a fairly odd and random set of rules in your head, and these rules allow you to see the area you’re in in a new way. It was apparently developed as a way to combat the sort of tourists who can take a Contiki bus tour of Europe, and then check it off their life-list and say “There. I’ve ‘done’ Europe. No more adventure for me!” I had first glommed onto the idea from Douglas Adams’ The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul in which Dirk Gently performs the Zen method of asking for directions, most of which involves following someone who looks like they know what they’re doing (I‘ve done this. You end up in the oddest places). So anyway. The article refers to the Lonely Planet Guide which will come out in four weeks.

I waited patiently (well, patiently for me, which means I check every damn day I’m at work, but don’t tell anyone what I’m doing, similar to what I’m doing now for the Futurama Monster Robot Maniac Fun Collection that’s been ‘in transit’ for two weeks) and borrowed the book. It was full of wonderful ideas, and things others had done, which I wanted to do.

Things like taking a train ride across Russia, and once an hour (when you're awake) taking a picture at the same angle out of the same window and writing down your thoughts at the time.

Or taking alternating directions (left, right, left, right) until you run out of places to walk.

Or Dog-Leg travel, where you Zen-ask-for-directions people walking their dogs, and whenever you meet another dog you must switch and follow them.

Or Ero-Tourism, where couples travel separately to a new city, make no arrangements to meet, then try to find one another (that one sounds dangerous, at least for me).

Or Barman's Knock. Go to your favourite pub and order your favourite drink. Ask the barperson where their favourite pub is and what they drink there. Go there and order their recommended drink, and then repeat the exercise with whoever serves you, and so on.

The easiest, at least for me, was Mascot Travel.

Mascot Travel:

Hypothesis: See the world through the eyes of a mascot.
Apparatus: A mascot of your choice and a camera.
Method: Pick a personal mascot and take it on your travels with you, eg a stuffed toy, pet rock or garden gnome. Take its picture outside famous landmarks and record its other experiences with a camera. On your return home, consider making a photo album of your mascot's travels. Show it to your friends. The album should look like you were never there.

Like Amelie and the garden gnome!

I chose my iPod as my mascot of choice. So far, I’ve only done one experiment, but more shall arrive soon. So anyway, here it is:

Travels with iPod: A Mascot Travel Experiment

So yesterday I was sitting naked in a beanbag chair eatin' cheetos..."

Ron White on Police Competency:

Ron: "The last time there was a shootout, the cops fired so many shots and missed that the criminals got frustrated and shot himself.

Cop on TV: "It's not fair, he's wearing body armour. We're shooting him, but it's not working."

Ron: "I can see his head! SHOOT HIM IN THE FUCKIN' HEAD! Give my kid a shot! *pow!* 'Howzat, Daddy?' Good job, son. Nevermind, y'all. Poot took him out!"


Ron White on Vegetarians:

Vegetarian: "I'm a vegetarian because raising cattle is bad for the environment, with the cutting of rainforest for grazing land, and cow flatulence in the ozone and such. Ron, what are you doing to help the environment?"

*pause*

Ron: "I'm eatin' the cow."





Bwa ha ha ha.

Arrivals

Hey Craig! Your Neon Genesis box arrived! I'm holding it ransom, though. Je besoin des pragrammes d'ordinateur: Office (or just Word), Nero, etc. Or you will pay 1 million helicopters and a dollar!

No, wait. Shit.

Saw Sin City on the weekend. Poor Tanja had to leave about 5 minutes into The Hard Goodbye (you know, the one with Marv? And the torture? Remember, Tanja has a thing against torture?). I could have done the same, as I found that story to be the least interesting of the lot. I liked the Big Fat Kill, myself. Go Dwight go! Don't listen to the critics who said your story was the weakest! But yes, liked it on the whole. Made two shirts of it.

Work is fucking around my time in lieu. Still. From the middle of July. I have to bug them about it. But then even if they DO do it, they won't get it out to me until next pay. Grrr. Why isn't there a workplace in Sydney, it seems, apart from the University, that can get its shit together, my-money-wise?

Rapid Fire Update, featuring buying thingies!

-->Tanja's been sick lately, from a cold I gave her (I got over it in like three days, AGAIN) and it's a worse cold for her than it was for me (AGAIN!). We stayed in all yesterday watching Pride and Prejudice (I wish people of Jane Austen's time could tell people to fuck off when those people are rude and bitchy. Stupid protocol in stupid polite society) and The Sting (which is one of my all-time favourites and Tanja didn't hate. Score one for the plus category!).

-->Despite Tanja's optomistic reassurances that I'd get boatloads of money back, around $3-500, turns out that thanks to inSuck's undertaxing me when I worked there, I actually OWE fifty bucks in tax. WAS. NOT. AMUSED.

-->Am trying to change my avaliability at work, so as not to work ALL closes until 11 pm every time. May catch hell from bosses. May toss hell right back. Fuck 'em.

-->Tanja keeps calling my black wool greatcoat a "Craig coat". Damnit! I bought that coat when Craig was like 15! It was a Me Coat before it was a Him Coat!

-->Oh, and someone tell Tanja that Million Dollar Baby is a good movie so she'll watch it with me. Ditto Sin City.

Things we bought in our spending spree:
-->Fancy-schmancy new computer with 17" screen and new printer (dubbed HEX, the "Thinking" Machine), on which I can use my iPod (HEX Jr.), Age of Mythology, the new AoM Expansion Pack Titans (in which you can get a giant 100 feet tall, made of molten rock that I call THE GREAT METAL LORD!) and finally, Generals! No more Generals sitting in the corners looking sad!
-->New coffee table. Ooh, spacious.
-->Breville sandwich toaster. No more cold bread for me!
-->Dinner at fancy Rubyo's restaurant. Sort of like Tapas, but not Spanish. Finally! Posh grub we can stuff ourselves on.
-->Gorillaz new CD for Tanja, and Ron White's DVD "They Call Me Tater Salad" for me.

Argh. I hate mechanical shenanigans.

So I turn on the TV to watch a Futurama DVD, but there's sounds and no picture. I unplug, replug, and fin-angle the cords, no picture still. I try different cords. Nada. I freak, get the receipt, see that it's only 6 months old, still under warranty. I call the number in the manual, it's wrong. I look up the number in the L-Z phone book, it refers me to the A-K phone book. I call. They tell me to call the store it was bought at. I do. They say bring it in, we'll fix it if we can. I can Tanja, tell her it's busted and that I'll take it in today on my way to work. She sighs, but is not mad. So, I continue making lunch, and try to put a movie on the PS2. No picture, just sound. I call Tanja back, say it's the brand-new TV, not the less-new DVD. As I'm talking, she tells me to turn off the TV and turn it back on again. And I did. And suddenly everything worked. Picture, sound, the whole shebang. damnit. Um, I mean. Great. Yeah. I got worked up for nothing.

I must say, I really enjoying hanging out with those machines. Hey, a suicide booth! So long suckers! (Craig, Ted and Simon are the only ones who'll get that.)

And now I feel like a moron.

I called Insight, because the bastards hadn't sent me my group certificate so I can do my tax (well, so Tanja can do my tax, but still). I think about it all morning, trying to remember the exact dates I worked there (I think May to early November) and my ID number (2399? 2398? Anyone? Bueller?), and what their number was. I finally check the white pages, get the faxline, check again, finally get the number. I get a female voice I don't recognize who identifies herself as "Leer", and I run down the situation (without mentioning my name, I add), finishing with "...and I'd like my group certificate, so how would I go about getting that?" The voice goes "Well, we could send it to you, or, if you're Lucas, you could always come pick it up." It's Leah. Former hanger-outer with the rest of us idiots. I didn't recognize her. I still don't recognize her. So I tell her to send it to me, and then give my address, and get the hell off the phone. I stand still for ten seconds, before realizing that it was Leah, and then I feel like a schmuck, as I was rude and abrupt to a former aquaintance I haven't spoken to in months. Bugger. So now I'm here. A moron.

Ok, ok, ok...

...I'll update, you whiny people you.

Yes, back from Canadia, after taking 9 planes and crossing over 19 time zones (I lost count) in two weeks, I have returned. I got to see my Dad, and my sisters and Mom too, and picked up some cool stuff (Futurama 2, 25th Hour, Blue Collar comedy tour, and a bunch of painting stuff among other things) and some not so cool stuff (Mom, those board shorts, what were you thinking?). I'm now trying to adjust to extreme jetlag, and getting back used to working (I realized I dislike people telling me what to do. Does that make me an anarchist?).

Anna! Nice to hear from you. Keep in touch more often, will you? By the way, I'm part of your cult now! Tanja got me a little green iPod.

As for Insprite, yeah, yeah, yeah... I'll update whenever. Quit buggin' me.

Nostalgia again (video games, though, not music)

After picking up a faulty Timesplitters2 disc from the video store, I got a credit for a free game rental. Against all odds I grabbed Virtua Fighter 4. Now, I owned Virtua Fighter 1 on Sega Saturn (and eventually Virtua Fighter 2, but I’ll get to that later) and I played the crap out of it. The graphics were shitty by today’s standards, but it was the first 3d fighting game, and also the first in a long time to involve no “magic” attacks. Yep, no fireballs or flying, just hard hitting, realistically portrayed martial arts moves. Fun freakin’ times. Later, I picked up Virtua Fighter 2 and never played the first one again. Same gameplay, MUCH improved graphics and the addition of Shun-di (an old drunken-style kung fu master, funny shit) and Lion, a cocky-as-hell French Praying Mantis style… guy, who rapidly became my new favourite.

Anyway.

New one. Graphics are Tekken-level, each character has several “stances” where the same combinations produce different attacks, and I am loving it. My thumb is hurting already and it’s only been a day. Plus they’ve added a Shaolin monk guy who doesn’t attack much. He lets you attack, then deflects it and hurts you. A lot. Although there is a downside. The graphics got better, but the bottom dropped out on the vocal work. Lion sounds like Wheelie for Transformers, or Igner, Mom’s youngest son from Futurama. Did you lot learn nothing from SSX Tricky? At least bring in Bif Naked, David Arquette and Billy Zane to record!

But I can put up with it to watch Lion leap onto someone’s back, strike their eyes, throat, and break their neck.

What?!? I’m portraying my geek status for all to see!

Reposted from a comment in Caz's blog, and inspired by Tanja's The-Models-inspired rambling...

"I'm going to buck the trend... and talk not about evil people, but about my an-again-off-again love affair with Green Day. Yeah.

The first album I ever bought with my own money was Dookie, by Green Day. And as you do at thirteen, you memorize every track. I recall attempting to drum along to Burnout, and tiring the crap out of my weedy little arms (call Tre Cool unfancy if you like, but for a non-metal and non-Neal Pert-drummer, the bastard isquick.) I had taped tapes of my friends' Kerplunk and 1033 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours. I snapped up Insomniac right away, and did likewise (Brain Stew-Jaded forshadowing my love of songs that switch styles smoothly). Unfortunately, I hit a poor streak shortly before Nimrod came out, so couldn't buy it. My flatmate in the twelfth grade had it, so I didn't stress, but I had broken my Green Day buying streak. I watched Warning go by, though I heard the singles on the radio, and scoffed at International Superhits as a money-grab (I hate greatest hits compilations with no new material, except "poprocks and coke" and "maria"), until American Idiot came out. I had downloaded the title track, and thought it not bad, and then badgered Tanja to get it with her staff discount. Of course, Borders being bastards who raise prices, it was still too much, discount included, for a casual buy. Spotted it at Fish Records, snapped it up, and loved it immediately. Stand-out tracks: Boulevard of Broken Dreams (I know it's been played to death, but I like it, damnit), and especially Jesus of Suburbia and Homecoming (I have a weakness for Broadway-musical-type style changes. I blame Mom forcing me to listen to Les Miserables when I was young). This album actually makes me wish I could still sing along with Billie Joe (stupid hormones) without my voice breaking.

Now, I know Green Day aren't considered cool anymore (I don't buy all this "yer-a-sell-out-i-you-can-sing-AND-afford-a-meal" garbage), but I likes them. I actually snagged Nimrod for $9.95 at JB two days ago while buying the new Flogging Molly album (which Borders said wasn't distributed in Australia. HA! Gout la lime!).

The second week I was at Borders, a harried looking Westie Mom type came bustling in holding a little girl and a giant Boost Juice and corralled me while shelving and asked for the new Good Charlotte album. I pointed her in the right direction, and returned to shelving. She found it, came back to me, holding Green Day's Insomniac album and asking "Is this the new one?" I chuckled and said, "Well, no. The new one is American Idiot, although this is a decent one. Who's it for? Are they after a certain track, or anything by this band." She looked offended (sorry, honey, you don't look like the Berkeley Punk type with your stretch pants and puffa jacket), and said "It's for my thirteen-year-old son." I found her American Idiot, though sent her off with a strong recommendation for the band.

It was only after she left that it hit me that the first CD I'd just recommended to a thirteen-year-old a CD by the band who made the first CD I'd ever bought as a thirteen-year-old. I felt ancient. Old. But also kind of cool that the cycle of rock was rolling on. Heh. Ok, that last line was a bit cheesy.

Whew. Didn't mean to write this much. Actually, I may put this into my Blog as a new entry. Hooray for lazy!"

And I did! I am Lazy-Man! Fear my wrath!

Guh. Ogg Tired.

Stocktake last night. 6 pm to 4:15 am. Lots of looking at small numbers on stickers, much Red Bull and Pepsi to stayy awake. Finished off night by lifting boxes of CDs. Ouch. Came home just ten minutes before Tanja was to get up to go to work. Fell asleep. Slept til 12:35. Still tired. Guh.

Frustration

Damn it. Why do good movies always get released JUST after I buy something. Last Samurai, 28 Days Later, Army of Darkness, Undercover Blues, Fight Club, Shawshank Redeption, all the Crow sequels.... They're all under 20 bucks. Then they've released the El Mariachi-Desperado-Once Upon A Time In Mexico box set for 35 dollars. Dagnabbit! Don't these people WANT me to have money?

I'm drowning my sorrows in Shaun of the Dead.

"Aren't you gonna thank me?"
"What for?"
"Tidying up."
"It doesn't look that tidy."
"Well, I had a few beers when I finished."

Also, Blogger seems to be playing up and not letting me post new entries. It freezes when I try to load the update screen. And of course, now that I say it's doing so, it works. Typical.

Naughty Laughter

Tanja and I were watching the Melbourne Comedy Festival Debate last night. The topic was "Does God have a sense of humour?" and it was bloody wonderful.

Anyway, one of the guys went up and mentioned that his proof that God DID have a sense of humour was all the religious memorobilia sold in Jerusalem, like Pens and hats of Jesus. He said he tested them by going into a stall and asking for a giant Jesus head that you can use to squeeze orange juice, and the crown of thorns spin to harvest the juice, and the juice comes out the mouth. (I was already chuckling at this point) The vendor pauses, then says "No... we don't have those... but it's a bloody good idea!"

Wait for it...

"We can call it the King of the Juice!"

I nearly died.

I'm going to hell. Me, Martin Scorcese and Denis Leary are catching the express bus.

Oh, and two new comics.

Yadda Yadda Yadda

New comics, and stuff.

Oh, and going to see Hitchhiker's on Saturday. Huzzah!

The Old Military Prayer...

So I was at work Monday the 18th, right? I had got a single, not a return train ticket, because the day before my manager had given me a lift home. She apparantly hadn't brought her car Monday, so I was forced to take the train.

Now, as I ran down to the station at 11:30, the gates were open (as they often are late at night), and my train was leaving in under a minute. I figure, bugger it, I don't have time to grab a ticket, they hardly ever check. I hopped onto the train, went to Redfern, switched platforms (noticing the gates were open here too), and caught the train to Newtown.

I get off the train and walk down the platform, playing Craig's gameboy advance (a boon to the commuter). As I reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, I stop dead. There are two train guards at the top, checking tickets.

I freeze, about-face, and start walking back up the platform, muttering "ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck..." and other such intellectual expressions. My brain is whirring a mile a minute. I walk up to the timetable and see that in 20 minutes, at 12:15, there's train back to Redfern. I can always walk back. I also check my wallet. Might there be an old ticket I could bluff with? Nope. All I find is a Newtown to Hornsby return from the 13th. Oh weel, I'll be ok, as long as they don't come down onto the platform, right?

Oh shit, they're coming down to the platform. They must have noticed my ever-so-stealthy deer-in-the-headlights pose at the bottom of the stairs. I don't look up and pretend to be engrossed in Final Fantasy Tactics.

Guard: "'Scuse me, mate, but could we see your ticket?"
Me: "Umm, yeah sure." *hand them the Hornsby return from the 13th with a straight face*
*pause*
Guard: "Oh, ok. Here you go. *hands ticket back* There's one last train from here, isn't there?"
Me: "Ummm... yeah, the 12:15."
Guard: "You must have just missed the last one."
Me: "Must have. Heh. Heh."
Guard: "Ok, thanks. Have a good night." *returns to his post at the top of the stairs*
Me: *dies*

So I wait the 20 minutes, calling Tanja and letting her know I'll be a bit late (and waking her up, poor thing). I get the train to Redfern, step off, and there are guards there too. I walk up, hand the the Hornsby ticket, which they hand right back, I walk up the stairs and out the open gates. Homefree.

So, that military prayer in the title? It's an old one, but a good one.

"Thank the Lord for people stupider than me."

"My God, you're a beard with an idiot attached."

Whew. While since I updated.

Really fast recap: Tanja and me. Noosa. Lovely weather, got a tan, shopped a lot, went to the beach, met Steve Irwin. Drank in swim-up bar.

After I got back, I “quit” the CCA-regime and the field of telemarketing (the quotation marks are because I haven’t actually told them yet) and joined the ragtag motley crew at Borders Bondi as part of the music team. It’s not bad, actually.

Things I’ve learned since starting at Borders:
:: Black Books is wonderful (the boxed set of all three seasons selling at $41 actually wooed me away from buying Shaun of the Dead… at least until next pay), and Dylan Moran is my hero.
:: Shelving books and organizing things is strangely calming. It’s kinda Zen. It’s “Ze”.
:: I am the only one in the store who cares about the graphic novel section. You can’t put American Splendour next to Ultimate X-Men. It’s not RIGHT!
:: Sometimes managers (with names beginning with W) are not the knowledge centres of their sections, and you’ll learn more from a part-timer who started 4 weeks before you.
:: When people change the display, you can get free posters!
:: The film “Hero” is about saying three phrases, then flying at people with swords. Repeat, later, rinse,stab.
:: Little French guys in camouflage will get upset when you tell them that electronica is in the Dance section. “Bhut, electah-roh-in-CAH izznot dance! Then they’ll spent an hour and a half looking at the whole section, and then ask to listen to seven different CDs for ten minutes each (during which, I’m not allowed to leave information) and then get angry when I won’t take an import CD out of its cellophane, and then buy that one import, and leave all the ones he listened to.
:: If your microwave gets broken, a sandwich-maker will appear like magic within a day.
:: Sushi is only good when it has chicken in it.
:: I need more money, as there are many fancy and expensive things I wish to purchase.

Warning!

simulcast from Marathon Men:
"T-Minus 12.5 hours until Lord of the Rings Special Edition Marathon Begins. Aw fucken' yeah. that' going to be 11.5 hours of Peter-Jackson-y goodness. And it'll be the best kind of Peter Jackson-y goodness. The kind where we don't see Peter-Jackson."

Yes! Tis true! Der Marathon begins tomorrow morning! Fear us! Fear for us!

Hmmm...

Captian Carrot You scored 84 intelligence, 67 morality, and 75 physical strengenth!

You are an intriguing character. Good hearted, incredibly strong, and a headful of information that makes that Jeopardy guy look like a bar trivia hack. No one knows what to make of a six-foot tall dwarf who dates a werewolf, and may be the true heir to the throne of Ankh-Morpork. But you can make everyone get along, and are a born leader.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 12% on intelligence You scored higher than 91% on morality You scored higher than 83% on strength

Link: The Which Discworld Character Am I Test written by smirkette on Ok Cupid

Not my first choice... I figured I'd be more Vimes-y. But I can deal.

Guess what?

Tanja's pished on wheat beer! It's funny! She's watching Frasier and laughing at the... less intellectual jokes. Like "good-cop-horny-cop".

Tidbits

I put on Monty Python's And Now For Something Completely Different last night, despite Tanja's boredom at The Holy Grail. She laughed uproariously at the little old lady getting blasted out of her socks in the opening. My intellectual girl, ladies and gentlemen. Of course, this is the same woman who bought chocolate chip hot cross buns yesterday. They're an atrocity! A yummy atrocity, but still!

Rented Red Faction II for PS2. I'm a bit meh... graphics good, but the weapons are either too good (grenade laucher makes you damn near unkillable) or useless for various reasons (the machine guns can't hit shit, even when you're right in front of the guy, and the big weapons like the railgun fire beams so narrow that you have to be dead-on-balls-accurate to hit anything). Also, no manual aim OR auto-aim! There's a crosshairs at the centre of the screen which moves with your guy. It's frustrating. Oh well, back to TimeSplitters 2 for me!

Someone send a memo to the people of Australia: YOU CANNOT BE ELECTROCUTED BY BEING ON THE PHONE IN A THUNDERSTORM! It's an urban legend! I had never heard of this until I got here, but everyone in Oz is paranoid that if they have anything electrical running when it's raining, they could die. How stupid is that?

On a sadder note, Daddo from work has decided to give up the telemarketing game for his return to Uni. I'll miss his punk ass, but also, I'm jealous. Want better job!

I'm downloading whole albums of Radiohead, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones! Fear my musical wrath!

Must go buy broccoli. Oh, and some thing came in the mail that says that I'm a permanent resident. Or whatever.


OH, and Shaun of the Dead is coming out on DVD the 24th of March. Aboot fuckin' time!

Are you now, or have you ever been Even Steven?

Six new comics, by the way.

So Sunday night, Tanja's set to meet up with her friend Ros for drinks and dinner. We think, hey, James is nearby, let's give him a ring. We do, he's into it, and Catherine comes along too. Before we leave, we see it's bucketing down rain, so I take the two bottles of wine we're going to bring for pizza in my backpack to avoid having to come back to the flat. We meet up, have four or so cocktails, change tables a bit, discuss gym memberships and garnishes, before Catherine leaves, and we head off for pizza. We're five steps out the door and Tanja says "Do you have your backpack?" so I go back in.

I can't find it. I get mad. Kick the wall, storm to the front bar, and start interrogating the bartender. He gives me a coaster with a number on it and says to call the next day. Since we're down two bottles of wine, my sunglasses (in what I consider another example of the universe taking my sunnies away from me constantly), and a lovely fountain pen Tanja got me for the first birthday I celebrated here. Bugger.

Off we go to supper, with James, Tanja and Ros each buying another bottle of wine. We demolish two pizzas and the three bottles, Ros leaves, and James, Tanja, and I stagger back here to watch Empire Records. Tanja staggers off to bed, and James adopts the couch, and proceeds to laugh at the jokes, only stopping every so often to go "Wow, Liv Tyler's so hot." Tanja calls me in, and she's been sick, poor dear. I help her clean up, and James heads off.

So.

The next day, after work, I swing by the Bank Hotel, and ask if anyone turned a bag in yesterday with a Canadian flag on it. "Yes, it's right here." Everything inside still there. Feel the wrath of Even-Steven!

Also, I have plans to make a wicked tequila punch for Craig's birthday festivities.

That's all. Go about your business.

Ups and Downs Part II

A quick post-script to last entry: once I got to Immigration, at 3:45, I saw the doors were shut. Big sign on the door says "Open until 4, Mon-Fri". I thumped the door loud enough to get the attention of a security guard, who informed me it was actually 4:25 and my watch had stopped. Bugger. And no, I wasn't allowed to leave it for the case worker, so he shut the door in my face. Upside, I was able to get to work early and get the seat I wanted.

Ups and Downs

New comics, that took forever. Go see. And stuff.

I feel all even-Steven the last few days. Good thing, bad thing, bad thing, good thing, etc.

Examples? Why yes, I do have them.

Upside: In the city the other day, I find Empire Records on DVD, which I've been looking for frantically for the last month. Hurrah, it's only 20 dollars. Downside: it's at HMV, so the Borders gift card I was hoping to use for it is useless. Upside: Tanja likes it, and it inspires her to think of owning a bookstore. Big up. Downside: It's 20 dollars that I wasn't expecting to spend, which knocks my budget for the week all to hell. It leaves me eyeing my finances very carefully, since Craig's birthday bash was to be this Friday. Upside: Craig's management (his mom) has rearranged the party to next week, so no financial worry. Downside: no crazy partying this week. Boo-urns. Upside: We recieve the Criminal Record check from the RCMP in the mail yesterday! Apparantly, despite my history of teenage deliquincy, including throwing coffee creamers at buses and shoplifting chocolate bars, it's clear! Hurrah! No more worrying! I can get my Visa! I can get it to the case officer and he can have my Visa ready in a week or so. BIG FARKING HURRAH! Downside: For the last hour and a half, the people upstairs have been, from the sounds of it, building the miniature of Helm's Deep. It's hammering and grinding and possibly drilling. And maybe welding. All I know is it's drowning out music, new Buffy, and various other things I'm trying to do. And it's like wham, wham, wham, wham, BRRRRAAA-AAAAAA-ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH wham, wham, wham, BRRRRAAA-AAAAA-AARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH wham, wham, wham, wham, wham,BRRRRAAA-AAAA-AAARRRRRGGG-GHHHHHH wham, wham, wham, wham etc. Headache makers. Argh.

But hey, the good things are very good, and the bad things are just annoying. So I say I come out on the positive. Go me.

Friends In Low Places

So it was Tanja's and my anniversary last night! Hooray! We celebrated the morning by grocery shopping! And I found a glass drinking game that I had been eyeing since before Christmas had been marked down from twenty dollars to five. So I bought it. Huzzah. It's like Naughts and crosses, but with shot glasses. Very posh looking. Oh, and we booked a holiday to Noosa in Queensland. Lovely and wonderful. But the drinking game. THAT was the big event. ;)

So, then dinner. We had some Chandon bubbly, and some lovely Thai food (money bags, choo chee prawns and ginger pork *drool*), and toasted our lovely relationship. Then headed off to meet the usual suspects at the Bank Hotel. Very crowded, a few misdirections, a badly mixed apple martini or two (shocking when standards slip) but everything turns out ok. We have a few cocktails, a few laughs, and changed tables at least three times. I was finally able to give Anna her Christmas present (a Hot Hot Heat t-shirt), and get my Wee Free Men book back. She also said my Killers t-shirt looked just like her official one. Huzzah! A bootleggers dream! We then (we being Craig, Ted, James, Catherine, Anna, Annie, Mark, Marcel, Tanja and myself) then headed off to Kelly's for Karaoke Night. We get in, find a table, and grab a drink.

Then as we're going to sit down, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and there's this big guy I don't know. He slaps me on the shoulder, says "How ya goin', mate?" And then the world spins, and I'm deaf in my left ear and sitting on the floor. Looking up at him. He'd hauled off and decked me in the side of the head. It happened fast enough that Tanja didn't even have time to get up from the table and I was down. I was so disoriented that I couldn't even get up, just sat there holding my ear and yelling, "What the fuck is wrong with you? What'd you hit me for?" etc. Well, I raise my glass to the bouncers and bartenders of Kelly's, who bundled the bastard straight out into the street and on his way. I was ok, as my hearing and equilibrium returned, and suffered a fat lip from my own teeth and a slightly damaged sense of tone (which may have assisted my singing later). The weird thing was, another guy I didn't know came up to me later and asked if I was ok, and then explained that he worked with the idiot who hit me, and how he's not a bad guy, but he "had a few screws loose". Hoo boy.

We recovered nicely from this event (I was assisted by a shot of Sambuca {thank you Jimmy!} which the bartender wouldn't let me light on fire), and went on to have a pretty good night. I sang Zoot Suit Riot by the Cherry Poppin Daddies despite it being much too high for me (I think the outer ear damage helped me in this respect). Marcel perked up his courage and sang Paint It Black by the Stones and did great. He had been practicing all week, poor guy. We tumbled home at 1:00 or so, sadly missing James and Craig singing November Rain and Chop Suey, respectively. We kept trying to push Tanja into singing Roxette or Ace of Bass, but to no avail. Maybe next time. Very fun night, all in all.

So this morning I wake up with a whopper of a headache and a voice croakier than Gavin Rossdale. Before she went to work, Tanja got me some water and some tablets (brick potato llama), and after two discs of Seinfeld and two pieces of raisin toast, I'm feeling better. I still called in for work this afternoon, because of my voice. Who wants to buy raffle entries from Leonard Cohen's younger cousin?

Now where's that coffee? 'Cause these pretzels are making me thirsty!

Collect call from: "I'm not giving my name to a machine!"

New comics, once again.

Oh, and an afterthought: on the 4th of February, Tanja and I have been together for two years. In your face, doubters!

Hey look.

Three new comics. I couldn't resist.

Also, Craig and I liberated a tennis ball from the slave courts of the Cleveland Street Park. Viva la rasa!

Whew.

Man, I'm up early.

So.

Let's get random (in an Anna-like posting style. In your face miss_adventure!)!

I need a hat rack. Although, admittedly, we'd have no room in the apartment for it, the current state of affairs (balancing all 7 hats on top of the bookshelf) is not going to work well for long. Dust and things falling are becoming an issue.


I've made a Killers t-shirt, but have nowhere to put the girl silhouette. I've got the band name in the middle of the chest, and I don't know whether the girl should go on the front-shoulder-right/left, bottom hem right/left, back-bottom hem left/right or back middle centre.


I've rented Big Fish and I, Robot. Tell me right now if they are any good without revealing a single plot detail!


I'm downloading the Black Keys "thickfreakness" album for the second time.My first copy went to me Marketing Mix prof for educational purposes. Now I'm slightly bitter because after I burned it the first time, I deleted it off the harddrive. Oh well. Hooray for lack of download limitations.


One more point for the Cat Empire being inexorbitantly cool: on the "On The Attack" DVD, they play a French acoustic version of Hotel California with melodica accompanyment. And they make it sound good.


I think I'm going to start updating the comic once a week, one strip per week. this whole leaving-it-for-a-month-and-then-making-ten-comics-in-one-day thing has got to go. Of course, as I say this, I've just put up a crapload of new comics.


In Australia, laptop computers have a tendency to, on hot or humid days, overheat ridiculously fast and then shut themselves down.


Black cats look orange under sunlight.


And remember... you don't have to outrun the bear... you only have to outrun your friends.

Pick-a-tures!

...from James' housewarming.


Catherine enjoys drinking in moderation.


Craig acting reasonable.


Bam! the Dog in a rare moment of stillness.


METAL! James and his new shirt.


Catherine siphons Ted's Coke supply when he's distracted by Val Kilmer as Madmartigan.


Catherine enjoys a honey sandwich, proving she exists on sugar alone. Ted stares balefully at Val for rejecting his advances.


Good God! It's Ted!

Guess who? Rah-ruuuu!

Nixon's back, baby!


I'm his friend, Jesus!

I've been told I do a decent Nixon. Not real-Nixon. Futurama-Nixon. And Ted can do Brannigan and Zoidberg. And Craig does Kif. A lot. And Tanja told one of her subordinates to bite her shiny metal ass.

We've all been infected.

Anyway, holiday wrap-up: Went up to Tanja's folks' place, drank too much, got swanky margarita glasses and recipes, Shrek 2 DVD, Powderfinger CD, Pratchett books, etc. Went to the Hunter Valley, bought wine. Must go back. Over-stayed welcome at TFP, got snippy with lovely girlfriend. Reconciled. Post-Christmas splurging. Got swanky jeans, deadly belt, new Converse shoes, Playstation game, new camera card, Get Fuzzy calender. Still waiting on Mom's box. Shut up. Her parcel. The CHRISTMAS parcel, you sick fuck. New Years fireworks, Ted and Craig came over, watched Animal House. TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!

Tanja and I headed off to James' place yesterday and hung out with him and Ted and Craig and Catherine and Bam! the Dog. No, the exclamation mark is not a typo. This dog is a powderkeg of dogginess. We watch Willow, and we lent James Transformers and Ladyhawke so I could borrow 29 Days Later, Blade and Fight Club. Gotta love the barter system. Oh, and James lives in Newtown now! I know someone who doesn't live in the 'Burbs! Hurray!

There are still no potatoes. I may be forced to go and get some chips.

Flattery will get you flattened.

Tanja said nice things about me. And made me blush, damn her.

"He's a pretty great chappy, as you know, very endearing, and gorgeous when he pouts, adorable when he's hunted down a bargain and all pleased with himself (he's a cheapskate, first to admit it), and endearingly painful when you watch a movie with him and he pauses it to explain the backstory of what just went on there based on the comic, the directors cut, what IMDB or whatever said about it, or just to explain why he giggled at that point.

He also cooks a mean Penne Arrabiata, but you'd faint if you saw the kitchen after."

Grumble. Grumble. We're out of potatoes, and these pretzels are making me THIRSTY!