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Most Aussies would be aware of the Midalia Steel ad on the telly involving a dog chasing a cat through a workshop. To provide a brief synopsis, the Mi1dalia dog is wandering unchecked through a busy steel manufacturing plant (Already WorkSafe are rubbing they’re hands together) when suddenly the dog spots a cat within the factory, the chase is on and hilarity ensues. Until the cat tires of leading the dog on and makes for the door, the dog showing more wisdom than any dog in creation stops chasing the cat and hits the button to close the door (Possibly creating an interesting situation for any forkie aiming at going through the door. The cats stops at the door, gives a pitiful meow and we cut back to the dog.

Now the logical conclusion… the cat gets torn apart, we see an anime style blood spray across the door and cut back to the dog standing blood soaked over the shattered body of it’s adversary. Then we can cut to the Midalia splash page and wait for the switch board to light up with crazed PETA members demanding the director and creative minds behind the ad be dragged behind a car till dead, and their families while we are at it.

So myself and Meow move to Melbourne in a couple of days and over the last 3 months everyone we’ve talked to have always said the same thing, Your going to need warm clothes! First of all let me say this, although everyone thinks Perth is in the middle of nowhere, we don’t live under a rock, yes I’m fully fucking aware that it is comparatively cold in Melbourne than Perth, it’s all Melbourne people go on about (oh and football, go the bobcats!). Moving on, so after 3 months I was starting to wonder if Melbourne even had a summer, if not then why in the name of Jose’s nipples are we moving there. After some research on the Bureau of Meteorology’s website, I was startled to find out that while Melbourne did have lower temperatures than Perth, it wasn’t the oh-god-I-didn’t-even-know-hair-folicals-could-freeze sub artic temperatures that most have lead me to believe is the case, just slightly lower and longer than Perth. But from my visit a couple of weeks ago, it is apparent that the cold is different more bitter.

Either way, I’m looking forward to the move. Slightly worried about finding a place, what with the 1.1% vacancy rates going on at the moment. Pip.

We’ve all seen cars driving around with these little yellow sign proudly proclaiming “Baby on Board” but why? Do these parents think that this sign will prevent people from rear ending them? or maybe if your thinking ‘I’ll crash into these guys cause I have nothing better to do and I don’t give a shit about my own personal safety’? Cause let me tell you if a person was thinking this, they would see that baby on board sign as a target, cause if your going to try and take another person’s life you might as well added their next generation to the mix.

Then there is the possibility these parents are trying to advertise the fact that they have managed to spawn another life into this world. I can imagine a person following this car, who has been trying desperately to have kids for years thinking ‘How is this world fair, if I can’t have kids why does this fucker get too!’ then ramming the car off the road and starting a life as a baby killer.

Another possibility is that you finally have a sign that says ‘I know I’m doing 10km under the limit and revering all over the road cause, but I simple can drive’ but that would be a rather large sign and ‘Baby on Board’ has such a cute ring. Do us all a favour and take the sign down, stop using your podling to excuse your bad driving and get driving lessons, please.

“Today releases the GMemeory Beta system to the public. The new Google service that reads your brains waves to help you remember anything from phones number to what being a virgin was like, it’s a benchmark in personal searching”

I’m waiting for this day, Google will take over your brain. Sorry read your brain. One dat it will get too a point where the only thing Google doesn’t know is the those obscure facts carried around inside your nugget.

When that day comes, you type in the google.com into your browser and a disclaimer comes up asking permission to scan your brain as part of it’s search will Jimmy you click yes and suddenly all those fantasies about dogs, chickens and poly pipe will public baby.

Over a year since I last wrote something, lucky no one reads this, or they might have started think I was dead or worse turned into a catatonic chicken.

Now for no reason, Random Shit.

Did you know an Orchidometer is used to measure the volume of the testicles! I don’t get the deal with puberty, I didn’t really notice at the time, though the hair was a bit weird.

New years resolutions. Personally I avoid making them, mostly cause I know that I will break them but the other part is that if you really want to start/stop doing something waiting till the end of the year seems like a bit of a cop out. Having said that though I did resolve to quit smoking, but I knew being hung over and not smoking new years day would suck. By the way I still smoke.. might have to rethink that idea.

Amon Amarth Rocks, saw them live at Amplifier Bar last Saturday and it was an awesome display of Viking Metal. Apparently Qantas lost their luggage, so that could explain the less theatrical nature of the gig but it took nothing away from the experience. It probably screams silently that Amon Amarth doesn’t need all the chain mail and horns and shit to put on a kick ass performance. It also probably says a lot about how Perth are happy for an international metal acts, though the last year has been pretty damn good for metal.

Why I’m writing this I have no idea, at the moment the blog is still broken.. sort of.

Get a girl friend, Grow lamb chops, Lose girl friend. No one will believe this but it is a coincidence! really.

Ginger Snaps are awesome, I choose to not believe in fiddlesticks (Sounds like something a catholic priest would use).

You know who you are. Let me start with a point that a lot of vegetarians seem to over look; fish and chicken are in fact animals too. All you morons out there who are in love with the idea of battling for animal rights or trying to cleanse your bodies, you have noble, all be it stupid principals. But as soon as you lose the will power to just say no to that juicy chicken leg or smoke salmon or herb crusted lamb shank or flame grilled T-bone, that’s when you might as well go down to the abattoir and shoot a lamb, then eats it’s still warm insides.

Tell you what, if you truly believed in these principals become a Vegan, that’d prove yourself as a real man/woman. None of this wishy-washy crap about preserving animal rights when you’re still knocking back a pound of cheese and washing the whole shit mix down with a pint of milk. No eating animals OR animal products, and even to the extent of not wearing any animal products, drop them Gucci loafers of your ass, bitch.

And all you stupid morons, and that’s being nice, who detox. What The Fuck, eating 3 almonds and a carrot stick a day is the most fucked up thing I have heard. Some of you will be reading this going “You made that up, no one would do that” I live in Perth, Western Australia and there are morons doing it right now, I shit you not, so god only knows, else where in the world, where stranger people reside, what people are doing to themselves. I heard of a cult in America called The Breathians, they believed that the body didn’t need food or water to survive. The whole thing came to crashing end when the leader was caught buying food in 24hr gas station. For all the detoxes, fasting and whatever the hell else you people do to yourselves, your all going to die, die healthy but still in the end die. That I can guarantee.

The other day, whilst out killing my lungs with wondrous nicotine I noticed an old timer walking past. This was the A typical old geezer; Slacks, Old Italian shoes and a Polo shirt stretched over a completely round, large beer gut. You all know who I’m talking about as these gents are usually your fathers, uncles or sugar daddies. Now I have no problem with these gentlemen, no my beef is in the fact that they feel the need to put everything normal people carry in pockets, in they’re top pocket. The entire wardrobe is polo shirts, and the only time to get more shirts is when the ass end falls out of that top pocket, then it’s down to k-mart to invest $50 dollars in 5 new ones.

Of course the funny thing is nowadays all the trendy wank stains are wearing polos as well… in pink, brown, lime green. Now some would think that the old timers would be put off by this, but no, see it’s back to the 70’s for these guys. Ever noticed how older people go nuts when they discover something about you that they used to back in they’re golden days, you know “I remember listening to that back in oooo would have been back in 34, calm before the storm that was, see there was an angry young man in Germany by the name of…” and we all know where it goes from there. So apart from the pink, all the polo are open for business, there is nothing that the oldies won’t wear.

There is one item though that won’t be found in the top pocket, the wallet. My father has had the same wallet for as long as I can remember, I’ve had about 4 in the last 6-7 years. The wallet will never move from the back pocket either, see after having it in the same spot for the last 40 years, the wallet has actually ‘craved’ itself a little niche in it’s owners ass cheek.

Some things that can be found these top pockets include but not limited to:

• Glasses with open case;
• Pen;
• Prescription;
• Tablets for said prescription;
• Son/Daughter/Mate’s business card;
• Mobile phone;
• Comb, purchased at the same time as the wallet;
• PDA for the more technically minded folks.

No, I’m not talking about the Cash Only or 12 items or less lanes in your local Coles or Woolworths, I’m talking about your Westfields and such.

The idea I’m about to float can’t be a new one and I’m sure there are already many rants, blogs and articles about this, but damn it I want to have my say. There should be lanes slow, fast, hell even a freeway in the middle of the corridors. Thus enabling people who value they’re time to get in and out faster.

People who go into shops knowing exactly what they want and where it is, I know you’re with me on this. How many times have you gotten stuck behind some idiot dawdling along, when all you want to do is get to kmart and buy some socks and get out again as fast as humanly possible. Too many times for me, way too many times, but if we could keep the idiots to the outside of the hallways, near the shops, then I could walk as fast as I like down the middle and get on with my Saturday, which is too precious to be spent stuck behind some guy/girl wondering “Should I buy that shirt? hmm I don’t think I’ve got anything to go with it” or “I wonder if Bobby thought I was a slut last night when I put out in the back of his panel van” or whatever else goes through the vacant space these people stupidly call a brain.

And don’t get me start on people with prams. You’ve pop out a kid, now you get to use a pram like a battering ram to punt shoppers out of the way. Especially the “Hummer” style prams with more storage space than a garden shed, if Tommy goes through a whole 30 bulk pack of Huggies in one outing, then the proper place for him is the Doctors not a shopping centre. It only gets worse the old they get, suddenly Tommy can walk, not well mind you but none the less these over zealous parents think it’s great cause they don’t have to haul his ass around, and don’t start thinking “That’s good, they won’t have the pram any more” wrong. The problem is that kids don’t pay attention, they wander around like it’s a fucking zoo (which is probably not far from the truth), I cannot express in words the feel elation I would get from taking one of these wandering brats and gaffer taping them to the parents back “You carried the poddling for 9 months, an extra 2 hrs on Saturday ain’t going to kill you, and for the dads I don’t care, you don’t wanna carry it fine, next time refrain from stick your dick in its mother. I told you not to get me started.

On the 26th of January each year, Australia celebrates the day British Settlement began in 1788. In other words it’s another excuse for a public holiday and getting on the piss.

The only problem with this years Aussie Day festivities was that the 26th is actually a Thursday, meaning all the people who drank beer, wine and/or spirits till they couldn’t feel they’re legs but see the contents of they’re stomach. All those people are now sitting behind a desk, servicing at a counter, mowing a lawn praying that something really badly fucks up and they get to go home and sleep off the 6 pack of Foster and cask of Wild Peach that is making they’re heads pound, stomach turn and the feeling that your skin is a suit.. an old, crumpled tweed suit, 2 sizes to big.

There were no “Good Morning everyone” today, only an exchanged of grunts more suited to talking to whales than any form of social intercourse. Some would say don’t drink as much, too that I would say that’s UnAustralian, as an Australian it is my right to get so absolutely smashed, I start seeing hot pink salmon swimming up stream, through clouds. And not just Australia Day, any public holiday, and in Australia we have a fair few, we want, nah deserve to get on the piss like livers grow on trees and replacing them is as easy as swapping the batteries in the TV remote.

Now keep in mind that Friday is a hard day anyway, but that’s a rant for another day. What is the solution? Well unfortunately we are way past the time for solutions, but if Johnny Howard had of come out of his tax payer supplied dwellings and stated “Thursday through to Sunday is now a 4 day long weekend to celebrate this great nation” I would now be happy and asleep. Instead of staring at a computer screen, drooling all over my keyboard while a jack hammer rattles out Camp Town Lady behind my eyeballs!

Normally I have no problem with birds, I’ve gone 23 years without incident. But now me and those damn birds have a problem, all cause by one psychocotic little feather bag. It all happened one spring morning, I was walking to the train station (as I had done for many weeks) to catch my usual train into work, when suddenly I was descended upon from above.. by a bird, a willy wag tail.

Before all you nature loving hippies climb onto your soap box to give me the usual crap about ‘Respecting the rights of all god creatures’, I have no problem with animals in general, but due to that little willy wag tail I now have a paranoid fear of all birds. The street I live on is about 1/2 km long, with trees all down the street, trees with birds.. lots of birds. I feel like I’m in the Alfred Hickcock film The Birds, One bird… A couple birds, then your dead. I can’t even listen to certain songs, like Slipknot songs when the DJ starts scratching.. it sounds like a bird and I start looking behind me for the inevitable attack.

There have been suggestions to help prevent the little psychos from attacking, wear a bright hat or put sunglasses on the back of my head, so the bird thinks your facing him. Honestly I think carrying a katana and making the bird pay with it’s blood is the best idea. But then I’ll get in a world of trouble from, well everyone. People are more interested in the birds safety than preventing my head from becoming a dart board for birds.