I had to Google ‘Skid Pan’

While searching for a picture of Michael Bolton riding a horse, I came across someones special, personal bucket list:

FA – Fucking Awesome, B – Boring
1/ To duet with Michael Bolton - FA
2/ To sing at the Royal Albert Hall (with or without an audience, I really dont mind) – B
3/ To drive a double decker bus round on a skid pan - FA
4/  To do a stand up comedy routine in a comedy club - B
5/ To photograph an African safari - B
6/ To swim with dolphins - B
7/ To interview Ozzy Osbourne - FA/B because it’s Jennifer interviewing
8/ To read the news on BBC1 - B
9/ To have my book published - B
10/  To have my invention taken up on Dragons Den by Peter Jones, Duncan Banatyne and Theo Paphitis - B

Love Jennifer XXXX

Now Jennifer, I’ve noticed that you have a “Fucking Awesome” strike rate of 25%  which is quite poor, so allow me to make a few amendments:

1/ Duet with long-haired Michael Bolton
2/ Start an impromptu sing-a-long at the UN
3/ Borrow a school bus full of kids and drive it on a skid pan
4/ Stand-up comedy at Guantanamo Bay
5/ Photo-bomb the next royal wedding family shot
6/ Swim with Martin Scorsese
7/ Interview Courtney Love, ask if she killed Kurt
8/ Get on A Current Affair
9/ Do porn
10/ Sucker punch that guy on MythBusters, y’know, the one that looks like Paul Giamatti

And that, Jennifer, is how you bucket list. 

A Day In The Life

So I was Google Imaging Tracy Grimshaw, nothing out of the ordinary really seeing as it’s part of my daily work schedule:
8.45: Arrive at work.
9.00: Make cereal.
9.01: Check ninemsn.com.au for any juicy ACA goss.
9.15: Totally dig the lack of referencing and author ownership. (side note: who exactly is ‘Ninemsn Staff’? Aside from having a convenient name, I get the feeling that he/she is a real workaholic)
9.16: Head to textsfromlastnight.com
9.30: Check emails.
10.00: Do work.
10.30: Check youtube for ACA funnies.
11.00: Do work.
11.30:  Call Tracy Grimshaw.
11.31: Voicemail. She must be taping. Leave a brief message and hang up phone.
11.32: Call Mike Munro, try to give him the nickname “Mike the Kid” and ask if he still hangs with the ACA crew namely Tracy Grimshaw. Puzzled response. Hang up phone.
11.33: Do work.
12.00: Lunch. Google Tracy Grimshaw images. Nothing new uploaded. “Right click, save as” my favourite ones.
12.15: Colour print saved images, followed by a work memo. Head to printer. The perfect crime.
12.30: Head to the toilet, scatter the images over the floor and cry over them yelling “why won’t she just recipricate my love?”
12.32: Gather up the images and return to desk.
12.33: Check voicemail. No response. Gather up images and head to toilet again.
12.40: Resume work.
1.00: Call Ray Martin. Notice the changed number. Exclaim “prick!” and  frighten worker next to me.
1.02: Call ACA direct with a new story idea, usually one that involves kid’s fruit juice or speeding fines.
1.04: Get shut down by the receptionist (usually Rhiannon or Vanessa) who terminates the call.
1.05: Do work.
1.30: Google images of Ray Martin. Print off images, an office memo and collect from the printer.
2.00: Pin up the images of Ray.
2.05: Throw food scraps at his face.
2.30: Do Work.
3.00: Call Tracy again.
3.01: SHE ANSWERS!
3.01: Nope, I’ve dialled a ’3′ instead of a ’6′.
3.01: Curse out the woman on the phone. Frighten worker next to me.
3.02: Dial the right number.
3.02: SHE ANSWERS!
3.02: She mumbles something about not having the time for “jokes” today.
 3.03: She hangs up.
3.04: Youtube songs about unrequited love that end with the singer having just a glimmer of hope after the love of their life tells them they don’t have time for jokes “today”.
3.10: Search results are inconclusive.
3.11: Search upbeat songs that leave the singer hopeful that the next day will bring to them Tracy Grimshaw holding a Bodyshop gift basket.
4.00: Make a playlist, which is usally just Neil Diamond’s ‘I’m A Believer’ on repeat.
4.58: Shut down computer, take down soiled pictures of Ray.
4.59: Call the Bodyshop.

So anyway, I was googling the images and stumbled across this little gem of a forum. And it’s like, “uh losers, get a life.” Don’t sit there discussing the lives of news reading and human interest officers (a term I am trying to pen to describe ACA/TT presenters), especially on a rail forum. What the hell? They’re never going to see that, you got to get to source direct: their homes. I unfortunately have some sort of order that restrains me from entering the city of Sydney, but what’s the bet none of these guys are in this sort of pickle? Just don’t touch their hair.

Female Comedians

Cont.

I don’t want to hate on female comedians, they’re up there on the big stage wearing their big peoples clothes trying to make a living like the rest of us. Good for them. The only difference is I don’t fucking suck at my job. For example, if I have to hand in a report at work I would do the appropriate amount of research, consider the target audience and send the necessary amount of Outlook meeting requests. I don’t look around my office and think:

• Cup of soup
• Tampons
• Kids footy training
• My husband is stupid

Then try and make up a hilarious but true anecdote.

I saw a review the other day for Fiona O’Loughlin (see below post) and it went something like:
“I’m one of those people who don’t like it when comedians talk about their periods or their kids… blah blah blah insert-funnies-about-her-act-here… and I’ll tell ya, if there’s one thing I learnt, it’s don’t cross-dress the night you have to take the kids to footy training! Fiona had us all rolling in the aisles, she nailed it!”
Wait a minute Judas, you said you weren’t one of those people? You’re exactly like one of those people. The only thing Fiona nails is her husband’s balls to the wall.

It’s not just Fiona. There’s Judith Lucy, Felicity Ward, Julia Zemiro, that large chick that used to be on Good News Week, that skinny chick that is currently on Good News Week, Paul McDermott the host of Good News Week (who are you kidding Paul, you have a bigger vagina than my mum), Julia Morris, Cal Wilson, Denise Scott, Kate Langbroek, Corrine Grant, the list goes on…

And when did Whoopi Goldberg land herself in this category? She used to be hilarious. Remember ‘Ghost’? Now she’s coming out with this business of “…then my nephew copied me and said ‘fuck’, pretty soon all the kids at the birthday party were chiming in ‘fuck fuck fuck’ and my sister told me I couldn’t babysit anymore”. Shush up and just say, “Molly. You in danger girl.”

I’m not saying there’s no such thing as an unfunny male comedian — Wil Anderson is not only a coke fiend but he is also rather sharp and witty. That multitasker cracks himself up. You know who’s funnier than Wil Anderson? The entire National Socialist German Workers’ Party. “Easy for you to sit behind your computer and trash talk people who put a lot of hard work and effort into their act. It takes a lot of courage to get up there and do that sort of thing. You couldn’t do it if you tried!”

What do you call a funny female comedian?
Dave Chappelle in drag.

“Knock knock. “
“Who’s there?”
“My period. “
“My period who? “
“Why are you crying?”

Ever notice how every problem we have in life starts with ‘Tam”?
Tampon. Tambourine. Tamper. Tampers. Tamy. Tampoline. Tam toilet seat is up.

So to answer your question: Yes I could do it if I tried. I just did it without trying. And I could probably charge the same price of admission and get the same number of people to my shows. But I’m not comfortable going through life being a talent-less hack. So I’ll take the high road and talk shit behind their backs until one of them challenges me to a duel.

Off Topic.

When I was a youngster I thought that al foil was pronounced alf foil. I figured it was named after A.L.F. the TV show because sometimes he would put aluminium foil on his little alien head.
“Yeah right. By ‘youngster’ I bet you mean only a year ago!” has to be considered the worst form of humour. It ranks right after the exclamation “Taxi!” when someone drops a glass. That should never be said unless you actually have to flag down a cab after your yiros on a large night out. And even then you’re yelling out “Then why is your light on you prick?”
I had a yiros a few weekends ago and instead of garlic sauce they put hummus. Terriorists. Wankers.
This whole rant is starting to sound like a Fiona O’Loughlin show. It’s a little too “Menapause and Muslims: Live on DVD”. Don’t know who she is? She’s a sharp and witty Australian comedian. And by sharp I mean “When she’s on stage”. By witty I mean “I’d gladly cop an axe to the face”.

No. Not here. This point deserves its own post.

Dear: Airways TV Show

Oh hai Airways!

I hear that you want to know all about a travel tale in the hopes that I will make some good TV for ya. No, I’m not taking a ‘Make A Wish Foundation’ kid to Luna Park in Melbourne nor will I attempt to smuggle 2kgs of Heroin in my butt, my story is something that has happened to at least every single Australian resident since Captain Hook landed in Dubbo on his spaceship in the 1600′s. You see, Tiger Airways rescheduled my flight a few months back without giving me a choice in the matter and now when I look on their website my original flight is still listed and available to book. Cheers. How’s that for a tale? Tantalizing? I know the person reading this is thinking “ha! Classic Tiger”, because chances are you’ve also been affected by Tiger’s incompetence. If you’re sitting next to the CEO tell him I have an awesome viral marketing campaign that could circulate on Redtube that details how to become an instant Mile High Club member. Simple: Just book a flight with Tiger and chances are you’ll get fucked pretty soon after.

Fin.

airways@seven.com.au Sent 02/02/11

Operation: Get On A Current Affair

Some people have some serious goals in life, like get a degree, make monies, have a family, etc. Mine is a little more simple (or so I thought), I want to get on A Current Affair.

I have had some cracking ideas in the past including (but not limited to) sugar levels in fruit juice, my neighbour has too many cats, my neighbour and/or myself are hoarders, I don’t want to pay this parking fine, what jeans will not make my butt look bigger in this, stress: the silent killer, reduce arthritis pain by meditating, this bloke is a dodgy labourer, a way to get rich quick and this is not a get rich quick scheme, how can I save money by doing simple things such as turning off my lights, I still don’t want to pay this parking fine, dust: the silent killer, natural remedies and why they don’t work, natural remedies and why they do work, get slim by walking around your clothesline,  don’t eat carbs, actually eat a lot of carbs, this guy has multiple wives and girlfriends: get him!, diabetes is bad for your health, why has the price of vegemite gone up in price, sugar levels in cereal, dodgy people doing dodgy deals with grainy footage, I borrowed $1 million dollars from the bank accidentally and can’t repay the loan so they’re going to re-possess my assets and this sort of thing is not on, the hidden fees in credit cards, small guy takes on big company over a bill he doesn’t feel like paying, deceased relative is charged 1 cent from Telstra, mobile phones: the silent killer…
Have I missed anything? Anyway, these were all my ideas, things that had actually happened to me and then they went and published all these stories and didn’t give me any credit. Not on my watch.

So the other day when something happened to me that I knew was a sure-fire way to get on ACA, I jumped at the opportunity. I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes! I received a letter in the post from someone who had my credit card details and they were trying to scam money out of me by getting me to call them and provide them with my expiry date and other personal details. I know, right. Finally a scam that ACA has never, ever covered! But what was my angle going to be? I couldn’t just write to them and get all high and mighty and say “This is a matter for the Australian Legal system, however in the first instance I will like you to weigh in on this case and perhaps give me some airplay to promote the real reason why I am on your prestigious show: to promote my business that automatically folds baby nappies for you. I put my faith in you Tracy Grimshaw.” No, they don’t want to hear that. They want to hear this, “I feel like I’m fighting this fight alone. No one can help me other than ACA. I am a helpless, Aussie battler and I just want to fire up on air and tell the flaming mongrels behind this that although I am broke and mildly retarded, this sort of business is not on!”

So this happened:

It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t heard anything! Did they see right through me? Was my grammar too correct? Am I not supposed to know when to use an apostrophe? Should I have said “for chrissakes, ill be fucked if i know what the shit is goin on!” So many questions! It’s such a shame, because I had the whole interview planned out from what I was going to wear (floral cardigan, mum jeans and sneakers) to the camera techniques (slow pan over the letter, high angle of me looking intently at the letter, shot of me on the phone and getting frustrated when it wouldn’t connect) and the best bit, the logie-winning speech: “I was sitting at home when I noticed the postie put the post in my letterbox. So I finished my drink, I was drinking at the time, and then I went to collect my mail. I opened it with a letter opener and pulled out the letter and read over it. My jaw dropped, like y’know, literally dropped to the  floor. Who was this bloke asking for money? Why me? What had I done? And why is the pura tap system so damn handy, have you seen the filter after it’s taken out? It’s all copper from the rust particles that it filters!” Notice the story cross-over? ACA would froth over that.

But now they’ll never get to froth and my story will go untold. For shame ACA. For shame. 

 

Free Okai.

I love free stuff. I love free stuff so much that I would rate it above the lady who gave birth to me. Jokes mum, you’re alright. But seriously, I just want to quit my job and go around finding freebies. Not in a “bag with wheels, strolling the streets for empty bottles” kind of way, those crazy cats are taking the joke too far. But perhaps creeping about rich neighbourhoods in search of a free flat screen TV. That’s what I call living the dream. Speaking of, I was driving past a busy intersection on my way to work a few Mondays ago, and there was this bloke on an island in the middle of the road in a deck chair and he was holding up a sign that said “LIVING THE DREAM”. Yes. Yes he was. Because we were all on our way to suckle at the corporate teat, whilst he had time to stick it to the man before breakfast. My hero.

What point was I trying to make again? Yeah free stuff. So I’m driving past my local small-business CD and record store the other day, and what perchance do I find at the front? Oh I’ll tell you: 4 record players and 2 CD players. Yes they were all missing needles and one of  them was sans power cord, but that’s still 6 more electronicals (sic) than you’ve found so suck on that! Some decent brands too, JVC, Kenwood and something called Okai. Okai? That reminds me of a .gif image I once saw of a cat playing table tennis against himself with the caption “O HAI. O RLY? YA RLY.” It was pretty awesome.
Even more off topic: My brother-in-law once had a brand of speakers from the middle ages called ‘Realistic’. He threw them out but I wish I had asked him for them. Then I could have started up an “Unnecessary Museum of Electronicals” in my backyard.

On topic (I think), I was cruising gumtree.com.au which is my favourite source of hilarious giveaways, featuring such freebie classics as “Ex-Battery Hen” and “Non-Slip Step”, where I came across the following: “Free DVD – Vatican Deception. FREE POST.” Now if it was pick-up, that would be somewhat understandable. Because it then could possibly classify as a documentary of some kind. But anyone who is willing to spend time, money and effort in spreading the bad news bears message that is the Vatican via Gumtree gets a sizable question mark next to them. That just screams the team behind the Good News bibles. I remember as a kid, I was all “Oh radical, free bible. Or free book for me to write my name in and never read, but perhaps occasionally press flowers of some kind in” or whatever useless past time I used to do as a childrens. So anyway, this is how I see it playing out:

Tracking device attached to DVD.
DVD posted.
DVD received.
Vatican Deception team swarms on target.
Target converted.
Target places ad on Gumtree for a free DVD with FREE POST.

It’s vicious cycle mang. I’m on to you. Got to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool me.

“The Best Night Out You’ll Ever Have!”

That’s the quote underneath an ad for Mama Mia.
Two words. First word: Sounds like ‘Puck’. Second word: Yeah, it’s ‘Off’.

So many things would rate above the supposed “BEST NIGHT OUT” that is a Mama Mia experience. Like, seeing Slash and Axl in a loving yet manly embrace at a bus stop. Or maybe finding $10 wrapped around an unopened and cold beer in the gutter. Or even eating a Whopper after midnight whilst watching this over and over again.

“Yes, but kind blogger on the world wide interwebs, you can’t judge something that you’ve never seen.”
I’ve never paid $100 to be kicked in the groin by a midget in steel caps boots wearing nothing but a party hat, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy that. I think ultimately people need to stop with the big calls when it comes to rating things. I would be more inclined to watch Mama Mia if the quote had read: “It’s OK I guess, just make sure you BYO snacks. Like a fruit roll up.” I would watch the shit out of that production! Because I love fruit roll ups.

Derulo < Nudge

What is a Jason Derulo?
No seriously, I don’t get it. After listening to some lame track where he repeats only what I can assume is his name about 12 times, I have come to the conclusion that I would rather listen to an autotuned Nudge from Hey! Dad. Holy hell that would possibly be the greatest thing ever. All 200+ episodes in autotune? Yes please.
Play him off Nudge. Show Derulo how it’s done.

How Did Paramore Get Past The Keeper?

You know how sometimes you meet a person and they’re a total dick. And I mean like a TOTAL DICK <end caps>. The only job they could ever apply for would be Wanted: Extroverted Wanker. Anyway, then you meet a few of their friends and before any words even fly out of their mouths you just know they’re knobheads by association. Well that is what we shall now refer to as the ‘Paramore Syndrome’: when one can be excused from rationally weighing up the pro’s and con’s before coming to the conclusion that something is not needed in their lives.
Allow me to apply this theory: Tweens are generally pretty shit right? Then some of them get involved in this Twilight business which automatically makes them even more shit. THEN some already established mediocre band gets on board the Twilight express, said shit tweens go out and ZOMGLOLZLUVTHISBAND and suddenly there’s 20,000 people at a supposedly decent music festival headlined by the great Faith No More yelling out “PARA-MORE! PARA-MORE!”

And I’m left declaring shenanigans.