Suburban Camouflage

Well this is pretty much the best website ever...

2006-10-14T15:32:00.001+10:00

http://www.employe-du-moi.org/journal/edm_rubrique.php3?id_rubrique=124

Well this is pretty much the best website ever...

2006-10-14T15:32:00.000+10:00

http://www.employe-du-moi.org/journal/edm_rubrique.php3?id_rubrique=124

Time to leap off the bandwagon.

2006-06-12T21:51:00.000+10:00

From SMH Online:

Give Socceroo snoozers a break: Iemma

NSW Premier Morris Iemma has urged employers to go easy on workers who turn up late for work tomorrow after watching the Socceroos' late-night clash with Japan.

Mr Iemma says workers should be given a break because it's been 32 years of frustration and disappointment for Australia in the World Cup.

Note to Morris Iemma: I don't care about your opinions on sport, you populist cunt. Stop trying to be Bob Hawke.

Note to SMH Online: Kindly stop milking the world cup for every possible story / angle - I am already sick of hearing about it.

Also, if you must publish such stories, could you at least illustrate them with more attractive photos than this one:

Harry Kewell rates his teammate's toupe out of ten

That's all

Margaret Pomeranz is senile and gives out too many five-star ratings

2006-03-20T10:41:00.000+11:00

"Squirters"

2006-03-08T22:55:00.000+11:00

Female ejaculation has long been a source of fascination for me. Maybe this is just because the concept is so foreign, or perhaps it's because I am, deep down, just a hardened pervert.
That said, I would like to think my interest in this physiological occurance is mainly academic. Specifially, three things about it intrigue me:

1) What is the... point of it?
2) Can female semen impregnate you?
3) Why was I never taught about this in high school?

Up till now, I have never actually seen an incidence of "squirting" and been forced to rely on anecdotal evidence about the phenomenom from friends. As you'd expect, such "evidence" is not particularly reliable, with one friend claiming 10% of women are... capable, and another bragging that he can make them do it three times out of four. In fact, that same friend even offered to capture on tape his girlfriend's next squirting adventure, and show it to me. Putting the ethical ramifications aside, I think this could be quite interesting, though I'll be sure to have an empty stomach when I watch it.

I was planning on ranting on about squirting for another few paragraphs, but I think I've exhausted the subject, so I may as well let you all know about my latest celebrity sighting.

Well, maybe using the word "celebrity" is a bit generous, seeing as his vehicle has been taken off the air, but I just happened to see Conrad Coleby at St Jeromes Laneway festival on Sunday. Conrad Who? you ask. Well, of course, he was the guy who ~~plays~~ played Adam "Roacutane" Wilde in my ex-favourite show headLand.

Conrad Coleby: Most likely not a squirter

Unfortunately his headLand co-star Matthew Walker was nowhere to be seen, so I didn't pay much attention. However if there are any Conrad Coleby enthusiasts out there, you'll be pleased to know he has lost the awful moptop haircut they made him wear in headLand. Also he is surprisingly short, and, judging from the way he was striding purposefully away from the stage Broken Social Scene were playing on, has appalling taste in music.

[Endnote: I just realised that the name "Conrad Coleby" sounds like it belongs in the credits of a porno film. Possibly one also starring "Casey Donovan". Hee!]

Though I'll try to win your affections with false modesty...

2006-02-27T22:12:00.000+11:00

The email I never got:

Fred,

It's awkward to write this, but you invested so much time in getting to know me, you deserve closure.

["Closure", I can hear you thinking. "While we're in the boardroom, why don't you just go ahead and tell me that you're reshuffling your priorities or downsizing me from your life"]

But I make no apologies for my vocabulary. After all, the only reason you were interested in me is that you were looking for somebody "sweet and kind, but not too bright". And indeed, I used flattery to hide my lack of intelligence. The fact that this worked (for a while, at least) is, I think, a poor reflection on you.

However my aim in writing this wasn't to make character judgements, so I'll get to the point. I just wanted to give you an explanation for why I refused to let you get to know me better. Basically, I was worried that if you got to know what I was really like, you'd lose interest. So, I kept up my facade, in the vain hope that it would provide an allure. It worked for a while, then - of course - you got bored. You started asking questions, and I climbed into my shell.

That's it, really. I know there's something inherently immature about telling you this in letter form, rather than face to face. I guess there always was something of the giggling teenage girl to me. Perhaps this accentuated our age differences - me acting younger than my years and you acting older.
Still, I hope we can keep in touch.

Signed.

n.

Oh Danna

2006-02-13T23:37:00.000+11:00

Liberal MP Danna Vale - who was last heard spruiking plans for a Gallipoli theme park on Victoria's Mornington Peninsula - has once again grabbed headlines for an equally ludicrous reason.

Danna Vale has backed moves for parliament to retain power of approval over the controversial abortion-inducing pill.

Mrs Vale argued that such a move would stop Australia from aborting itself out of existence and ultimately becoming a Muslim nation.

Ah the good old Liberals. When will they learn that scare tactics don't work? Oh, wait...

She goes on to preface another point by saying:

"I've actually read in The Daily Telegraph..."

I didn't really have an opinion on RU486 before this story dropped, but now I firmly hope that the amendment gets passed, just so I can buy one then go back in time and get Danna Vale's mother to take it.

Oh, and if the fact that she is a half-witted slag isn't enough of an argument to have Danna Vale retrospectively aborted, it should also be mentioned that she uses the word "guesstimate". There, case closed.

Another Wasted Sunday

2006-01-31T15:58:00.000+11:00

It was a majestic night. One which was not tainted by the buzz of insects, the drone of late-night television, or the idle chatter of children. Instead, it was left to wallow silently in its own brilliance.
It had rained that day, and the puddles that were all about were glowing with the light of the full moon, as if they were the eyes of a newborn kitten caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

Celeste Jacobs was, on this very night, out for a midnight walk due to her recent inability to gain meaningful sleep. The bush track she was walking down was a personal favourite of hers, and she knew every twist, every sudden fall, every crevace of it as though it were an extension of her own body.
Celeste was looking greatly appealing on this mild night. Her saucer shaped eyes were surrounded by the sort of smooth skin that is reminiscint of a ripe peach. If her skin was a peach, then her mouth was made up of two succulent strawberries, arranged so as convey a feeling of thoughtful yet harmless expression. Framing her face was a mass of golden curls, that simultaneously brought to mind images of 50’s movie divas, and also freshly made fairy floss.
Tonight, this beautful head was filled with the warm, innocent memories of younger years. Celeste’s minds eye was flashing from one image to another. Firstly, she was flying a kite with her friend Kate, then she was indulging in a piece of cake whilst surrounded by friends and family at a birthday party.

All of a sudden, Celeste was dragged from these pleasant thoughts by the wretched, yet inimitable sound of a panting beast. The sound was eerily familiar to the noises which had used to accompany the aftermath of an amicable backyard swimming race in the family pool. This similiarity sent Celeste spiralling off amongst another crop of happy memories. After several minutes she was rudely wrenched from these reminiscences by a dischevelled old man who was poking at her back with a kitchen knife. On closer inspection, the man turned out to be Gloomy Jim, an unhappy nomad who had recently moved into the unoccupied cake store behind Celestes’ Spanish style villa. Many townsfolk had ironically remarked that Gloomy Jim was hanging around like a bad smell. (A comment which was especially witty because as well as being an unwelcome presense, Jim had obviously not bathed for quite some time).

Now, with every movement of the knife into her body, Celeste was uttering a low moan, not dissimiliar to the one a hungry pet makes when it has just been presented with a tasty offcut of beef, courtesy of the local butcher.
Gloomy Jim was revelling in the chaos. His knife-weilding antics were the most fun he had enjoyed in a good while. He remarked to himself that if Celeste truly was a peach, as the texture of her skin suggested, then he was whipping up one hell of a fruit salad.
(Jim allowed himself a quick chuckle at the subtle irony of this statement, then plunged his kitchen knife deep into the girl's pancreas.)
After a good ten minutes of similar behaviour, Jim reasoned that there was nothing more that could be done with the knife. He placed it down, and set to work with his hands.

He tore the young lady apart as if he were a young child greedily attacking a carefully wrapped present from Santa at Christmas. After a while, all that remained of young Celeste were thousands of postage stamp sized pieces of flesh, that resembled the confetti commonly thrown with love and abandon at a wedding party.
Afterwards, (as often happens when evil people have committed some sort of atrocity or murderous act) Gloomy Jim was struck down with a sudden twinge of guilt. His mind, which had previously been as clear as the night sky he was under, was now rapidly filling with clouds of self-doubt.
Perhaps, he pondered, that young girl had more to offer the world than the frantic minutes of satisfaction I gained from rendering her lifeless on that bush track tonight.

Ah well, Gloomy Jim thought to himself as he scrubbed at the rose coloured stains on his forearms, At least she won’t ever again have to endure that sinking feeling one gets as the sun sets on another wasted Sunday.

bigmouth strikes again

2005-12-19T20:22:00.000+11:00

and now I know how Joan of Arc Felt
as the flames rose
to her Roman nose
and her ipod started to melt.

My punishment for not watching "Headland"...

2005-12-16T00:20:00.000+11:00

Sunday

2005-12-11T18:48:00.000+11:00

To all the people who fussed about Schapelle Corby, complaining about her conviction to your friends on public transport (loudly, with a copy of the Tele draped over your lap) and threatening to cancel travel plans to Bali... I have only one thing to say to you.

Hahaha
Hahahahahahaaha
HAhahahahahahahahahaha

How does it feel to be taken for a ride, you gullible freaks? And by a gold-coast slapper and her rat-raced family, no less.
God, I can't believe people actually set up websites devoted to this fraud. They must be shattered.

Speaking of bogans, is anyone else embarrassed at how lame our Sydney racial riots have been? So far as I know there haven't been any sniper attacks / car burnings / impalings yet, however the news reports are painting the situation as if it were happening in Paris or LA. Reading that SMH story, the subtext is that the whole thing was pretty pathetic. The author draws attention to the fact that only six people were arrested, and police only had to use capsicum spray on one person. Oh, then there's this:

Roads have been closed down in the area and some traffic lights are out.
Police are also standing guard at the kiosk adjoining the surf club, where roller doors have been pulled down as the violence continues.

Yes, this is a racial riot, Sydney style (cringe). That said, I probably would have gone to cronulla to check it out, if I weren't working today. Though I don't think I would have known who to cheer for... the bogans or the "middle easterns".

what a drag...

2005-12-01T00:48:00.000+11:00

So anyway, this drag queen somehow discovered my msn details, added me and has been happily chatting away since. I've been humouring him, taking the chance to satisfy some of my curiosities about dragdom. However... just then I seem to have done something to offend him, but I can't for the life of me pinpoint where the conversation went awry. See what you think.

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
hey

fred says:
hey

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
how you doing?

fred says:
not bad, you?

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
in agony

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
tireder than a corpse

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
but otherwise fantastic

fred says:
cool

fred says:
how'd the show go on sunday?

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
oh great, it was a big benefit for Polly, re: her teeth

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
didnt raise as much as hoped, but every little bit helps lol

fred says:
what's the go with the teeth?

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
hers have fallen out

fred says:
AIDS?? Heroin??

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
age

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
lack of floss

fred says:
gross. and you are supporting this cretin why?

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
bye

Clockwork Cabaret - I knew I smelled a boy says:
no-one speaks of Polly like that

Uninspired ramblings (there, I said it first)

2005-11-30T20:32:00.000+11:00

Remember that job I was whinging about a couple of posts down? Well thankfully I found a better one just in the nick of time, so was never actually reduced to joining ranks with the chain-smoking, stained-tracksuit-wearing, westie-accented girls who worked there.

(sigh of relief)

Another plus is that I am able to tell people about this new job without cringing with embarrassment. Oh... and I also have access to free stuff and there are some cool-ish people working there and... fuck it, I should stop fooling myself and just admit already that casual jobs are meant to be endured, not enjoyed. Working is such a drag anyway, I'm sure there's a better way to pay the bills (and I plan on finding it). Unfortunately (or fortunately) I have some level of self-respect, otherwise I probably would have sold nude photos of myself over the internet to barred-up old men by now.

Ha! if that doesn't get the google searchers turning up in droves, I'm not sure what will. (Sidenote: I think that Matthew Walker has found this site after googling himself... either that or he has some VERY obsessive fans. Anyway Matt, if you're reading this, feel free to drop me a line and let me know when you'll be at purple sneakers next so I can ~~stalk you~~ say hi)

God, I can't believe I've stooped so low that I'm now trying to score cheap laughs by using the strikeout tag, which is ~~only ever ever used by lesbians and other people who get their hair cut at the barber~~ a lower form of humour than celebrity bashing. I think I'll just stop this post before things get any worse.

Indie kids.

2005-11-19T14:16:00.000+11:00

I have such a love/hate relationship with them. On the one hand, I have disdain for their expensive tousled haircuts, matching converse sneakers and band t-shirts, but then... I have to admit, I probably fit in with that crowd better than any other.

Last night a friend was in from out of town, so I took him off to a play then we decided to check out purple sneakers, the ultimate indie poseur night. Obviously, to emphasise the underground-ness of the event, the front doors to the hotel were sealed off, and to get in we needed to cut through the carpark. The place was fucking packed with identical looking scene kids, and a couple of obvious drug dealers in diesel shirts and baseball caps.
Whenever I go to things like this, the playlist is always exactly the same. There are inevitably about two Cure songs played every hour, then - predictably - the most famous tunes by The Buzzcocks, Joy Division, Talking Heads, and that one Ramones song that is listenable ("I wanna be sedated"... i think it's called).

Actually, the night wouldn't have been worth blogging about, except that Matthew Walker...( the hot guy off Channel Seven's "Headland", my new guilty-viewing-pleasure ) was there. I felt a bit sorry for him... I mean, after starring on a national tv soap you might expect a bit of celebrity, however nobody seemed to know / care who he was. If anyone's interested, he was wearing a tight-ish white polo shirt and looked damn fine. In fact, I actually considered making a pass at him, but decided against it (I'm already regretting that).

Eventually we had to leave, cause almost everyone in there seemed to be on heat* and I wasn't in the mood to pick up. Still, I'll keep the place in mind in case I ever feel the urge to score a cheap root and/or hear indie "classics" being played through a shitty P.A.

*Seriously, it was worse than the midnight shift.

2005-11-15T12:23:00.000+11:00

Oh god. I have the worst fucking holiday job in living memory. I won't go into details, because you'd probably all fall off your chairs laughing. But suffice to say, I'm in a race against time to get as much work as I can before they invent a robot that can do my job more efficiently.

After reading a Hunter S. Thompson biography, I have been somewhat inspired to write some freelance articles, so I think I might have a brainstorming session then fire off some pitches to various outlets. Cause, y'know, my writing is more witty and entertaining than half the shit that gets printed, right? Well... even if I get shot down at each turn, the effect will still be 1000 times less demeaning than my current employment.

*crawls into corner to sob*

2005-11-10T16:02:00.000+11:00

Quirkie emerged out of blog-retirement, and has promptly tagged me with a "meme". As far as I can tell, this involves writing 20 things about myself that you might not know. Seeing as this isn't a particularly personal blog, that's probably just about everything. So, this shouldn't be hard, eh?

1. I am not a beach person. This is partly because I don't enjoy parading around shirtless in front of large groups of people.

2. For this same reason, I don't particularly like gay bars.

3. I haven't bought a new piece of clothing in about six months.

4. About 15 minutes ago I suffered the most embarrassing experience of my life. I was attempting to climb onto a pool seat, fully clothed, and clutching a paperback novel. Of course, I overbalanced and tipped into the pool, while a builder next door (who was conveniently up a ladder at the time) stifled a laugh. Oh, and to add an extra degree of embarrassment, the book was "The Da Vinci Code".

5. My spelling now is worse than it was when I was 12.

6. I often wish I had been born into a rich English family in the mid 19th century.

7. The band I am in has released two albums and played a bunch of shows around Sydney.

8. I've been playing the bass guitar for seven years.

9. Despite 7 & 8, I still don't understand music scales.

10. I desperately want a keytar. Unfortunately they haven't been made since the 80's, so I am reduced to trawling through ebay looking for one.

11. While I am being all consumer-ish, I may as well point out that I really want a nokia n91 mobile phone. This is unusual as I rarely get excited about phones, or gadgets in general.

12. I don't care what you say, I can tell the difference between CD quality and mp3. This is why I refuse to buy an ipod. Well... that, and I can't afford one.

13. Every time I see someone wearing a pair of converse all-star sneakers, I cringe involuntarily. The same goes for when I see somebody wearing a ramones t-shirt, denim shorts or a cheap polo shirt with the collar flicked up.

14. I HATE emo kids, however in the recent past I have been accused of having emo-hair. I prefer to think of my hair as more new-wave, ala the singer from Franz Ferdinand.

15. That reminds me. I was watching Australian Idol the other night, and noticed that the token punk/ emo kid totally looks like a lesbian. I then realised that he looks scarily like one lesbian in particular. Behold!

16. My two most recent celebrity crushes have been Sonny Bill Williams and Fiona Apple.

17. The other day I nagged my friend until she agreed to organise a date with her cute friend Toby. The date is tonight.

18. Trying to teach yourself a language is difficult, I have discovered.

19. I had huge plans for the holidays - but I've been finished with uni for two days now and have done approximately sweet fanny all.

20. If I ever become a concert promoter or a saxaphone player in a jazz band, it will just be so I can have an excuse to grow a seedy male ponytail.

Kate Bush Peels an Apple.

2005-11-04T17:47:00.000+11:00

Only last week I was lamenting the fact that I haven't heard any decent new music lately, with everything being either unoriginal or uninspiring.

Fortunately this has since been rectified. It began with me getting my hands on a leaked copy of the new Kate Bush double album, "Aerial", which is brilliant. It's impossible to describe, so I won't even try... however I recommend anyone who is a fan of her early stuff get hold of a copy. I'm considering buying it for my dad as a christmas "present", then stealing it back for myself.

Then, just today, I stumbled across the ultimate indie music-snob's prize, courtesy of Stereogum. You see, apparently the late John Peel - radio presenter, music fan - had 142 favourite singles (proclaimed by Stereogum as the 'coolest playlist ever') that he kept in a box in his house.
Anyway... so someone has managed to upload all of these singles to a single zip file, which I was able to download, and well... it's fantastic. Early favourites are Bobby Lee Trammell's "don't you know I love you", Boards of Canada's "Chinook" and Johnny Adams' "I wish it would be rain". That said, pretty much everything on the list is amazing... I was especially glad / surprised to see "Everybody's talking" - one of my alltime favourite songs - on there.
Anyone who's interested in getting the collection should have a dig around on this site.

Fiona Apple has finally released the clip for her new single, 'O' Sailor', and it's waaay more high-budget and extravagant than I was expecting. The concept is basically her skulking about on a gypsie ship, peering out from doorways then climbing inside a giant chandelier and finally joining the dancing throng (including, incongruously, a massively fat man in a stripey top) underneath her.
Here are a few of my favourite shots from the video:

2005-11-02T23:36:00.000+11:00

Huzzah! I had a haircut on a whim today and I believe it looks rather good. My fringe is no longer flapping in my eyes in an emo-esque fashion, which is a plus. On the downside, it also became apparent to me - with all the solarium tanned hairdressers swanning about - how hideously pale my skin is. (note to self: go outside more).

I should point out before going any further that I am not a Bulldogs fans, nor am I am rugby league fan at all. However I am a Sonny Bill Williams fan (though I can't decide if I prefer him before or after the new tattoos).
So as I was flicking through a copy of the Telegraph this morning (using tongs, Philip Adams style) I was interested to see this article:

FOOTBALLER Sonny Bill Williams was banned from driving for five months for drink-driving yesterday after the court heard he clocked up a series of offences.

Waverley Local Court was told he was caught behind the wheel of a sponsor's 4WD after consuming up to 10 vodka drinks at a fashion launch. As a P-plater the alcohol limit was zero.

Which would place him about... infinity times over the limit, right? Anyhow, I noted three things from the article in question:

1. I love how he has such a rueful expression on his face in the photo attached to that article. I also quite like his suit, although his hair looks disturbingly like it has been fashioned into a faux-hawk, which will obviously need to go. Also, by the looks of things he is using that gross crunchy hair gel that most people tire of by year eight.

2. I'm a little disappointed that he wasn't sentenced to jail time, because then I would have been able to fantasise about him getting reamed in the shower block.

3. Also, I find it interesting that he spent the night at a fashion show. Doesn't seem quite right does it? A macho football player who spends his time at fashion shows.
A macho football player with a penchant for posing limp-wristed who spends his time at fashion shows?
I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

2005-10-31T13:57:00.000+11:00

So Robbie Williams wants to charge people $60 to get a look at his schlong?

While some might say that his music is the audio equivalent of a flaccid penis, is it really justifiable to charge the equivalent of 2 CDs (purchased at HMV, not JB hi-fi) for this dubious pleasure?

If anyone is actually interested, you can hang on to your money, and just click here (penis shaking occurs at the end of the clip).

Three mini-posts.

2005-10-27T22:57:00.000+10:00

1. Observant readers will have noticed that, where I used to have Wollongong as my location in the "about me" box, I now have Sydney. No, this is not a mistake, I have officially moved back to Sydney.

And fuck am I glad.

At first I thought I might get a little teary leaving the place affectionately referred to as "Mount Druitt by the sea", seeing as its been my home for the past year. However, I've realised that this just isn't going to happen. Maybe I'll post a more reflective entry about Wollongong in the future, but at the moment I'm just happy to be out of there, and in a city with some form of culture, some chance of employment, and where you can go to the supermarket and not have to put up with the spectacle of two bogans wrestling each other for the last can of baked beans on the shelf (true story).

2. I am very excited about 2 new things that have just been released to CD/ DVD.

- Brideshead Revisited: All six episodes of the original Granada TV series have just been released in Australia and can be bought as a three DVD box set. Anyone who's a fan of excellent writing, quality acting and thinly-veiled homoerotica should check it out.

- Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine: The long-awaited album will finally... FINALLY be released in Australia on the 30th of this month (I've chosen to ignore the fact that some people have already managed to get their dirty hands on an import copy). Early versions of the album will come with a bonus DVD too... my goodness! I've heard a rumour she's touring here in the new year, so here's hoping.

3. Around this time of year David Jones spam every possible outlet trying to find willing slaves for "christmas casual positions". If you are offered such a position, do not accept it - I can assure you that if you do you will be treated like a cheap tampon. They offer people contracts from early December to February, however the only work most Christmas Casuals ever see is three days before Christmas. I could rave on for hours about why David Jones are a shitty employer, but instead I'll just let this picture do the talking.

Ok, so google image search doesn't always come up with the goods.

Soy-r Grapes

2005-10-19T23:02:00.000+10:00

Just when you thought things around here couldn't get any more exciting... I hereby present to you my thoughts on Soy Milk.

Or more specifically, Soy Milk Discrimination (S.M.D). You see, I've been drinking soy milk for about a year now, and in that time I've been the victim of several cruel taunts and disadvantages that have occurred as a result of my drinking habits. I guess people figure that now racism and anti-semitism are off-limits, they need to find a new target for their angst. Hence, S.M.D. In case you think I'm imagining this, I've prepared three examples.

1. Soy Milk "surcharge" at cafes:
Whenever I order a soy latte or a soy cappucino at a coffee shop, there is invariably a 20-30c surcharge tacked on to the bill. Now, with my ridiculous coffee habit, this can add up to almost $1.50 a week. Apparently the justification for this is that Soy Milk is more "expensive"... however it is quite clearly an incidence of S.M.D

2. Soy Milk cartons with inadequate pouring spouts that slurp milk onto you when you are using them.
Anyone who has attempted to pour a tall glass of "So Good" will know what I am talking about. The pourer is left with small splotches of milk all over him/her, creating the impression that someone with a Prince Albert just delivered a money shot above them. Again, S.M.D.

3. Ignorant non-soy drinkers...
...who claim that soy milk tastes like grass clippings, liquid ass, etc. I'll have you fuckers know that cow milk is about 10 000 times more disgusting. Do you realise that the cow's milk you pour on your cereal was actually squeezed from the udder of a cow, against its will. That before it is chemically altered, it has revolting chunks of crap in it, and is approximately the colour of margarine. That is it not even meant for adult cows, let alone adult humans.

So all you soy-milk haters... shut the fuck up, and have a think about what you are putting in your own mouth.

2005-10-08T22:00:00.000+10:00

If you have ever wondered what the exact cost of human dignity is, I can now officially tell you the answer:

US$221

You see, that is how much one pays for an Ipod nano. I mention this because that is exactly what the attention-seeking American bitch mentioned in this article bought prior to throwing a party. Once the party was underway, she started a round-robin competition, whereby the revellers had to do something "gross", like giving a lap dance to the member of the same sex, so they could advance to the next round.

So far, so good... I guess. All good clean fun.

Obviously, they got more and more drunk, and the stunts necessary to advance to the next round became increasingly ribald. However, not even the most stong-stomached degnerate could have envisaged what the eventual winner, Jeff Schneidman, had to endure to claim the Ipod. At this point, I quote directly from the article:

"The victor, 21-year-old Glover Park resident Jeff Schneidman, shaved his head and endured one most-humiliating act: a golden shower.

...

“Jeff was a champ,” says [...]*, 22, the contestant who urinated on Schneidman’s chest and face. “He really earned it.” "

Through a spot of googling, I was able to find a picture of [...]* (the guy who delivered the "golden shower". That's him on the right:

[source]

Now I know that being pissed on is never good... but if it must happen, wouldn't you prefer it to be done by someone attractive, rather than some gawking nerd with a scraggy beard and a pair of circa-1997 emo glasses?

And to think, all this for a gadget with a street price of... US$221

*Update: Name removed at request. If Jeff "human urinal cake" Schneidman is reading this, and would also like to be disassociated from the event... he just needs to fire off an email.

Irritating cliches are the new black

2005-09-29T18:35:00.000+10:00

People never cease to appall me.

I was at a party last night, and this really awkward looking girl wandered over. She asked what school I used to go to, and where did I live. I told her. She then paused, and said:

"Ooooh. Are your parents really rich?"

What the fuck? What self-respecting person actually says that?
Well, I guess she was a bit of a westie... but still.

Then later in the night, in an unrelated (but equally annoying) incident, I had this conversation with a friend:

Friend: Oh, Toby thought you were cute.

Me: Toby???

Friend: Yeah... that guy who was standing over there (points), wearing a blue cardigan thing?

Me: You mean the really hot one?

Friend: yeah...

Me: The one who just left?

Friend: yeah.

Me: ...

Me: Fuck!

my moist debacle

2005-09-21T19:29:00.000+10:00

My blogging has become so sporadic of late... (though I'm still not as slack as some people). These days, it just takes a special occassion to compell me to log in and hammer the keyboards.

As that arresting intro just hinted, today was such a day. What happened? Well, I finally did my washing. This might not seem that earth-shattering, but when you consider that today I had no clean pairs of underpants to wear so was forced to go without, you can see the significance.

So I trundled off to the laundromat, dirty washing under my arm, gold coins in one hand and a 1.4L container of "surf" in the other. Seperated my stuff into two washing machines, put the "surf" and the coins in the appopriate places. No incident yet.
When this was done I put all the stuff in the dryer. They spun around in there for about 40 minutes... then I took them out, packed them into a bag and came home.

It was only after I arrived home that I realised what I had failed to notice at the laundromat. The fucking clothes weren't dry. Not at all. In fact they were possibly wetter than when they went in the dryer. It is for this reason that I am currently wearing a pair of wet 2(x)ist undies, with dripping shirts hanging all around and the prospect of a night between wet sheets looming ahead of me. Fucking hell.

The only thing redeeming this situation is the fact that The Boat People's new album is playing in the background. I can't get enough of this band... although I admit the title of their new album (yesyesyesyesyes) is painfully awkward.

Also, I know this is verging on Dawei's territory, but I just had to reproduce this Ian Thorpe snapshot I saw in SMH online.

The reason for his hideous Logies undercut-mullet is now apparent. That is, it was to divert attention from his rapidly retreating hairline. One wonders what will happen to his ranges of mineral water, perfume, underpants etc. now that the person endorsing them is effectly a bald-headed lecher. And once the revenue from these products dries up, will he finally... FINALLY.. feel compelled to drag his mincing, lisping ass out of the closet?

I can't think of a good way to end this post... so I'm just going to link to a Darpism post about Ian Thorpe. Here's a quote from it...

"It is a highly comedic situation when a person is denying their homosexuality yet half of gay Sydney is acutely aware of the precise dimensions of the “Pink Thorpedo”. It’s a whopper apparently."

I want to befriend....

2005-09-06T19:52:00.000+10:00

1) Black, mo-hawked female drummer in a funk/jazz band.

2) Leathery-skinned, incredibly rich widow (aged 55+) whose sugar daddy husband has long since departed, leaving her with a massive bank balance to spend on overseas trips on which I would accompany her.

3) Vapid but entertaining male model, who would introduce me to his hot model friends and procure free clothing for me.

4) Intellectual, notepad-scribbling type with a beard, who despises trendies and uses unfashionable drugs like acid and benzedrine.

If you fit any of these descriptions, fire off an email to fredaustere at hotmail.com and we can work out the details.

you know what this is? It's a celebration, bitches.

2005-09-04T01:06:00.000+10:00

My priorities are seriously fucked up.

I just woke up, at midnight on a saturday night after a six hour nap, and what was the first thing I said to myself?

No, it was not what the fuck are you doing at home in your pyjamas at 12 o'clock on a saturday night, you fucking loser.

Rather, it was damn... I just slept through Channel Nine's re-screening of the original "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" and I forgot to tape it.

One might ask what I'm doing at home anyway. And this would be a valid question, seeing as I'm a spritely teenage lad, currently living in a big-ish city (Sydney) and not so hideously deformed as to require me to permanently take refuge in my basement, emerging only to fetch groceries and grope grandmothers.

Well the fact is I've kind of lost touch with all the people I used to hang out with in Sydney. Also, the quality of people who I still do stuff with here is seriously low. This can be evidenced by the excuse used by the friend who I was meant to be seeing last days with tonight, but who pulled out just as I was about to leave for the cinema.

"Ummmmm.... hey man.... I just woke up, and I totally can't see. Like my eyes just aren't functioning... so I won't be able to drive to the cinema. You can come over and have dinner with me and my mum if you'd like.... oh, you don't want to, that's cool. I guess we'll have to catch up some other time [clonk]

By some hideous coincidence, another "friend" (and I use the term loosely) of mine then dropped around, with an exciting invitation. You see, this friend is a born-again christian, and wanted to take me along to a Christian convention tonight. I've been to similiar things in the past, and all they do is scream at you then attempt to convert any non-believers. I didn't have the heart to tell him exactly why I didn't want to go, so just faked an illness then sent him on his merry way.

Suffering from a mood that was equal parts despair, boredom and anxiety, I then retired to my room to sleep for an hour before Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory began.

Now to get to the point of todays post.

A few things that annoy me:

1. People who casually let slip that they are in a band after you've been talking to them for only a few minutes. This is based on the premise that somehow being in a band - regardless of how crap the music might be - makes a person interesting. Pfffftt... unless they play electric harp in a be-bop band, I don't want to know about it.

2. Industrie polo shirts with collars that are ultra-small, so that they can be flicked up without damaging the wearers jock-hawk / impeccable indie mullet.

3. Three and a half star ratings. These are popular for film and music reviewers, as they don't require any firm opinion... but this is exactly what people read reviews for! If something is 4 stars it is worth checking out, or if it is 3 stars it is probably best avoided unless you don't have a choice. But a 3 1/2 rating tells you nothing about the film/ CD in question... aside from the fact that the person who reviewed it is a spineless and uninspiring loser.
My hate for Megan "Birds Nest" Spencer stems from her love of 3 1/2 star ratings.

Stop the Presses!

2005-08-19T15:22:00.000+10:00

Two new Fiona Apple tracks available for streaming

Parting Gift

Oh Sailor

The new Album Extraordinary Machine finally has a release date... October 4!

twisting like a corkscrew

2005-08-09T21:27:00.000+10:00

Before I forget, I highly recommend you all go download (and by download, I mean legally purchase) the track "Just play Music" by Big Audio Dynamite.

In case you haven't been able to tell, my enthusiasm for this blog has wavered somewhat. I'd love to be able to blame this on lack of time, but seeing as it only takes 15 minutes or so to fire off a blog update I'd be lying if I said this. To be honest, the idea of writing for an audience of strangers lost it's lustre for a while there. Though I think that was exactly my problem... conciously writing for an audience. So from now on I'll try to put that out of my mind (I'd still appreciate some comments though).

A couple of week ago I was home for uni holidays and looking through some of the things on my bookshelf. I found this folder full of stuff that I'd written from age 5-7. There were poems, short stories, letters to friends overseas (I had a very movesome childhood). Of course a wave of nostalgia hit me and I felt compelled to read all of them. Most of the stories and poems I'd penned were just shoddy replicas of Enid Blyton / Roald Dahl favourites, but what struck me was the naivity and wonder they were filled with.
Of course, I know that I physically created these things... they were in a folder in my room and most of them had my name at the end of them. I just can't make a connection between the kid who wrote these beautiful things, and the jaded adult-lescent I've become. Back then I was full of energy and creativity. Now when I can be bothered to put pen to paper, I just come out with this awful self concious tripe or nothing at all. The transition from my age-seven-self to me now has been slow, and it takes something like that folder to make me realise how stark the contrast is.

There is no way I would want to be seven again. I like a lot of the knowledge and experiences I have, and I like being respected and treated like an adult. I just wish it would be possible for me to shrug off some of the cynicism I've accumulated over the years. Cynicism isn't natural; it's a reaction to failure and fear of not being accepted. It's cowardly and I need to get rid of it.

If I can do this, and regain just a little slither of my younger self, I think I'll have a fair chance of avoiding a full-blown quarter life crisis.

things I hate, pt 2.

2005-07-20T15:42:00.000+10:00

Update: it has been brought to my attention that this post was unfunny, unnecessarily catty and un...fathomably bad. Kudos to Quirkie for pointing out that I was slipping further and further into a tragic-yet-all-too-common cliche. A post that isn't based around fashion criticism will be forthcoming soon.

Don't look back in anger

2005-07-10T00:06:00.000+10:00

Yes, I'm still alive.

The reason for my month long blogging hiatus is the university holidays, which have coincided with me working like a bitch to pay off my musical adventures, falling in / out of love, spitroasting an insecure South American exchange student* and generally jaunting about the place like the jetsetting 21st century playboy I am.**

In the midst of all this revelry, I've still managed to find the time to heartlessly flame another blogger and pose a probing question to a prominent gay rights campaigner.

Ok, so I realise this post is the most pathetic thing since Mariah Carey's drawn on abs, but I'm out of practise. Give me a break.

*No, I'm not proud of myself.

**Ok, so I actually spent a better part of the holidays on msn, talking to near-strangers while "researching" big brother gossip on the net. Bite me.

Mercedes Corby has a really small head.

2005-06-12T19:50:00.000+10:00

I was going to try and justify this post, but gave up trying when I realised the sole point of it is to heartlessly slag off Mercedes Corby, the sister of 'damsel in distress' Schapelle Corby. More specifically, I just wanted to point out that she is really really ugly.

Mercedes Corby grossly overestimates the diameter of her own head.

For cripes sake!! The woman looks more like a rat than a rat. Those chompers could cut glass. And she is so god-awfully emaciated that she must have lived on nothing but mineral water and high-grade heroin for years.

People this ugly should not be allowed to reproduce.

In the wake of the media circus surrounding her genetically superior sibling, there has been much talk of a Schapelle-themed telemovie. Personally I think this is a great idea, and look forward to seeing it on the Ten network. However, it begs the question of who might play the role of Mercedes. I'd like to kick things off with a few suggestions:

Dannii Minogue

Jocelyn Wildenstein

or perhaps,

Australian Idol's Courtney Act.

If you have any other suggestions, please leave them in the comments.

I want a man in a skinny piano-key neck tie.

2005-06-11T01:09:00.000+10:00

Oh, how the mighty have fallen!!

For any other situation, this statement might seem overblown, cliched and indeed unnecessary. However, things have rolled so violently out of control, reached such dire proportions, that a normal, uncliched statement would just not do the situation justice.

I am talking, of course, about the site traffic for Suburban Camouflage. It brings a nostalgic tear to my eye to think that only a fortnight ago I was bragging to you all about the 320+ visitors this site was reeling in daily. Contrast this with my total hit count for yesterday, a measly 20.

What could be the reason for this humiliating fall from grace? Perhaps my rampant egotism isn't striking quite the chord with the Australian public that I expected. Or perhaps I just shouldn't post trashy reviews about trashy pop stars that turn off potential readers.

So, in an effort to push last weeks travesty of a post further down the page, I present to you....

Things I've seen and heard.

Foo Fighters - In your Honor

What the fuck? They think they can keep their old fans happy with a disc of 10 familiar sounding "rockers", and appeal to the emo crowd with a second disc of piss-weak acoustic songs. I'm not fooled. At all.
Dave Grohl has lost all idea of what makes a good song, and indeed a good album. He clearly needs to be shot... *Courtney Love, I'm looking at you*.
Another thing: I'm sick of is American bands foisting their inferior spelling on us... to Australians, it's spelt "honour", not "honor". System of a Down are also guilty of the same crime, courtesy of their new album Mesmerize.

Coldplay - X&Y

It makes me physically angry that such great production is wasted on these 13 very average songs, with appallingly bad lyrics to boot, eg. "is there anybody out there who / is lost and hurt and lonely too" (and yes, that was the sound of me throwing up).
Next please.

The Mars Volta - Frances The Mute

What a brilliant album. Maybe not for everyone (and I don't mean that in an elitist music-snob way, just that it's not to everyone's taste), but I find it hard to look past the heavy metal instrumentation, 15 minute mini rock-symphonies, screaming vocals and pristine production.

White Stripes - Get Behind me Satan.

More of the same from this overrated band. However, it should be enough to keep overweight, pasty, stripy sock / band t-shirt wearing rock chicks happy. And of course, they (and their insipid emo trophy boyfriends) will rave ceaselessly about it, repeating favourite lines from reviews they've read.
Meg still can't drum. And she still has a face like a dropped pie.

Ford Madox Ford - The Good Soldier

F.M.F was a friend of Joseph Conrad, and was also the main literary hero of Grahame Greene. In this novel he is at the top of his game, writing about a doomed relationship with a skill that defies description. So I won't even try.

Alain De Botton - How Proust can change your life.

It's hard to enjoy a book when you are embarrassed to be seen reading it in public. The literary equivalent of fast food.

That's right, take it all off honey

Ben Lee live review.

2005-05-28T11:02:00.000+10:00

wow... that last entry dated quickly. Still, I can't complain... thanks to a wave of Schapelle related hysteria, Camouflage had its biggest single day hitcount so far (320 for anyone who's interested). Pretty impressive huh? Almost puts me in the league of Tim Blair. Which makes me wonder... when do start earning an income from this thing?
But I jest. I am not doing this for any monetary gain. No, I am motivated purely by an unadulterated sense of love for you, dear readers (all 320 of you). As a small token of my affection, I am going to post a review that I wrote last week for a Ben Lee show. I make no apologies for the unfocused and self-obsessed nature of this piece. It was written in about 45 minutes just after I got home from the show in question. In true gonzo style, I hereby present it to you... unedited and in its original glory.

Ben lee / The hampdens / New buffalo -
UOW unibar, 19th May 2005

Let me start by saying that I wanted to see the support bands tonight. I really did. I mean, 'The Hampdens' is a pretty cool name for a band, and don't New Buffalo have that song, you know... the one that was played on triple J a bit with the chorus that goes... oh, I don't know.

It wasn't my fault, you know. My ride to the show was late, and my only other option
was to hike 40 minutes to the show by myself in the cold and well, what support band is worth doing that for... cool name and JJJ airplay or not.

So I got to the show in the gap between new buffalo and Ben Lee. Went to the bar and grabbed a couple of exorbitantly priced drinks (seriously, $9 for a James Squire and a rum and coke... who the hell does this place think it is... the art house??).

Ever the alcoholic, I swallowed my objections and bought the drinks, then my companions and I wandered down in front of the stage and attempted to blend in. This was easier for them than me. You see, measuring in at 6 foot 1, I am always somewhat conspicious at live shows. I have been even more self-concious of my height since last years Splendour in the Grass, when during Franz Ferdinand, a girl asked me to kneel down as her and her friends couldn't see past me. Of course I didn’t, but the whole ordeal has left me very conscious of whether I’m standing in front of people at shows. It’s not so much that I’m worried about them missing the show (though I am a bit), it’s more that I find the idea of a crowd of people staring at the back of my head slightly offputting.. I’m no exhibitionist y’know.

I usually get around this problem by finding another tall person in the crowd and standing next to them.
Safety in numbers, as they say.
So I did this tonight, and was then able to then sip my drinks (which, did I mention, were grossly overpriced) in relative comfort, enjoying the amiable company of my companions.

That was, at least, until Mr Lee took the stage. Amusingly,he was greeted with hysterical shrieking and cries of "I love you Ben" from a number of ladies of questionable taste. The rest of us just clapped politely, trying not to mess up out hair and wordlessly analysing his outfit.

[For anyone who's interested, he was wearing ahorizontally striped sweater, cool jeans (I tried to no avail to catch the label), all star sneakers and was sporting a messy afro hairdo that cunningly disguised his wingnut ear].

As he broke into some acoustic song, I took the chance to look around and survey the audience. They were young, well dressed, generally clutching a significant other and occasionally sporting a faux-hawk (if they were male). There was this one guy who held my attention for most of the first song. He was normal enough looking, except for a rather prominant underbite, which gave him the impression of being the missing link between man and ape. As cruel as I felt extracting a measure of cruel enjoyment from looking at him, I realised that he probably has some hidden talent, like a great knowledge of classical literature (or something), and will make a girl very happy some day, then many years later die old and content surrounded by a tribe of loyal children.
So I guess he'll be having the last laugh. Even if it is through grossly misshapen teeth.

You've probably noticed that I've held off on mentioning the music so far. This is not entirely accidental. You see, Ben Lee seems like a really nice guy, so I hate to slag him off. But frankly, his new songs suck. It was to his detriment that he started the set with five of these new songs, which are uninspired and lyrically lazy, and would make much better b-sides than album tracks.

However, like a relationship with an initially-frigid-but-secretly-kinky girl, the set got more enjoyable as it progressed. After the aforementioned new songs were out of the way, his 4 piece band shuffled off stage and he played a few songs with only his own acoustic guitar as accompaniment.

It was then that we got a glimpse of the famous Ben Lee charisma, which in the past has got him on cosy terms with the Beastie Boys and into the bedroom of Clare Danes. In between songs he made reference to his two weeks at university, when he apparently managed to "date rape himself". He also somewhat dubiously likened the audience to heaven, in that is was "full of pretty girls and nice guys" (yeah, that reference sailed over my head too).

After their breather, the band rejoined him onstage for some old tracks including "Cigarettes will kill you" and "Nothing much happens", which helped to wash the aftertaste of his new songs out of our mouths. After "finishing" their set, the band came back on for the obligatory encore, when "Gamble everything for Love" was finally played, much to the rabid delight of the Bee Lee fan club positioned front and centre.

For the finale, the lights were turned on for an energetic rendition of "We're All in this Together", at which stage I turned around and noticed that the woman who'd been groping me on the bum for the last half of the set could have easily passed for an extra on the latest star wars installment. Gross, I know. I felt horribly violated, but this didn't stop me from nitpicking the words to the track and coming to the conclusion that while they sounded profound they mean.. well.. not a lot. Which, come to think of it, is a weakness of a lot of his lyrics. I mean, does he honestly think that lyrics like "woke up this morning I suddenly realized we're all in this together / I started smiling cos you were smiling and we're all in this together" are going to hold up to repeated listenings?

At 11:20, Ben Lee played his last chord then bobed eagerly offstage, leaving his hapless band members to deal with inebriated female fans.
I was perplexed as to what to make of what I'd just seen. The man had expertly filled the room with four chord riffs, jangly guitar and his distinct nasally vocals, but something had definitely prevented it from being a great show. I think it was that Ben Lee is a great entertainer and a charismatic performer, but not a great musician. Still, no one can accuse him of sliding by on his looks, and I commend him for taking full advantage of the cult of personality and managing to entertain packed crowds such as the one tonight and leave them with wide smiles and memories of a good show.

N.B #1: All images used is this post were stolen from unicentre.uow.edu.au
N.B #2: Yes, I know this post could benefit from a good editor

Watch as I hop on the nearest bandwagon

2005-05-25T20:54:00.000+10:00

Geez... I'm struggling to contain myself as I write this blog entry. My fingers are hammering the keyboard like pistons in an engine, my eyes are darting back and forth like those of a crack addict. If I turn the radio down and listen with my head tilted in just the right direction, I can hear my heart pounding away, even through two layered t-shirts and a cardigan.

The reason for this excitement? As all major media outlets have been constantly reminding us, it is less than 48 hours until we will find out if Schapelle Corby is going to spend the rest of her life in prison or, as the website www.dontshootshapelle.com has so eloquently described it, be "shackled to a pole and shot".

There is no denying that she of the excessively-plucked eyebrows and westie-sounding name has well and truly punctured the national zeitgeist. Camouflage's search results, which usually consist of such mundane terms as "darren hayes homosexuality" and "missy higgins lesbian", have in the past two days exploded with queries about Schapelle Corby. It should be noted that the majority of these have been in relation to my now infamous Schapelle Corby Nude entry of May 15.

I cannot go anywhere at the moment without being asked by a friend, family member or complete stranger whether I think she's innocent. My annoyed answer always runs along the lines of 'Whether she did it or not is irrelevant... crucial evidence which might have proven her guilty or innocent has been lost, so she should be acquitted.'
You see, unlike the prosecutors in the case, I don't believe that being found with marijuana in your bag after it has been handled by a countless number of people since you last saw it qualifies as being caught "red handed". However its been shown that Indonesian judges don't have a habit of acquitting people hauled before them on drugs charges, even if they are female, white and in possession of a killer set of boobs. And somehow I doubt they will be influenced by the results of Channel Nines dubious worm poll.
So the time has come to speculate on what sentence will be handed down to her. Personally, I could not agree more with the owners of the aforementioned website. Death by firing squad does seem a little callous. I think if she must be killed, a more humane method such as lethal injection or decapitation could be suggested by Alexander Downer.

No matter what you might say about the death penalty, I think in her case being painlessly slaughtered might be preferable to a lifetime rotting away in an Indonesian jail. That said, news stories today have indicated that she might be able to serve her sentence in Australia under a prisoner exchange deal. This would only be a one-off deal though, which would lead other Australians serving time in jail overseas to ponder why god didn't bless them with a more telegenic body.

Thomas Maxwell McCoskar.

In other news, it is looking more likely that Australia's 2nd favourite overseas detainee, Mr Thomas M. McCoskar, isn't going to have to serve the two year sentence for gay sex that he was given by a Fijian court last month.

The case in question arose after Thomas Maxwell McCoskar, 55, was caught engaging in a bit of pole-to-hole action with a 23 year old local. Despite anti-discrimation amendments to the Fijian constitution in 1998, there still exist laws which allow for the prosecutiuon of gay men. So in short, Mr McCoskar was wedged firmly up shit creek (no pun intended).
Since the verdict however, the prosecutor has faced strong criticism for both his legal approach and alleged homophobic views, so things are looking good For McCoskar and his boy-pal at their appeal.

You might recall me speculating as to how McCoskar might have snared this man, 22 years his junior. Was it his charm? His roguish good looks? His dapper 'country gent' style of dressing?
Disappointingly, it turns out that McCoskar, a retired teacher, is just a common garden variety pervert. The SMH reports:

"The magistrates court heard last week that McCoskar met Nadan while on holiday in Nadi over Easter and offered to pay him for sex and taking nude pictures that McCoskar planned to post on the internet."

Taking nude pictures of some Fijian kid two decades younger than you to post on the internet?? Call me old fashioned, but that is fucked up. Not fucked up enough to warrant 2 years in jail, but still pretty messed.

The most confounding thing about this trial is why Thomas Maxwell McCoskar bothered travelling to Fiji to pick up a rent boy, when he could have just as easily bought himself a piece of ass in Sydney's Darlinghurst. Or perhaps even just logged onto one of those sordid gay websites which I hear are popular with men of a certain vintage.

Hope you appreciated that, Quirkie

Feel free to leave any comments about todays post. I'd love to hear from all of you.

Hi-Fidelity "Meme"... finally

2005-05-25T00:11:00.000+10:00

A little slow on the uptake with this one perhaps, but I just noticed that Mikey from Spending like it's 1988 has tagged me with this fantastic questionaire thingo, which derives from High Fidelity. As it gives me the opportunity to prattle on about music like the wanker I am, I thought I'd be a good sport and participate.

Top Five Lyrics that Move Your Heart

1. Fiona Apple - Paper Bag

When I first heard this song in 2003, I selfishly thought it had been written for me. The words are just so... fitting.

" I got to fold 'cause these hands
are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works,
when it costs too much to love"

2. Mercury Rev - Spiders and flies

If you listen hard enough, you can find in this song - in amongst Jonathon Donaghue's creepy falsetto and the semi-sensical lyrics - a sort of bastardised poignancy.

"Spiders and flies live and die,
Six legs to stand on and two wings to fly.
I can't remember and I can't decide
What was the season and the color of your eyes."

3. Kate Bush - Army dreamers

I only discovered this song a week ago, and I may be over it in just as long. It is about the waste of young life that happens when armies go into battle.

"What could he do?
Should have been a rock star.
But he didn’t have the money for a guitar.
What could he do?
Should have been a politician.
But he never had a proper education.
What could he do?
Should have been a father.
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers."

4. Elliott Smith - Somebody that I used to know

Describes the way I feel about so many of the people who've passed through my life since leaving home. That line "you're just somebody that I used to know" is the best fuck you I can think of to give to people who you used to be so close to but have gradually slipped out of your life. Fun (and easy) to play on guitar as well.

"I know you don't think you did me wrong,
and i can't stay this mad for long,
keeping a hold of what you just let go -
you're just somebody that i used to know."

5. Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy - Music and Politics

A more personal song than usual from Michael Franti's early 90s highly articulate and political hip-hop group. If you'd like to check out more of this group, I can highly recommend their track "Television, the drug of a nation".

"If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics
I would tell you that sometimes it’s easier to desire
and pursue the attention and admiration of 100 strangers
than it is to accept the love and loyalty
of those closest to me

And I would tell you that sometimes
I prefer to look at myself
through someone else’s eyes
Eyes that aren’t clouded with the tears of knowing
what an asshole I can be, as yours are.

If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics
I would tell you that the personal revolution
is far more difficult
and is the first step in any revolution"

Favourite instrumentals.

Not exactly my area of expertise, but here goes...

1. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (soundtrack) - Pure imagination
2. Mike Figgis - Leaving Las Vegas
3. Decoder ring - Welcome shoppers
4. Dave Brubeck - take 5
5. Beverly hills cop theme

Top 5 Musical experiences.

1. Ac/DC @ Sydney entertainment centre, '96
2. Endorphin @ UOW unibar, '04
3. Cody ChestnuTT @ the metro, '04
4. Franz Ferdinand @ splendour in the grass, '04
5. Silverchair @ Big Day out '02 (the enjoyment of this show was related more to the culmination of months of anticipation than to it actually being a good show, as Daniel Johns was stricken with arthritis at the time).

5 Artists that more people should listen to.

1. Phoenix
2. Andy Clockwise
3. The Guild League
4. The Dawn Collective
5. Aimee Mann

5 Albums that people should listen to from start to finish

1. Fiona Apple - When the pawn...
2. Primal Scream - Screamadelica
3. Wilco - Summerteeth
4. Jeff Buckley - Grace
5. The Beatles - The White album.

Top 5 musical heroes

1. John Lennon
2. David Bowie
3. Rufus Wainwright
4. Brian Wilson
5. Fiona Apple

To ensure the swift death of this irritating "meme", I hereby pass it on to nobody!

white ninja reads too much into things

2005-05-19T12:11:00.000+10:00

Because you fuckers seem so reluctant to comment about my highly controversial 'Schapelle Corby Nude' post, I'm not going to regale you with a typical anecdote-laden, caustic-humour-heavy Camouflage post.
No, you (dear readers) haven't deserved it. Instead I'm just going to post the latest White Ninja comic. Which, lets' face it, is more entertaining than anything I could conjure up.

One more thing: I know that blogging about unusual google searches has been done to death, but I just wanted to give a call out to the people who have found this page via searches for "obesity causes trouble orgasming" and "camouflage fatties".
Oh, and if the person who visited this site after searching for "joel turner lyrics" is reading, could you kindly fuck off. You are not welcome here.

Schapelle Corby Nude

2005-05-15T11:31:00.000+10:00

No, the title to this post isn't a misnomer. Fleshy treats await! ....but first

Before

After

Yes, as it is horribly apparent here, Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand has cut his fringe off. A group of fans have already started an online petition imploring him to grow it back. You can sign it here.

And seeing as you're already wasting your precious time, you may as well have a look at this video, where Tara Reid poses for photographers, oblivious to the fact that her tit has just flopped out of her dress. Utterly hilarious.

Now, what you've all been waiting for... pictures of Schapelle Corby nude. That's right...everyone's favourite beauty student / firing squad fodder wearing nothing but a smile (and in one case a strategically placed floatation device).
These pictures come to you courtesy of an anonymous Schapelle benefactor, who emailed them to me yesterday believing that they might help to get some more attention to her case. After all, there's no such thing as bad publicity, is there?

Schapelle.jpg (removed)

Sailor2.jpg (also removed... too late suckers)

Andy Clockwise

2005-05-11T00:36:00.000+10:00

Andy Clockwise, a singer / songwriter / multi-instrumentalist / weirdo from Sydney is coming out with a new double CD "classic FM" in the next couple of months.
He is genuinely original and inventive... so I thought I'd give his new website a plug

www.andyclockwise.com.au

In the meantime, a few new songs (+ some old classics) can be heard here.

And for all you salivating Camouflage fans who keep on reloading their browsers in the desperate hope that I've updated, a proper blog entry will be forthcoming in a day or so.

Things I Like

2005-05-03T00:04:00.000+10:00

I know that blogging about things you actually like is dangerous, because you can run the risk of sounding lame. I don't really care though, cause I've had such a good day, and I thought this would make a nice counterpoint to my last entry.

1. Ruby Grapefruit
The ultimate food! You can have them when hungover, during a drug binge, for breakfast, dessert, or just as a snack. They are like an orange, only larger, more flavoursome and altogether more satisfying.

2. Old Fred Astaire films.
Those of you who have seen any of these depression-era feelgood flicks - laden with ultra camp extended dance sequences and cheesy one-liners - will need no explanation as to why they ROCK! As for the rest of you, I suggest you slip on a pair of tracky pants (so as to fit in) and dash to your nearest Spotlight or Big W store, where you can usually find one of my namesake's DVDs in the bargain bin for about $7.

3. Coldplay and The White Stripes.
Or more specifically, the fact that they are both releasing new albums on June 6.
Why is this? Well, The White Stripes can always be counted on to do something interesting, albeit within the blues-rock genre that they strictly adhere to. Also, they have proven themselves over the course of a handful of albums, unlike the slew of one album wonders that have been big recently.
As for Coldplay, I don't even think they need to be classified as a guilty pleasure. They are just a good band.
If you're interested, the new White Stripes single 'Blue Orchid' can be heard here and the new Coldplay track 'Speed of Sound' here.

4. Heist Films.
While often painfully predictable, Heist films never fail to entertain me. It might just be the escapism, or maybe it's that I'm actually a jewel thief trapped in the body of a sheltered private school boy. Either way, I love them.
The 1955 classic Rififi (apparently it's French for 'rough and tumble') is undoubtedly a highlight of the genre, combining film-noir aesthetics with a half-hour heist sequence that is devoid of dialogue. Recent efforts, including the The Score and the remake of Ocean's Eleven have also been enjoyable.

5. Rufus Wainwright.
My favourite male musician (with the favourite female gong going of course to Fiona Apple). An amazing lyricist, and also a fantastic pianist. In fact, it was him who inspired me to start learning the piano.
Also, he is fucking funny. And hot. And gay.
Anyone who is unfamiliar with him would be advised to check out the albums "Poses" and "Want One". Or if you're one of those folks who like to download stuff, a good place to start would be the tracks Foolish Love, Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk and Dinner At Eight. I also find it pretty cool that he wrote a track, Harvester of Hearts, with the aim of using it to seduce a straight friend of his... and succeeded. He actually played some shows in Sydney earlier this year, but I was away at the time and tragically missed out... something I will regret to the grave (or until he tours here again).

6. That new Gorillaz song.
Fucking cool. I like the clip too.

7. Ian Thorpes Hair (wait, wrong list).
Though I do like Dawei's commentary on the topic.

Things I Hate, pt. 1

2005-05-01T16:52:00.000+10:00

Right. Seeing as I am currently feeling like I've been dug up, still suffering the effects of last nights flirtations with My Fickle Mistress Alcohol, I figure the time is right for a bile-filled blog entry. What follows are several things which were filling me with rage during the drive from Sydney to Wollongong that I just finished.

1. Those smug, superior Australian Financial Review ads that have been plastered all over bus stops and billboards of late. I'm sure you know the ones; they attempt to appeal to cubicle jockeys' latent sense of purpose and superiority by describing the AFR as "tall poppy fertiliser" among other things.

2. Daniel Macpherson. Okay, so he's only the second most annoying person person on the X-Factor, after Mark "I just swallowed a load" Holden. But still,where do I start with this freak? His smarmy, sleazy attitude, his permanently undone tie, his annoying half-smile / smirk, or the way that he appears to have been looking to Larry Emdur for guidance on how to host a tv show.
Sure, he is sortof good looking and has a cute little asymetrical bum. However I'm afraid even this can't redeem his flaws, and he deserves nothing less than a brutal gang raping at the collective hands of that fugly boy band "Random", then a demeaning money shot to the face from Mr Holden.

3. Newtown. Or, more specifically, people who live there and feel obliged to remind you of that fact every 10 minutes when you meet them at a party. As if their op-shop clothes, expensively-cut-yet-crappy-looking hair, drug fucked eyes and constant name dropping of Bloc Party and Hunter S. Thompson weren't enough of a clue already. Fucking losers. What's so great about your suburb anyway? The obscene price of rent? The forced eclecticism of the place? The superficial 'beautiful people' who populate it?

4. Watching obese people eat fast food. I'm not even going to apologise in advance to any fatties reading out there, because if you choose to eat greasy crap despite knowing it will cause your waist to balloon out to an even more obscene size, you have no right to get offended when people make fun of you for it. Though "making fun" suggests that I find it amusing. I don't.... in the slightest. In fact, I find the sight disgusting, retchworthy even.
Ugh! Enough said.

A Wollongong Thursday night

2005-04-24T13:47:00.000+10:00

Note to all the punters (at least five at last count) being brought in here through google searches for "schapelle", "corby" and "dontshootschapelle". You can find my objective yet thought-provoking coverage of the issue here. I'll admit the title of that entry has aged rather badly, seeing as the Indonesians no longer plan to "shackle her to a pole" and give her their worst, but the sentiment still holds true.

Ok, enough pandering to random blow-ins already! It's time for me to admit that I was wrong... well sort of.
You might remember that Missy Higgins concert that I decided to forego because of her being a "middle-of-the-road, barbershop-shewn, bogan-accented lesbian" (and yes, I do realise I just quoted myself... I usually hate when people do that).

Well, I ended up going.
This wasn't entirely my decision. You see, the girl who had offered to buy the ticket decided at the last minute she didn't want it because she had a fight with her "partner" (haw haw)*** and didn't want to go out. Fortunately, I found a decent bunch of people who were also going, which I thought might make the night a bit more bearable.

On the night in question (a thursday), we got to uni at about 8:00 only to see a wedge-shaped mass of people trying to get into Uni Hall through the single glass door that was acting as the only entrance. We wisely headed in to the Unibar for what was left of happy hour. At Unibar I amusingly found myself the only male at a table of lesbians who were all getting themselves primed for the Ms. H. show (apparently she has quite a big following with that crowd). And when I say primed, I mean primed. These women were knocking back beer and vodka like it was cordial.

I forget how long we stayed there for... too long anyway. Accompanied by the troupe of lesbians, I staggered into the University Hall just in time for the last few songs by the support act, Serena Ryder. She was ok, but was trying a bit too hard to be Janis Joplin... to tell you the truth I wasn't really paying much attention.
Missy came on and the crowd went bollocks. It was about this time I noticed something wrong with the crowd. They were a little bit shorter, pimplier, more awkward looking and more trashily dressed than your average live music crowd. I pointed this out to my friend and she reminded me that this was an all-ages show.
Anyway, this explained the weird vibe in the hall. Many of the kids, I assumed, had come on the back of hearing "the special two" on Nova, but didn't really know how to act when hearing the song live. So they just stood around awkwardly, gazingly upwards at the stage and occasionally groping their equally unappealing boyfriend / girlfriend. The upshot to the all ages crowd was that I had no trouble seeing the stage, and had a clear view of Missy's freshly-shaven head (god... she is such a lesbian).

The show wasn't that great so I won't spend alot of time on it. I should point out though that she has a great voice, westy accent or not, and has some good songs, even if her lyrics do lack a bit (note: this is a major understatement).

After the show I bumped into the massive group of lesbians who I'd been drinking with before at Unibar, who had someone increased in size even more during the show. They convinced me to come drinking with them at a bar in town (the Illawarra Hotel, for anyone who is familiar with these parts). I'd love to say that I had a great time there, in contrast to every other time I've been out in Wollongong, but this was not the case. The music was pretty crap, drinks overpriced and the barstaff only moderately attractive.
Also unsettling was the way that men kept on aggresively trying to hit on the girls I was with. I would have thought the fact that they were all quite obviously lesbians might be a disincentive for straight guys to hit on them. Though in fairness to the pathetic creatures who tried this, i realise that pretty much every porn movie made for hetero men reinforces the idea that all every lesbian couple wants is for a willing man to join them in a threesome.

I just realised that this post is currently pictureless. I will rectify this with a picture of Missy Higgins looking rather flushed, presumably as a result of orgasming three times after being munched on at length by some ladyfriend.

_____________________________________________

*** Has anyone else noticed how straight women occasionally use the word "partner" to describe their boyfriends (usually when they're 30+) but always feel the need to insert a qualifier that their "partner" is in fact a man, lest they be confused with a lesbian? Eg.

My partner and I are celebrating our third anniversary next week. He's great, I don't know what I'd do without him.

What's so bad about being a lesbian anyway? They've never been legislated against in the same way as gay men, they always get hit on in bars (albeit by men) and they can get away with a whole host of things that straight women can't, like having short bleached hair and playing bass in a rock band (vanessa thornton, I'm looking right at you.)

deja vu

2005-04-20T09:37:00.000+10:00

Pope Benedict XV

"Some see Benedict as a traditionalist and a defender of papal principles. He is a critic of homosexuality and gay marriage and has denounced other Christian churches as deficient. As a Cardinal, he wrote "Truth and Tolerance", a book in which he denounces the use of tolerance as an excuse to distort the truth."

(sigh)

I guess this signals a new era of self-loathing for everyones favourite camp Catholic, DREADNOUGHT.

"odds + ends"

2005-04-19T19:48:00.000+10:00

wow... the comments box for my last post has absolutely exploded. And before anyone points it out, I do realise that two were by the same person and one was by me. Oh, and then there was that anonymous comment imploring me to "Get ya joot out and suck a gooch!". hmmmmmmmm ok.

Anyway... lest I look like someone who is hung up on the level of recognition he gets (which I am totally not) I'll get to the point of todays post.

Russell Crowe, the man Sting once described as "enigmatic", has pulled the plug on his dubious musical venture 30 Odd Foot of Grunts. With both Creed and Blink 182 breaking up recently, this completes a killer trificta for haters of crap music.
Amusingly, the rest of the band found out via newspaper reports as Russell couldn't be fucked to phone and tell them it was over. This seems a bit callous when you consider the band was together for 12 years. Which reminds me... didn't the same thing happen when that other bastion of Australian musical talent, Savage Garden, broke up???
[Speaking of which, check out this hi-larious interview Darren Hayes did with some gay magazine where they fail to show any interest in his "new musical direction", preferring instead to completely take the piss out of him and ask questions like "do you have a good body image" and "why did you stop dying your hair and plucking your eyebrows".]

I used to hate Russell Crowe. I mean absolutely HATE him. I hated his smug arrogance, I hated that annoying goiter thing in between his eyebrows, I hated the fact that he dumped Meg Ryan for the much-uglier Danielle Spencer. Mostly, I HATED the recognition he got for Gladiator, which I found to be horrendous and way too self-important for a film which was obstensibly about a man in a skirt who did some wacky stuff.

Then I started to like him. His fuck-you attitude was kind of endearing. I liked the way he only ever wore one shirt just to piss off the paparazzi, and wasn't he going to make that "Eucalyptus" film to help kick start the Australian film industry? Oh, and he also made fun of Mario Fenech one time on the Footy Show, which made me laugh.

However, I am starting to return to my original view of Russell Crowe. He appears to think he holds a more profound place in the world than merely that of an "entertainer", which is somewhat deluded. Also, that "Eucalpytus" film that I was so looking forward to collapsed like Schapelle Corby outside a Bali courtroom after Russell refused to do a nudie scene. How weak! Not that I'd want to see him nude or anything.

As much as I dislike Frenzal Rhomb, I think their song "Russell Crowes Band" provides a fitting and poignant epitaph to Thirty Odd Foot of Grunts, so I will include a few lines here to finish off this post.

Don't get olympic athletes to my barbecues
Don't get extorsion threats from the Coffs Harbour Saloon
And even though our paychecks may as well be counterfeit
At least we know that Russell Crowe's Band's a fucking pile of shit!

Can somebody shoot Schapelle Corby already?

2005-04-17T01:41:00.000+10:00

Ok, I'll admit right now that the title was a blatant play for attention (and links). But I do have a point to make.
I'm just so damn sick of the media coverage of this woman. I may have been deluded due to sleep depriviation, but I'm sure that inside the Telecrap at work yesterday there was what amounted to a Schapelle liftout. The woman is becoming something of a brandname... and it's fucking pissing me off.
To make things worse, the facts are being all but overlooked and the media is piling on the emotion, pathos and baseless insinuations.

Then there are the websites.

www.dontshootschapelle.com is my personal favourite. Check out this little chestnut of a quote from their front page.

Twelve brutal Indonesian troopers armed with high calibre rifles. Schapelle Corby, 27, innocent and defenceless girl from Queensland, Australia, shackled to a pole.

You'll have excuse me for being a little turned on right now. The way they described her as being "defenceless" and "shackled to a pole" makes me suspicious as to exactly what emotion they were trying to appeal to.
Anyhow, they go on to say:

This is Indonesia's sick idea of a `justice' system. Evil triumphs when good people do nothing.

Wow. They managed to brand the Indonesians as being "sick" and "evil" in the space of two shrill sentences. I'm surprised they haven't accused those dirty moslims of raping and torturing poor Schapelle, or forcing her to wear one of those creepy burkah thingos to cover her white Christian skin.
I am also somewhat suspicious of a link on their page which allows you to donate money to help the cause. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Schapelle's entire defense being bankrolled by some shady millionaire called Ron Bakir? I'll say nothing more about this... feel free to jump to your own conclusions.

Perhaps these people would be better off turning their indignant energies towards the case of Thomas Maxwell McCoskar who has actually been convicted of something. Mr McCoskar, a 55 year old ex-academic, was on holiday in Fiji and thought it might be a lark to get in on with a 23 year old local boy. Unfortunately he was caught in the act (perhaps an "inside job"... haw haw) and he has been sentenced to 2 years in jail under Fiji's archaic anti-homo laws.

The Australian government has been somewhat ambivilant towards the case of Mr Thomas Maxwell McCoskar, which is hardly surprising. I'm sure if John Howard and his pals could have their way, people caught having gay sex would not just be imprisoned but would instead be shackled to a pole and shot, Schapelle Corby style. Public pressue has forced the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trading to have a cursory look at the case, which is nice of them seeing as sticking up for Australians who are being screwed overseas is their fucking job.

What interests me most about this story, however, has been overlooked by all the news reports I've read. This is: how did an aging academic like Mr McCoskar manage to score a hot piece of Fijian ass at his age? The age difference is 22 years... I'd love to know his secret. Perhaps he splashed himself with some of those pheromones that are always advertised on late night informercials, making him irresitable to the studly object of his attractions.

That's right! For just $49.95 a bottle (plus P&h), he can be yours.

Despite some parallels with the Corbs' case, the "dontshootschapelle" crowd might not be so keen to set up a website in favour of Thomas McCoskar. This is because it is not quite so easy to demonise the Fijians as a race as it is with the "sick", "evil" Indonesians. You see, as well as being home to plenty of foreign, funny looking people, Fiji is also a Christian country. Ah.... dilemma.
Still, I'll be watching closely to see how this one pans out.

I should thank Weezil for some of the links I've used in this entry, and also for bringing the case of Thomas McCoskar to my attention, seeing as in the current Schapelle-obsessed media climate, his story has been largely overlooked

Giving credit where credit's due, I should also thank John Heard (a.k.a) DREADNOUGHT as I did pinch that picture off his site. If you're reading this and you'd like me to take that picture down, just say so in the comments.

my life: a big yawning gash

2005-04-12T18:05:00.000+10:00

today:
woke up at 8pm due to my fucked-up body clock, which will not let me sleep later than this time, no matter what time I would actually like to wake up. Pondered what to do with the day, seeing as I'm obviously too tired to do anything worthwhile. Decided to get an early start on an assignment due this Friday. Had breakfast, read the IT section of the Australian (all I could find). Came back up to my room. Somehow wasted 6 hours doing nothing worthwhile. Slept till 530. Got woken up by some bogan down the hall playing 'Duality' by Slipknot on repeat at high volume. Went down for an early dinner, got informed by friend that I "look like shit". Said friend then went on to rant that he's been getting so much sex that he has been missing out on eating and sleeping properly. I informed him that my heart was bleeding, then went back to my meal of poorly cooked chicken on a bed of dry rice.

I've also realised that to accumulate any sort of readership for this blog, I'll need to be patient and keep going at it for a long period of time with no recognition. Fuck that.

Un-ninjed

2005-04-12T14:14:00.000+10:00

Just a brief post to reward the eager masses who have been checking this blog several times a day for updates.

.

You might recognise this as a still from White Ninja, easily the best webcomic going around. I heartily recommend you check it out, rather than wasting any more time on this visually uninspiring, content-lacking piece-o-shit blog.

For anyone else with some time (and bandwidth) to kill, do yourself a favour and have a look at the webcomics Questionable Content and Men in Hats.

I've also got to confess to totally loving the new Tammin Sursok song "whatever will be". It really is quite good... even despite the slightly syrupy pop production.
Yeh, yeh, I know she is a manufactured pop princess in the mould of Kylie, Delta et al, and I also know that she bears an uncanny resemblance to a drag queen, but I just can't seem to get that hook out of my head (you know the one).

That chicken picture above leads nicely into an idea I had last night which is just too ingenious to not share. It goes like this: how about if women were able to lay eggs as chickens do. Think about it for a moment... the benefits would be endless.
There would be no need for maternity leave (women could simply leave their eggs in an incubator during the day), husbands would be able to have sex with their wives during their pregnancy without being grossed out, and hospitals would no longer need to spend money on maternity wards. Best of all, if a couple decided they did not want their "baby" there would be no need for a messy abortion, all they need to is drop the egg from shoulder height onto the floor. Then, if they felt like it, they could whip up the contents into a tasty omlette. (mmmm, cannibalicious).
In fact the only problem with the egg laying thesis is that, by allowing women to attend work during "pregnancy", it would eradicate the "glass ceiling" which has been keeping women out of executive positions. Men, therefore, would need to devise a new method by which they could continue to dominate the world.

Seeing as I can't think of a good way to end this post, I'll just let this photo of Ian Thorpe do the job for me.

.

missing miss higgins

2005-04-10T19:22:00.000+10:00

Yes. I have sold my ticket to Missy Higgins, and made a $2.50 profit to boot. I probably could have made more from the ticket since the show's sold out, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I made someone pay more than $30 to see that middle-of-the-road, barbershop-shewn, bogan-accented lesbian (yes, you heard it here first... Missy Higgins likes nothing more than a snorkel assisted muff-dive).
Someone on the JJJ website made a good point. Namely, that Missy's music could easily be realised under the name "Dido", and then we would all hate it instantly. I wouldn't begrudge people the right to listen to her stuff, but just think that they should see it for what it is rather than attempting to attach some sort of indie credibility to it. It also annoys me that she gets played on the J's, when she plainly belongs on MIX.
All of which begs the question: Why buy a ticket to see her play live?
It was a combination of the fact that hardly anyone, decent or otherwise, tours to Wollongong, and a cunning marketing ploy by the university. This was, to spread the word around that there were only 50 tickets left, causing even the most level-headed music snob to drop their pretences, forget their good taste and buy a ticket in a hysterical frenzy. I remember waking up the next morning, as if after a big night out, to find my wallet missing $27.50 and containing a ticket to see Missy. Oh how I shuddered. Fortunately the scale has now been evened, and I was able to offload the cursed thing to some girl who wants to go to the concert with her new "partner" [note to self: extrapolate this sentence at a later date].

In case Missy Higgins ever stumbles across this site, I thought I'd say some nice things about her because she really seems like not that bad a person.
1) I didn't mind that track "the river" off her album. Had some good lyrical ideas.
2) The cover of Skyhooks' "You just like me cause I'm good in bed" that she did for triple J was great, and delightfully devoid of irony.
3) She could actually be attractive if she did something different with her hair (like, had it cut with something other than a pair of blunt training scissors).
4) A friend of a friend went to school with her for a while, and apparently she was the most popular girl in the grade. Go Missy!

I was going to segue to something but I forget now... damn lack of sleep doing horrible things to my short term memory.
Ah that's it! I went to the unibar last Thursday to see Kid Confucius playing live with some ridiculous band called "Funklantis" or something as the support. The band themselves were great - An incredibly tight 9 piece funk / soul / rap group - but that's not what I'm getting at.
Before the show, the two friends I was going with both pulled out via SMS... how weak. I battled on and went to the show, as free drinks awaited me there. Once I got to the unibar, I managed to find some people who I sort of know but it wasn't the same as being with actual friends. The conversation was stilted, they were all smoking the whole time (and somehow the wind managed to blow all of their passive smoke into my face), and they kept on gossiping about people who I don't know.
Then I noticed this chick who I used to have as a tutor and thought I might be able to use her as an escape route. So I went up, started talking... then she barred me cold. Didn't even bother with an excuse or anything, just waved a cigarette at me and waltzed off. Stupid acne tainted badly dressed lesbian. I guess at least she'd shaved her fucking armpits since I last saw her.
So then I caught the courtesy bus back by myself, and I couldn't even scribble in my notebook cause the lead in my pencil had snapped off. Fuck.

Of course, I blame the terrible night squarely on my flakey friends. So I am now planning a revenge that Seneca himself would be proud of. It will consist of four parts.
1) To lie, and tell them on Monday what a great time I had at the show due to the awesomeness of the band, and the fantastic people who I met there.
2) Act like I don't care about the dogging and pretend that I'm still keen to see Lior on Tuesday.
3) On Tuesday, cancel at the last possible minute, cruelling robbing them of the all round good time that one generally has when they go out with moi.
4) Mix up a double martini, kick my feet back and revel in the fact that I'm two steps closer to being friendless.

So I'm fickle, petty and pathetic. Fuck it.

Online music round up

2005-03-30T20:22:00.000+10:00

Here are some links that I've stumbled across lately, where you can find some fantastic songs. I'll add more as I find them

Bitches Ain't shit
Ben folds covers the Dr. Dre "classic" in inimitable style. Listen out for the toothless pommy dude who takes Snoop's verse.

Extraordinary Machine
Here you can find high quality mp3's for the all the tracks from Fiona Apple's new album "Extraordinary Machine". As well as the songs being fantastic, the downloads are also entirely guilt free. This is because there is no prospect of being able to buy a legitate copy of the recordings, either in a store or online, anytime in the near future. The blinkered vision of Apple's label Sony has dictated that the album, completed since March '03 will continue to gather dust on Sony's shelves due to them deeming the album as lacking an "Obvious Single". Much wringing of hands has been carried out in the name of Sony's favouring of commerce over art, with an international campaign and website even being established to help encourage the albums release.
A more detailed history of the album can be found here.

Jon Brion music pages.
I might as well take this chance to segue to a site about Jon Brion, the producer of 'Extraordinay Machine'. He is mainly known for his soundtrack work, including 'Eternal sunshine of the Spotless mind' and the more recent 'I heart Huckabees'. He has also relased an album himself and produced artists including the aforementioned Fiona Apple and Rufus Wainwright, who incidentally, are two of my faves. At the website linked above you can find a whole bunch of Jon Brion related stuff, including some live mp3s. His solo album, which is very poppy and very listenable, never managed to secure a wide release, but hearsay tells me that Red Eye has a copy that they will part with for $40.

Coldplay - Live at KCRW (Scroll down a bit for mp3s)

Never been a massive fan of the band, but for some reason I was excited to hear this recording of a recent show of theirs, their first in a year. During it they featured five new songs, including their forthcoming single "Speed of Sound".

To reward anyone who's read this far... a picture!

Fashion Cops five-o

2005-03-07T19:37:00.000+11:00

I write this post in the hope that some poor disadvantaged youth who does not have the superior fashion genes of myself stumbles across it, and is dissuaded from committing a heinous fashion crime.
Here's hoping.

Things you must never, ever wear

- Ralph Lauren polo shirts
- Surf clothes worn by non surfers (especially billabong)
- Denim shorts
- Puffy skater shoes (espcially if they are new and sparklingly clean)
- Sunglasses inside or on public transport
- Industrie polo shirts with upturned collar
- Those avril lavinge sweat band things
- A suit paired with sneakers
- A suit jacket over a t-shirt
- "New Balance" style jogging sneakers (outside of the gym)
- Tube socks pulled up high

There. My 11 simple fashion comandments for men and tomboys, laid out simply enough for even the most hardened south coast bogan to understand.

The dawn collective

2005-03-02T13:13:00.000+11:00

I will flesh out this entry at a later date, but for now I will just include a link the song "Affirmation" by wollongong band The Dawn Collective. After one EP and years of relentless touring, I have no doubt that this will be the breakthrough song for the band.

Affirmation.mp3

The official Dawn Collective website

Hunter S. Thompson

2005-02-21T21:40:00.000+11:00

Living in wollongong Australia at the moment... I heard the news and wandered around this college thing where I live, sharing the news.
None of these ignorant fuckers knew who he was.

On the way to the fruit shop I saw this crazed old guy on an electric wheelchair with a rainbow flag attached to the back. He was cruising down the middle of the road, bottle in one hand, screaming something out at anyone who'd listen. I followed him, stopped the car, tried to chase him, but he was around a corner and it was too late. The old fool had wheeled away, probably to be hit by a car or something... I just wanted to tell him that Hunter meant alot to me too.I bought 3 grapefruit and a small steak knife at the fruit shop . Took them to the beach, ate all three. Then drove home, stopping for some beer... and retreated to my room to get drunk by myself. I'd prefer to be alone than hear one more of those fuckers say "Hunter Who????"

He was certainly insane by the time he died, but this does not soften the blow.

What is probably his last article, a transcript of a telephone conversation with Bill Murray regarding "Shotgun Golf" can be found here:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?id=1992213

#1

2005-02-13T12:31:00.000+11:00

Do you like to get deep sometimes
and think about Einstein.