“Do you think he’s ok” Brance murmurs to Ang amongst the screams
“Oh yeah, trust me hitting is a good thing”
“Well yeah, but is an elbow to the stomach and slamming his head into the table?”
“Of course, it’s human nature to...”
“But the beer bottle to the…”
“Brance, he’s fine”
“he’s down!”
“He’ll get back up”
“Not with those kinda kicks he’s not” the bartender jests as he tops up Brance’s drink.
“who’s the pretty lady”
“Just a friend of ours” Angela replies whilst shaking the glass in the air for a top up as well”
The sound of shattering glass sets off a chorus of cheers and laughter in the left side of the bar. Brance’s eyes nervously dart to the carnage before making there way back to Angela.
“and you’re positive this is good?” in a concerned tone
“of course, see he’s getting up”
“Only because she seems to have gone somewhere and… Oh my god she’s got a bar stool, run man run!”
It starts with a playful punch at perhaps an over the top comment. It’s returned by maybe a soft shoulder nudge as you pass by, and then before you know it the games have begun. She hides your phone and you pretend the best way to retrieve it is to do the awkward “I don’t want to! but I have to, even though I’d like to, but its too early to tell if you want to” body search rather than just grab your friends phone and call it.
The battling banjos begin to play as you flick her hair in response to a projectile coaster. She takes your seat so you take the last of her drink (instantly realising how much more delicious it is than yours) The stakes are raised a little with a light tap behind her knee as she plays a shot on the pool table, but is shortly responded to by smashing a pool cue across your back as you line up yours.
Nobody flinches as you’re thrown through the concrete wall, pinned down, poked and pinched. You ponder the size versus strength possibilities of this, but really can’t do the math. In fact as you’re lifted from the ground to be body slammed onto the bar counter you give a little jump to assist the manoeuvre because you still don’t comprehend the physics of the situation.
Why do you do this? You do it because through out all the biting and the giggling, the blood, the lust and the Chinese burns. With all the broken bar stools, missing teeth and shattered dreams, you realise that you have been here before, and that her dousing you in whatever it is inside that bottle and lighting up a smoke is supposedly a good thing.
I had an ice cream once… it’s true, and it was delicious. At least it would have been, I got about three licks in when BAM, little Tara Harris blind sided me out of nowhere, slapping the ice cream from my grasp and kicking my shin before storming off into the chaos of the primary school playground. Now I am not so proud to say that I did not take this well and if you must know I was 9 and I cried, I cried like a little girl.
Now what I didn’t know was that the school disco was coming up in a few days, so when that little bitch jumped me, naturally what she was actually saying was do you want to go to the disco? And the answer despite the shooting pain in my shin and the notion that she is a minion of the anti Christ, was yes. Noted it was primary school and the auditorium spent the whole night with girls on one side and boys on the other but we arrived together so it counts…shut up, it counts.
Lesson learned, love hurts. But you learn this as time goes on, although my time in the sun with that one failed to survive the 4th grade. There are only so many doors a 9 year old can walk into if you know what I mean. The nights were the scariest, she’d come home late, breath smelling of cheap whisky and oreo’s, furious that there was no steak on the table. I’d here the footsteps move slowly closer from down the hall mumbling incoherent sentences laced with naughty words, until they reached my door. I would hide under the covers in the early days but it was no good, she was to smart for that. The door would creak open and I’d be left gazing into the darkness at the slouching and half out of breath figure standing in the doorway. She had something in her hand…there was always something in her hand.
Ha, woman right! what are you gonna do?!
But there is a method to the madness, wether it be a non sexually aggressive first contact or an intended mental imprint/physical reminder that the person exists, it works and the dirty little secret is we all know it. Providing of course the setting is right. If you try to snatch a woman’s purse only to discover she’s a champion kickboxer or whatever don’t go misinterpreting the unholy beat down she unleashes as anything other then what it is, your nether regions may receive some attention but not the good kind so I wouldn’t count it as a win.
But in the right setting, completely different story.
The blurry-ness began to fade as I stared up from the floor watching Brance man-ing the fire extinguisher.
“Hey, Brance”
“Hey man” Brance said with a nod before firing off a few burst fire sssscccchhh’s, “I see your nights going well”
“Did I ever tell you that you’re a beautiful man”
ssssccccchhhh, ssssccccccchhhh “Several times, yes” ssssccccchhhh.
“oh”
I flinched, fearing the worst as I felt a hand clasp mine helping me to my feet. But James just smiled as he patted out a small flame on the back of my shoulder.
“When’d you get here?”
“Just now, I got a little held up with some…” he paused as if considering the consequences of his statement and then continued.”…stuff. hey, you got a smoke”
I reached in my pocket and pulled a cigarette out of the now crumpled pack.
“yeah but there a little, you know! It’s been kind of a physically demanding night”
James straightened it out with his fingers before leaning over and lighting it from a small blaze still going on the top pocket of my shirt
“I can see that” he said as he slowly stepped to the side.
Sssssssccccchhhh
“Cheers Brance”
Brance just nodded in approval.
“So how is it coming along then?” James asked as he scanned the bar
“Pretty good I think” I replied as I moved some broken glasses of the bar counter so I could lean on it. James saw this and raised his eyebrows.
“What? Oh, she kind of threw me on the bar and dragged me across it for a while"
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“Alright, my man” James replied as he lifted his hand high in the air. Brance watched with an undeniable aura of confusion as we high fived the said bar dragging incident.
“Are you two idiots serious?”
“What? You don’t think she’s hot?”
“Don’t think she’s!?...” Brance pauses as the confusion continues “Are you insane? You look like you’ve been attacked by some form of jungle cat. and not like one that’s lived in captivity or something, but like a real bad ass, don’t fuck with me kinda cat from Africa, you know that right?”
I looked at James for a second opinion to find him nodding in agreement
“I did not, no! but i’m still pretty certain it’s going well?
“Brance looked at James for a second opinion to find him again nodding in agreement
“Oh come on man, she set you on fire!”
“I know right, I think I’m in with a shot”
James signalled with his head as they approached, we all chatted for a bit before she slapped my drink from my grasp, kicked me in the shin and stormed off into the chaos of the playground. To which I then followed.
“She set you on fire” Brance yelled as I began to disappear, to which I continued onward only replying with a thumbs up, held high in the air as I pressed on.
"Oh to be young again" James sighed as he flagged down the bartender. "Make it strong barkeep"
"And how did your thing go?" Ang asked whilst claiming the adjacent bar stool.
"it doesn't matter"
"sure it does how did..."
"Ang! seriously. Just leave it"
"You're the boss"
Both were left staring straight ahead for a few moments silence
"So you got next round"
it took a second but James turned with a smile
"Barkeep"
I woke up in a dumpster some time later.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Dead remote batteries
Famous quotes:
Beth, complaining to James how she has all these bruises on her but has no idea where they came from.
"oh, some might have come from when I was poking you with my poking stick when you fell asleep."
We all had a good laugh and that was that.
side note:
Two days later James and I were hanging out playing Halo in his room when the phone rang. As I searched for the remote I was stunned to see James reach for the phone with one hand and reach under his bed with the other, revealing a long, thin, wooden device. a device he then proceeded to wave around in the air until he managed to rest it on the televisions volume button.
It took a while to click but I got there eventually.
Evidently the statement "When I was poking you with my poking stick when you fell asleep" Not a euphemism!, completely literal.... you just can't make this shit up.
It did occur to me later that none of us were laughing at the same thing.
I was laughing from some slick wordplay and childish guy humour, Beth was laughing at the idea of James poking her with his man made poker stick thingy as she slept, and James was laughing at the fact that I was under the impression he was talking about his penis when he was actually not.
Recently though James was belting out a rant about his boss to which he referred to him utilizing his poking stick. The statement confused me more than that of which I'm proud of.
Beth, complaining to James how she has all these bruises on her but has no idea where they came from.
"oh, some might have come from when I was poking you with my poking stick when you fell asleep."
We all had a good laugh and that was that.
side note:
Two days later James and I were hanging out playing Halo in his room when the phone rang. As I searched for the remote I was stunned to see James reach for the phone with one hand and reach under his bed with the other, revealing a long, thin, wooden device. a device he then proceeded to wave around in the air until he managed to rest it on the televisions volume button.
It took a while to click but I got there eventually.
Evidently the statement "When I was poking you with my poking stick when you fell asleep" Not a euphemism!, completely literal.... you just can't make this shit up.
It did occur to me later that none of us were laughing at the same thing.
I was laughing from some slick wordplay and childish guy humour, Beth was laughing at the idea of James poking her with his man made poker stick thingy as she slept, and James was laughing at the fact that I was under the impression he was talking about his penis when he was actually not.
Recently though James was belting out a rant about his boss to which he referred to him utilizing his poking stick. The statement confused me more than that of which I'm proud of.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Magic Beans
Collapsed over the bar counter in a massive heap the giant lay sobbing over his failed marriage. It was late and the bartender knew he should have cut him off earlier but hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, but the hours had gone bye and he had to close up.
Impressively he had manage to be quite stealthy in swiping another bottle of wine from behind the counter when the bartenders back was turned, mentally congratulating himself on his stealth like abilities as he shuffled out the door mumbling in coherent sentences laced with hurt and blasphemies.
A long, detoured path the giant walked until he could finally see the lights of his home fumbling around for his keys as he came closer, the giant tripped on a hard log of some sort sending him quite majestically through the air before crash landing into the cloudy surface below. Crawling back across the ground to find his unfinished bottle of wine, he found himself baffled that he had never noticed this rather large root emerging from the ground like the top of a large vine or something. Convinced it was the evidence of foul play by that heartless wench who ripped his heart out he staggered to his feet, screaming “you bitch” whilst hurling the bottle into the abyss, instantly feeling regret and wishing he had just a little more time with his wine.
Slowly he made his way through the house and finally to his room. The harp had mentioned something to him as he walked past but the giant was still in mourning over his wine and cared so very, very little about anything else but bed. Face down the giant dropped in his bed and there he lay until morning light.
The sun beamed in through the window and the giant was woken by his soul rejecting everything the sun stood for, head throbbing the giant made his way back through the house to find some aspirin bypassing the harps room as he is always greeted with a lecture from that self righteous stringed instrument after a big night. Downing the extra strength pain killers, he fetched from the cabinet a box of goose food and went about delivering the gooses breakfast.
Confused that his beloved goose was not in his room or his pond the giant sought to consult with his harp to see if she knew where the goose had gone. Horror swept over the giants face as he opened the door to see his harp also missing. Consumed by rage the giant raced to the telephone.
“you heartless bitch”
“oh it’s you hello”
“its not enough you slept with someone else but you think you can just come in here and take whatever you want, well guess what! pre nup baby, you signed it”
“look David I have no idea what your talking about”
“and I don’t even know why you took my harp, the harp doesn’t even like you”
“Listen I didn’t take your stupid….wait, what? What did she say?”
“who?”
“the harp!”
“what?”
“what did the harp say about me?”
“oh, does it really matter?”
“that bitch!”
At that moment the giant looked from his window to see what looked like his harp and his goose both of them mouths gagged, slowly levitating slightly of the ground, away from the house. Dropping the phone the giant rushed outside to see a tiny man darting across his yard carrying his friends like a waiter carrying two massive piles of plates in each hand.
“hey” the giant yelled as he followed in pursuit, still feeling the after affects of last night. Baffled at the great strength and speed of this creature for the size of his body he watched as he ducked underneath what looked like a tree root. Thinking to have him cornered the giant began to reason with him.
”look, give me back my harp and my goose and I wont call the cops”
but after no answer, he cautiously crept closer to see that it was not a root but the top of a very tall tree, again impressed by the skill of this burglar as it climbed down this gigantic tree whilst both hands, still keeping the goose and harp captive he attempted to climb down after him only to be boldly reminded by his lack of co ordination that he was still indeed a little drunk.
Slowly, he mounted the mighty fern and one foot at a time began to climb down after him, never looking down, just eyes closed, repeating “just one at a time, just one at a time” like a mantra in his head.
Eventually the giant muscled up the courage to look to see the bottom but as he did he found that he could neither see the ground nor the thief anymore, but as he began to pick up the pace he began to feel a faint vibration in the tree, at first it was nothing almost un noticeable but it slowly grew greater and greater as this unstable vine began to shake with every vibration. Realizing what was happening the giant looked up and found that he couldn’t see the top either, frantically the giant began to rush down the tree losing his footing several times whilst screaming nay begging the creature to stop, but the vibrations just got greater and greater as the pleading giant wailed in despiration.
Finally a loud crack gave way and the stalk began to tip, the giant paused with fear clenching the branch tightly as it began to fall. He began to see the faces of all the people he’d known and loved as the rushing sound of the wind echoed through his ears, he thought of his ex wife and his goose that he had raised from birth, he smiled as he remember the long nights up talking to his harp, just shooting the breeze and having a good time He remembered everything and was reminded that he had lost them all, his wife, his best friend even his pet were gone everything he had ever loved now just a memory, his happiest of memories now his most painfull replay in his head until finally he could remember no more.
The giant hit the ground with a mighty thud as the creature, with a conquering smirk tossed aside the cutting object, a broken shard from what seemed to be from a gigantic sized wine bottle. He picked up the goose and the harp, mouths still gagged and walked back to his home and lived happily ever after.
Impressively he had manage to be quite stealthy in swiping another bottle of wine from behind the counter when the bartenders back was turned, mentally congratulating himself on his stealth like abilities as he shuffled out the door mumbling in coherent sentences laced with hurt and blasphemies.
A long, detoured path the giant walked until he could finally see the lights of his home fumbling around for his keys as he came closer, the giant tripped on a hard log of some sort sending him quite majestically through the air before crash landing into the cloudy surface below. Crawling back across the ground to find his unfinished bottle of wine, he found himself baffled that he had never noticed this rather large root emerging from the ground like the top of a large vine or something. Convinced it was the evidence of foul play by that heartless wench who ripped his heart out he staggered to his feet, screaming “you bitch” whilst hurling the bottle into the abyss, instantly feeling regret and wishing he had just a little more time with his wine.
Slowly he made his way through the house and finally to his room. The harp had mentioned something to him as he walked past but the giant was still in mourning over his wine and cared so very, very little about anything else but bed. Face down the giant dropped in his bed and there he lay until morning light.
The sun beamed in through the window and the giant was woken by his soul rejecting everything the sun stood for, head throbbing the giant made his way back through the house to find some aspirin bypassing the harps room as he is always greeted with a lecture from that self righteous stringed instrument after a big night. Downing the extra strength pain killers, he fetched from the cabinet a box of goose food and went about delivering the gooses breakfast.
Confused that his beloved goose was not in his room or his pond the giant sought to consult with his harp to see if she knew where the goose had gone. Horror swept over the giants face as he opened the door to see his harp also missing. Consumed by rage the giant raced to the telephone.
“you heartless bitch”
“oh it’s you hello”
“its not enough you slept with someone else but you think you can just come in here and take whatever you want, well guess what! pre nup baby, you signed it”
“look David I have no idea what your talking about”
“and I don’t even know why you took my harp, the harp doesn’t even like you”
“Listen I didn’t take your stupid….wait, what? What did she say?”
“who?”
“the harp!”
“what?”
“what did the harp say about me?”
“oh, does it really matter?”
“that bitch!”
At that moment the giant looked from his window to see what looked like his harp and his goose both of them mouths gagged, slowly levitating slightly of the ground, away from the house. Dropping the phone the giant rushed outside to see a tiny man darting across his yard carrying his friends like a waiter carrying two massive piles of plates in each hand.
“hey” the giant yelled as he followed in pursuit, still feeling the after affects of last night. Baffled at the great strength and speed of this creature for the size of his body he watched as he ducked underneath what looked like a tree root. Thinking to have him cornered the giant began to reason with him.
”look, give me back my harp and my goose and I wont call the cops”
but after no answer, he cautiously crept closer to see that it was not a root but the top of a very tall tree, again impressed by the skill of this burglar as it climbed down this gigantic tree whilst both hands, still keeping the goose and harp captive he attempted to climb down after him only to be boldly reminded by his lack of co ordination that he was still indeed a little drunk.
Slowly, he mounted the mighty fern and one foot at a time began to climb down after him, never looking down, just eyes closed, repeating “just one at a time, just one at a time” like a mantra in his head.
Eventually the giant muscled up the courage to look to see the bottom but as he did he found that he could neither see the ground nor the thief anymore, but as he began to pick up the pace he began to feel a faint vibration in the tree, at first it was nothing almost un noticeable but it slowly grew greater and greater as this unstable vine began to shake with every vibration. Realizing what was happening the giant looked up and found that he couldn’t see the top either, frantically the giant began to rush down the tree losing his footing several times whilst screaming nay begging the creature to stop, but the vibrations just got greater and greater as the pleading giant wailed in despiration.
Finally a loud crack gave way and the stalk began to tip, the giant paused with fear clenching the branch tightly as it began to fall. He began to see the faces of all the people he’d known and loved as the rushing sound of the wind echoed through his ears, he thought of his ex wife and his goose that he had raised from birth, he smiled as he remember the long nights up talking to his harp, just shooting the breeze and having a good time He remembered everything and was reminded that he had lost them all, his wife, his best friend even his pet were gone everything he had ever loved now just a memory, his happiest of memories now his most painfull replay in his head until finally he could remember no more.
The giant hit the ground with a mighty thud as the creature, with a conquering smirk tossed aside the cutting object, a broken shard from what seemed to be from a gigantic sized wine bottle. He picked up the goose and the harp, mouths still gagged and walked back to his home and lived happily ever after.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Team Ramrod
A wise man once said to me, a good friend will bail you out of jail but a great friend will be sitting in the cell next to you announcing “that was fucking hilarious”. Actually, this guy wasn’t so much a wise man as much as he was just man, in fact his only claims to fame was not his intelligence but his ability to dot the I’s in the snow and creating multiple objects, shapes and animals with his…. You know what! he could dot the I’s in the snow, nothing else.
I found myself reflecting on these words as reality hit me. This is the code, the great divider between BFF and just F. Those lucky enough to have it are truly blessed whilst those who don’t are considered alone and in the dark. In some cases there are some whom have it in spades and are considered to be bounding around naked, in the orchard above the dark hole where those who don’t are kept. Eating grapes from the vine and chuckling at the others misfortune, announcing at great volume that the view is much better from up here.
And that it is, except for today, today the world seems a little darker as one of my hypothetical fellow prisonees aka orchard dwellers, is heading off for greener pastures in the land of berets, baggett’s and Doc Holiday moustaches.
It would seem my friend the competitions will die with your absence as I know not a worthy adversary in any other. To put a spin on things I do look forward to the hours of extra time coming my way as it is well known that anything with the slightest hint of opposition must be kept away from us at all costs, as nothing else even comes close to imminent until we can claim a winner.
For those in the cheap seats, I’m not just talking about the obvious stuff here, although many a night a drunkin game of ping pong has resulted in playing through till the sun comes up hours after everybody has called it in “alright, alright best out of 1,987,555” , Im talking bout the off chance that one leaps over a fence to get somewhere and the next few hours consists of brave new ways of leaping fences until one is either crowed champion or pronounced dead.
“o.k one foot take off from behind the bush, over the fence, no hands, eyes closed and the overhanging tree branch must tip off your hat….GO!”
Perhaps now that your going I can be a little more productive with my free time. maybe I’ll chase butterflies or something. I did however take on board your suggestions and am sorry to say that sweeping ice is not something I see myself doing in the near future, Broomball is not a sport man! it’s a chore, a god damn household chore, but judge not lest yee be judged, I accept you for who you are and so as a statement of my support in your choice of , ahem “sports” I decided to do a little research on the old google and found a new sport that’s way up your alley man, I mean its not that big yet but baby, we could take it to the top!
Check it, Extreme Ironing man, think about it, you get all the awesomeness that being extreme has to offer, plus the bonus of having a nice crease free shirt when your finished, its win win.
And so as I ponder the future, I cant help but think about the past. I guess it only seemed logical to join forces as it would only be a matter of time before one of us decided to finally bury that hatchet deep into the others skull, not out of hate or spite, but for supreme unchallengeable power. In hindsight, apart from the manslaughter charges, that would have proved to be a mistake. For then Team Ramrod would never have been and the world would go on believing that there wasn’t something out there who could beat them in absolutely everything.
Mercifully, those that have risen against us have been playfully patronised due to their positions, unfortunately resorting to a drastic name change being the only awesome thing left of their team. You know who you are, Team awesome sucks and I say that out of love, love and an awareness of suckyness and those renowned for bringing the suck.
Apart we were strong but together we were invincible, Id like to take some part of the credit but that would be misleading for though there are fields of my own expertise, the truth is it is you who carries the torch even though I will never ever say it again and will be forced to delete this line if it is ever quoted.
And so, the Gods felt threatened and Team Ramrod has been separated into opposite sides of the world, A sad, sad day indeed my friend for we are now doomed to move out of the golden years and into a world without mindless competitions, without pointless arguments and impossible bets, a world without complete and utter desecration and humiliation, A world without RamRod.
Gods speed Superman, You will be missed
I found myself reflecting on these words as reality hit me. This is the code, the great divider between BFF and just F. Those lucky enough to have it are truly blessed whilst those who don’t are considered alone and in the dark. In some cases there are some whom have it in spades and are considered to be bounding around naked, in the orchard above the dark hole where those who don’t are kept. Eating grapes from the vine and chuckling at the others misfortune, announcing at great volume that the view is much better from up here.
And that it is, except for today, today the world seems a little darker as one of my hypothetical fellow prisonees aka orchard dwellers, is heading off for greener pastures in the land of berets, baggett’s and Doc Holiday moustaches.
It would seem my friend the competitions will die with your absence as I know not a worthy adversary in any other. To put a spin on things I do look forward to the hours of extra time coming my way as it is well known that anything with the slightest hint of opposition must be kept away from us at all costs, as nothing else even comes close to imminent until we can claim a winner.
For those in the cheap seats, I’m not just talking about the obvious stuff here, although many a night a drunkin game of ping pong has resulted in playing through till the sun comes up hours after everybody has called it in “alright, alright best out of 1,987,555” , Im talking bout the off chance that one leaps over a fence to get somewhere and the next few hours consists of brave new ways of leaping fences until one is either crowed champion or pronounced dead.
“o.k one foot take off from behind the bush, over the fence, no hands, eyes closed and the overhanging tree branch must tip off your hat….GO!”
Perhaps now that your going I can be a little more productive with my free time. maybe I’ll chase butterflies or something. I did however take on board your suggestions and am sorry to say that sweeping ice is not something I see myself doing in the near future, Broomball is not a sport man! it’s a chore, a god damn household chore, but judge not lest yee be judged, I accept you for who you are and so as a statement of my support in your choice of , ahem “sports” I decided to do a little research on the old google and found a new sport that’s way up your alley man, I mean its not that big yet but baby, we could take it to the top!
Check it, Extreme Ironing man, think about it, you get all the awesomeness that being extreme has to offer, plus the bonus of having a nice crease free shirt when your finished, its win win.
And so as I ponder the future, I cant help but think about the past. I guess it only seemed logical to join forces as it would only be a matter of time before one of us decided to finally bury that hatchet deep into the others skull, not out of hate or spite, but for supreme unchallengeable power. In hindsight, apart from the manslaughter charges, that would have proved to be a mistake. For then Team Ramrod would never have been and the world would go on believing that there wasn’t something out there who could beat them in absolutely everything.
Mercifully, those that have risen against us have been playfully patronised due to their positions, unfortunately resorting to a drastic name change being the only awesome thing left of their team. You know who you are, Team awesome sucks and I say that out of love, love and an awareness of suckyness and those renowned for bringing the suck.
Apart we were strong but together we were invincible, Id like to take some part of the credit but that would be misleading for though there are fields of my own expertise, the truth is it is you who carries the torch even though I will never ever say it again and will be forced to delete this line if it is ever quoted.
And so, the Gods felt threatened and Team Ramrod has been separated into opposite sides of the world, A sad, sad day indeed my friend for we are now doomed to move out of the golden years and into a world without mindless competitions, without pointless arguments and impossible bets, a world without complete and utter desecration and humiliation, A world without RamRod.
Gods speed Superman, You will be missed
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Designated
"What?! that's bullshit"
"Bullshit nothing, why you being so selfish?"
"Nope, uh uh, no way you ain't switching this to me man, no sir."
"I can see your confused and that's o.k your friends are here for you, we are all here, just let it out big guy"
"Ha your funny, anybody ever tell you how funny you are, I bet you get told how funny you are all the God damn time, hell the things a man could do with that kinda gift, you know, the gift of being funny, shit a man could do great things"
"I am deeply sorry for your loss, really I am and I wish I could help you, really I do but my hands are tied, really they are."
"This is some serious BS, so you guys get to...and I have to.....oh this is Bull shit"
"Tell you what first ones on me. Diet or regular?"
"I hate you."
"what"??
"you, I hate you"
"oh o.k"
Grant sat:
slumped in his chair in shear disappointment, questioning the humanism of his fellow man. There sat the designated driver, a noble charge but heavy lies the crown. In honour we drink to your sacrifice made here tonight and in justice our hangovers shall be quite severe.
Grant drank coke and ate burger rings:
Reflecting on the duty, it really does suck you'll get no arguments from me, butit is my belief that there are worse things that can happen to a man. Think about it, all the free food, cigarettes and coke you can devour not to mention the satisfaction of being the only mammal in the room with the ability to make intelligent decisions. I picture it as a similar situation to a journalist in a documentary on the life of penguins, with the journalist standing in the middle giving the report whilst the little retards are running around in circles, bumping into each other, sliding down hills and trying to chat up the hot bartender. Stupid sea birds, shes a lesbian. Though there is no competition as to who is having more fun I'm sure there is a certain satisfaction gained.
Grant drove:
The night was nearing its end and at last the time of the designated was upon us. last rounds were called and we wandered out marvelling at the beauty of the stars and arguing the unknown truths of the universe, its creation and how its all relevant to how in life we should all just chill. I'm told the argument continued as the 6 of us piled into Grants Hyundai and were carted away to our various destinations.
Grant receives the Congressional Medal of Honour:
One by one our intoxicated band of mystical theologians dispersed. with every house separating our bonding session just that extra seat more. To the credit of Grant he did earn himself the medal of honour in going over and above the call of duty, Tim in his inebriated state had locked himself out in which Grant proceeded to help him remove the fly screen and climb through the window whilst the rest of us remained semi conscious in the warmth of the car. Even as I stumbled out of the car I do remember being escorted to the house and even having the spare key fetched so I wouldn't make to much noise, I was later reminded of my passionate speech of adoration, confessing my love for Grant and how he is a great friend and so on and so on.
THE NEXT MORNING
"Good morning pumpkin"
"groan"
"Breakfast is on if you want some"
"groan"
"Hey kiddo, I don't suppose you know where Kevin is do you?"
"how the hell should I know wher...wait what?"
It was Angela, Angela looking for Kev. Why you ask? lets recap.
Remember the whole Tim being locked out and Grant having to jig the fly screen and help his drunken ass through the window. well there is a simple and logical explanation for that....IT WASN'T HIS HOUSE and remember my being escorted to the door...aha yeah, again a simple explanation IT WASN'T MY HOUSE. Ang was looking for Kev because Kev was MIA and in his stead was a pants less free loader passed out on her lounge, nothing says good morning like an unconscious, half naked intruder.
Grant had a plan:
Our designated friend had some how managed to not only drop us all of at each others houses but to keep us entertained long enough for us to not catch on to the whole devious plot. Naturally all of this amused Angela to no end, to which she took great delight in analysing the work and genius involved in pulling something like this off.
"He even got your pants...how did he get your pants? that's..well that's just incredible?"
"Look I dont know"
"well lets retrace your steps so you were wearing pants when he dropped you off yes?, walked you to the door with pants, lead you to the couch pants still in tact and then left sometime later with pants nowhere to be seen... hhmm what could possibly have happened, what indeed?"
"HA fucking HA, that's right you got me, Im a gay man. As gay as they come, very clever."
"Hey tell it to the pants Kiddo"
"are you not even remotely concerned that your husband didn't come home last night? maybe he's missing his pants to if yah no what I mean, eehh, wink wink, eehh say no more, say no more"
"Tell you what you look cold, very cold (giggle) I'll go get you the latest in leg warming technology"
leaving the room babbling to herself about something I suggested that she should probably call her new found hero to find out the where abouts of her husband if she ever wanted to see him alive again. Still marvelling in the deceitful genius that is Grant, she made her way to the phone returning several minutes later phone in hand and more importantly pants in the other. Standing in the patented phone to ear position I noticed a slight grin forming.
"What?"
"Its for you"
"what?"
"I'm pretty sure its for you"
She restated, whilst passing the phone to me smile now beaming from ear to ear. The phone had gone to voicemail and the leave a message after the beep had been replaced with a 3 min period of Grant in utter hysterics laughing and cackling as if he had just successfully stolen Christmas, jokes aside that was a nice touch. It took almost a week to get in contact with him on account of him deciding to not change his voice mail and let every call from us go to it but eventually he broke the silence.
"Hey man whats happening tonight?"
"Grant? that you?"
"Ah yeah man! whats wrong with you!? so where we headed?"
"Wow this is definitely unexpected I mean,I..I..I don't know what to say"
"how about a little information, like where we are going tonight, might be an idea"
"I'm just not sure I can trust again"
"Why!? did something happen?, whats up?"
"Well its about the pants I ... I want them back!"
"Those pants were a gift they belong to me now"
"But But"
"Its time to let go, they've gone to a better place"
"I hate you!"
"what?"
"you I hate you"
"oh o.k"
Grant is a Dick:
"Bullshit nothing, why you being so selfish?"
"Nope, uh uh, no way you ain't switching this to me man, no sir."
"I can see your confused and that's o.k your friends are here for you, we are all here, just let it out big guy"
"Ha your funny, anybody ever tell you how funny you are, I bet you get told how funny you are all the God damn time, hell the things a man could do with that kinda gift, you know, the gift of being funny, shit a man could do great things"
"I am deeply sorry for your loss, really I am and I wish I could help you, really I do but my hands are tied, really they are."
"This is some serious BS, so you guys get to...and I have to.....oh this is Bull shit"
"Tell you what first ones on me. Diet or regular?"
"I hate you."
"what"??
"you, I hate you"
"oh o.k"
Grant sat:
slumped in his chair in shear disappointment, questioning the humanism of his fellow man. There sat the designated driver, a noble charge but heavy lies the crown. In honour we drink to your sacrifice made here tonight and in justice our hangovers shall be quite severe.
Grant drank coke and ate burger rings:
Reflecting on the duty, it really does suck you'll get no arguments from me, butit is my belief that there are worse things that can happen to a man. Think about it, all the free food, cigarettes and coke you can devour not to mention the satisfaction of being the only mammal in the room with the ability to make intelligent decisions. I picture it as a similar situation to a journalist in a documentary on the life of penguins, with the journalist standing in the middle giving the report whilst the little retards are running around in circles, bumping into each other, sliding down hills and trying to chat up the hot bartender. Stupid sea birds, shes a lesbian. Though there is no competition as to who is having more fun I'm sure there is a certain satisfaction gained.
Grant drove:
The night was nearing its end and at last the time of the designated was upon us. last rounds were called and we wandered out marvelling at the beauty of the stars and arguing the unknown truths of the universe, its creation and how its all relevant to how in life we should all just chill. I'm told the argument continued as the 6 of us piled into Grants Hyundai and were carted away to our various destinations.
Grant receives the Congressional Medal of Honour:
One by one our intoxicated band of mystical theologians dispersed. with every house separating our bonding session just that extra seat more. To the credit of Grant he did earn himself the medal of honour in going over and above the call of duty, Tim in his inebriated state had locked himself out in which Grant proceeded to help him remove the fly screen and climb through the window whilst the rest of us remained semi conscious in the warmth of the car. Even as I stumbled out of the car I do remember being escorted to the house and even having the spare key fetched so I wouldn't make to much noise, I was later reminded of my passionate speech of adoration, confessing my love for Grant and how he is a great friend and so on and so on.
THE NEXT MORNING
"Good morning pumpkin"
"groan"
"Breakfast is on if you want some"
"groan"
"Hey kiddo, I don't suppose you know where Kevin is do you?"
"how the hell should I know wher...wait what?"
It was Angela, Angela looking for Kev. Why you ask? lets recap.
Remember the whole Tim being locked out and Grant having to jig the fly screen and help his drunken ass through the window. well there is a simple and logical explanation for that....IT WASN'T HIS HOUSE and remember my being escorted to the door...aha yeah, again a simple explanation IT WASN'T MY HOUSE. Ang was looking for Kev because Kev was MIA and in his stead was a pants less free loader passed out on her lounge, nothing says good morning like an unconscious, half naked intruder.
Grant had a plan:
Our designated friend had some how managed to not only drop us all of at each others houses but to keep us entertained long enough for us to not catch on to the whole devious plot. Naturally all of this amused Angela to no end, to which she took great delight in analysing the work and genius involved in pulling something like this off.
"He even got your pants...how did he get your pants? that's..well that's just incredible?"
"Look I dont know"
"well lets retrace your steps so you were wearing pants when he dropped you off yes?, walked you to the door with pants, lead you to the couch pants still in tact and then left sometime later with pants nowhere to be seen... hhmm what could possibly have happened, what indeed?"
"HA fucking HA, that's right you got me, Im a gay man. As gay as they come, very clever."
"Hey tell it to the pants Kiddo"
"are you not even remotely concerned that your husband didn't come home last night? maybe he's missing his pants to if yah no what I mean, eehh, wink wink, eehh say no more, say no more"
"Tell you what you look cold, very cold (giggle) I'll go get you the latest in leg warming technology"
leaving the room babbling to herself about something I suggested that she should probably call her new found hero to find out the where abouts of her husband if she ever wanted to see him alive again. Still marvelling in the deceitful genius that is Grant, she made her way to the phone returning several minutes later phone in hand and more importantly pants in the other. Standing in the patented phone to ear position I noticed a slight grin forming.
"What?"
"Its for you"
"what?"
"I'm pretty sure its for you"
She restated, whilst passing the phone to me smile now beaming from ear to ear. The phone had gone to voicemail and the leave a message after the beep had been replaced with a 3 min period of Grant in utter hysterics laughing and cackling as if he had just successfully stolen Christmas, jokes aside that was a nice touch. It took almost a week to get in contact with him on account of him deciding to not change his voice mail and let every call from us go to it but eventually he broke the silence.
"Hey man whats happening tonight?"
"Grant? that you?"
"Ah yeah man! whats wrong with you!? so where we headed?"
"Wow this is definitely unexpected I mean,I..I..I don't know what to say"
"how about a little information, like where we are going tonight, might be an idea"
"I'm just not sure I can trust again"
"Why!? did something happen?, whats up?"
"Well its about the pants I ... I want them back!"
"Those pants were a gift they belong to me now"
"But But"
"Its time to let go, they've gone to a better place"
"I hate you!"
"what?"
"you I hate you"
"oh o.k"
Grant is a Dick:
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Bringing Frenchy Back!
Every where I look these days one minority or another is crying out for acceptance, more rights and a 400k + bonus to ease the pain of being a pioneer in whatever the fuck you kids are getting into these days. I don’t wanna come off as some kind of hater or anything, truth be told its quite the opposite.
I feel these days im as pro choice as they come, dude wants to kiss a dude: you go for your life, 2 chicks getting married: hey, strangely hot. 4 guys decide to experiment with 2 girls a swing set and an Emu: look, I dont care. As far as im concerned your business is none of my business, live long and prosper. Just don’t bug me with it whilst I’m watching my cartoons. The whole Idea of me not caring means I’m not fussed what your doing but I sure as shit don’t want to hear about how hard it is to support your own decisions.
Pro choice-ism is the name of the game here people, possibly just a nice way of saying I don’t give a fuck-ism or I found myself a nice sweet spot on this fence here and I ain’t gonna move-ism.
Regardless of whether there is any substantial evidence to Pro choice-ism’s credibility as actual dialogue, there is however a defining moment one has with ones self when faced with reality and blessed with the knowledge that you are in fact, not the be all and end all of life as we know it.
“Hey self, what’s new?”
“Oh hey man, not much.”
“You wanna hear something crazy that I…”
“Sorry, im gonna have to stop you right there.”
“What!? Why?”
“Did you know that you are one smoking hot motha fucka, I mean hot damn.”
“You think so?”
“I know so!”
“Well thank you self, but may I continue?”
“Sure, I guess. Just as long as you know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That shit son you got it goin on, wooooohoooo.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
“You know it!”
“So you wanna know what I learnt today?”
“You bet your sweet Ass I do?”
“Did you know not everybody thinks like us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know all these other people we see walking around.”
“You mean the ugly ones?”
“Yeah, turns out none of them thinks like us.”
“What?”
“I know! apparently there is this thing called self perspective which is basically an outworking of ones up bringing and personal circumstances.”
“No shit”.
“And from that flows things like opinions and beliefs. Which couldn’t possibly be the same, because everybody has had different shit happen to them which altar’s their thinking, which is based from their up bringing, which is unique in the first place.”
“Well that’s just amazing, that’s what that is!”
“You said it!”
“………………”
“………………”
“So you wanna get some pizza?”
As necessary as all this is, there are some who will spend their whole life with not so much as an after thought of it. Studies have shown contributing factors such as religion and/or trailer parks play major roles in the almighty powers of ignorance, causing an individual to be stuck in that primary school mentality that we have all enjoyed at one stage of our junior years, in which it was perfectly acceptable nay justified for one complete stranger to call another complete stranger an idiot or evil just for the shear satisfaction of it all.
For the rest of us though, such imperative random abuse should now only be reserved for animals and ugly children, better to lock your sights on less repercussions by saving your frustration for those that cant legally defend themselves, lest bare the consequences of something like a male anatomy themed parade filled with naked people who dance freakishly well!.…..cause that would just be darn right nutty.
From the other side of the coin however, whenever you take on the norm you have to expect some kind of opposition, at the very least to the degree of what level of anti norm your shooting for. Honestly to expect otherwise would be nothing short of naive. something about with every force there is an equal and opposing force, Im no physicist but I do believe Mr Newton got it right with that third law of his and in my opinion the expectation of smooth sailing would be just plain ignorant. You gotta take the good with the bad besides Just because a few people don’t understand you, doesn’t mean the whole world is against you! Though it might be, I don’t know, I missed the last meeting.
In light of all of this, much to the amusement of those whom I surround myself with from day to day, I have taken an unnecessary liking to one particular item of clothing and have made it my very own personal vendetta to see its time live again. I love my beret, God help me I really do. More oval then round and without the girly little tip on the very top, my black beret is as much a part of me as it was to Che Guevara.
Granted it’s a risky maneuver so you have to play your cards exactly right to pull it off, for example always wearing matching clothes and at all times have the right angle tilted on that bad boy for maximum effect.
Behold the glory of it, bask in its greatness. Dwell in the presence of its awesomeinity For when you gaze upon it, you are not just seeing the past become present, oh no! you, my friend are staring at the future. Im bringing it back, oh yes! I’m gonna bring that motha back if it’s the last thing I do.
Much easier said than done!
Bringing it back however requires much more work then I first anticipated, advertising is a bitch and believe you me its not all cat walks and Chanel parties Its isolation and its pain. A never ending abyss of torment and ridicule to which all that seemed trusted is withered away leaving only mourning for what once was. Never again will I under estimate the power of anti conformity. lesson learned, communism is alive and well in the fashion industry. You wanna know why those puncy little Emo’s are always so upset, if something as minuet as a beret can cause incident, these fuckers are walking around in vampire costumes and shit, no wonder the little bastards cut themselves.
I feel for you my brothers, well maybe not quite! but I do have some advice: Through thick and thin one must endure the trials and tribulations set before him and press on to receive the prize. you gotta be sold out for the cause or else you aint gonna make it. Through blood, sweat and tears hold on for dear life, stray but a little and you will fail conceding your efforts as little more than a cry for attention……Well that and take the knife away from your fucking arm, your heart has not been raped, its not all about you!!
I received a call from James late-ish last Saturday, there were loud voices battling with loud music in the back round. It was hard to get a trace on their position but it was pretty much a guarantee that they were on the move. Before I could even get a word in he began shouting as to avoid both turning the music down or me not hearing his declaration.
“Dude! Jazz, The Basement. Woooooooh!, be at yours in 10.
“Can you make it 30, I just got home from..”
Argh! what the f…one more time Grant, just one more time and I swear im gonna fucking….Beep.
The basement is located in a side alley in Circular quay and is renowned for its groove, so I figured it was a pretty good time to market my line of head wear. I wasn’t really in the mood for a big night, but I am always up for some Jazz so I wasn’t going to argue the idea.
Aprox 40 mins later Kim's car rocked up Grant, Tim and Lisa in the back with James riding shotgun, for those that are counting that’s a full car. Opening the rear door released an amplified wave of yelling mixed with Dave Mathews belting out of all speakers. I squeezed myself into the already over populated back seat avoiding rubbing and being rubbed up as much as physically possible.
As I struggled to wedge myself into a dignified spot, James reached for the volume control as he swivelled around to inform me of his inspiration for the night, however as he turned his facial expression changed hinting that he had spontaneously changed what he was about to say.
“God damn it! again with the hat. You’re killing me man.”
“ What!? come on, this looks good and you know it, Im telling you Jim its coming back ”
“Irrelevant, every time man! every time you wear that thing. your like a magnet for random fire, its almost like your walkin around with no pants on or sumthan and who am I? i’ll tell you who I am, im the guy buying drinks for the guy with no pants on and how does that score? Not well my friend, not fucking well at all.
“Would you like me to take off my pants James! is that what your saying? Cause if that’s what your saying, you can just come right out and say it.”
“God What is it with you and your pants, its always about your pants isn’t it. seriously every time we talk dude we some how manage to get back to the pants and the lack there of, just once I'd like to sit down and have a nice conversation that doesnt involve male nudity, I think it would be a healthy change of pace for us, what do you say sport can you deal with that.”
“I think it looks good.” A voice cutting in from the drivers seat.
“Yeah, Word!”
“Kim, do you want me to go through the whole pants metaphor again”
“So I thought you said 10 mins. What up!”
“Yeah, we got some donuts on the way, it is Jazz night after all. Here.”
I failed to see the connection, but as he passed me half a box of double glazed, it began to matter less and less. We arrived at the Basement with a half hour till midnight to spare. Everything was already in motion a 6 piece band complete with a trumpet and a saxophone were in all definition rocking the joint, most tables were free on account of all the hippen and a hoppin going on stage side to which Tim and Lisa almost immediately disappeared into the crowd to join the masses whilst the rest of us set up camp at one of the tables. James dealt out some cigars like playing cards explaining “Jazz needs Cigars” I suppose it was irrelevant that we can't smoke inside anymore but it didn’t seem to stop his enthusiasm. He tucked his inside his inner jacket pocket and with that was off for first rounds. Returning with 4 scooners and a “Jazz needs alcohol” as he placed them down on the allocated coasters.
Several rounds had gone bye and somewhere in between Tim had returned Lisa less. I muscled up to retrieve next round and made my way to the bar. Watching the band I began to zone out, swaying and moving to their beat. Don’t know what it was, the music, the booze, maybe I was just tired, I know not. What I do know though, is that those cats had me feeling alllllll right!
3 maybe 5 minutes past when I was awoken from my trance by a tap on the shoulder. I slowly turned my head and greeted the tapper with a jolt of my head in an upward direction. There stood a medium sized man with bleached blond hair, in a white short sleeve t shirt his neck covered with a darkish scarf standing hands on hips, noticeably pushing his ass to one side.
“I like your hat” he snickered with a deceitful grin on his face.
Careful self he’s trying to trap you!
“Mhmm” I replied whilst handing the bartender a twenty.
"I had no idea we were back in the French revolution?"
And there it is.
“Mhmm” I replied whilst scooping up the drinks, again trying not to engage the conversation.
He had his own little posse of 2 guys seconding his every sentence with their ooohh’s and “oh ho, snap’s” which wasn’t as effective as it was agitating which come to think of, maybe that made it effective…Fuck.
“You know I was thinking of getting one of those big Napoleon hats with the feather and stuff but there just so darn hard to find maybe you could get me one when you go back to your little hat store.”
“Mhmm,Im sorry do I know you.”
No…and you never will” (backup choir)“ooooohh burn”
“Then why the fuck are we talking?” I questioned as I turned from facing the bar to facing him with the full intention of a cool strutting exit.
“Aha well played self. you sexy son of a bitch.”
The change in my approach through him off just a little but not soon after he rebutled with a:
“hey heres an idea why don’t you just leave the fashion to us hmm hows that sound”
Whilst this hate crime was being carried out James had decided to investigate after seeing a conversation developing which was clearly coming in between him and the consumption of his beer.
“What the hell man. Jazz needs alcohol! James needs alcohol….he paused for a second stared at me, then stared at the heckling choir and repeated…. Jazz and James need alcohol. So where’s the beef!”
“No beef, I was just telling your friend here to leave the fashion to us?”
James shot a look to me with all the expression of “No pants, its like no pants.” We both knew what he meant by the “us” in that sentence though neither of us was prepared to go there.
“Us? you mean like the, we hate hats anonymous club. how could he do that. then no one would get to wear any hats. then what the fuck are we gonna do in the summer to shield our faces? Huh! what then? Use a magazine… our hands, fuck that.
He smirked a little and continued…
“we’d be all red and shit, Now Im thirsty but rest assured see that guy over there” as he pointed to the bartender “That’s his under study, he’ll listen to all the hat discrimination you can conjure up mmkay……...mmkay”
And with that he took his beer out of my hands and we made our way back to the tables.
(Me in the back round chanting “Woooooh wooooh burn bitch woooh!!” ha not really I fought the urge.)
There was a delayed reaction and a yelling of something but it was hard to make out over the loudness of the music. I strolled over to my chair and dropped as if exhausted by irritation. Grant was smiling! I don’t know why, probably because he's a dick, Kim gave me a punch on the shoulder whilst asking un sympathetically:
“what’s up with you.”
I took a large mouth full of my beer and stared aimlessly into the wall across the room. James began to explain only to be interrupted.
“What the hell was that!?”
A slight pause struck the table with all except me grinning like obese children.
“I mean who the fu..? why the..? what the hell.”
James withdrew his cigar from his jacket pocket and bit down on the tip.
“The queen’s got a point man”
“Fuck off he does, his wearing a skin tight t-shirt with a scarf, a scarf??? , Its like 30ºC, Fuck him.”
“wait wait wait“ Grant interceded “you mean to tell me that even the dudemiester in the scarf thought you looked like a dick“
I acknowledged his comment with a sad drop of the head. Grant burst into tears of joy.
“Oh dude, im gonna go ahead and get you another drink”
“Im telling you the whole worlds gone to hell, people can were there pants around there ankles and its cool, giant hubcap belt buckles on skin tight white jeans that you have to use a jigsaw to cut the bastards off and you get stylish, but NOOO I cant look like a french men if I want. You know the French have more sex then the Dutch have pot.”
“But dude, no one likes the French”
“I like the French”
“but no one cares what you think”
“Yeah, Well no one cares what you think”
“I hardly see how that’s relevant”
“ You…but….I….Screw you man Im bringing it back”
“And so you shall, but not tonight co-chief. Not tonight”
It seems to me the majority of people couldn’t really care less whether Xenu is your homeboy or if you smoke pole for a living or even if you are just one big giant pole in a scarf, however wearing a beret is entirely much more freedom that any man really needs. "you sir, have the right to vote and the right to carry a firearm but I just gotta ask, what the fuck is that on your head?"
Apparently there is a line and wearing a beret sends you sailing majestically right over that Bi-atch. I guess some shit is just to serious to fuck with.
In the grand scheme of things I suppose it really doesn’t matter Noah had his critics too and you know what happened to them…Their DEAD ass hole, down to the very last wise ass, floating face down in a sea of there own comedic genius.
Screw you guys, I’m Bringing it Back, you'll see!
I feel these days im as pro choice as they come, dude wants to kiss a dude: you go for your life, 2 chicks getting married: hey, strangely hot. 4 guys decide to experiment with 2 girls a swing set and an Emu: look, I dont care. As far as im concerned your business is none of my business, live long and prosper. Just don’t bug me with it whilst I’m watching my cartoons. The whole Idea of me not caring means I’m not fussed what your doing but I sure as shit don’t want to hear about how hard it is to support your own decisions.
Pro choice-ism is the name of the game here people, possibly just a nice way of saying I don’t give a fuck-ism or I found myself a nice sweet spot on this fence here and I ain’t gonna move-ism.
Regardless of whether there is any substantial evidence to Pro choice-ism’s credibility as actual dialogue, there is however a defining moment one has with ones self when faced with reality and blessed with the knowledge that you are in fact, not the be all and end all of life as we know it.
“Hey self, what’s new?”
“Oh hey man, not much.”
“You wanna hear something crazy that I…”
“Sorry, im gonna have to stop you right there.”
“What!? Why?”
“Did you know that you are one smoking hot motha fucka, I mean hot damn.”
“You think so?”
“I know so!”
“Well thank you self, but may I continue?”
“Sure, I guess. Just as long as you know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That shit son you got it goin on, wooooohoooo.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
“You know it!”
“So you wanna know what I learnt today?”
“You bet your sweet Ass I do?”
“Did you know not everybody thinks like us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know all these other people we see walking around.”
“You mean the ugly ones?”
“Yeah, turns out none of them thinks like us.”
“What?”
“I know! apparently there is this thing called self perspective which is basically an outworking of ones up bringing and personal circumstances.”
“No shit”.
“And from that flows things like opinions and beliefs. Which couldn’t possibly be the same, because everybody has had different shit happen to them which altar’s their thinking, which is based from their up bringing, which is unique in the first place.”
“Well that’s just amazing, that’s what that is!”
“You said it!”
“………………”
“………………”
“So you wanna get some pizza?”
As necessary as all this is, there are some who will spend their whole life with not so much as an after thought of it. Studies have shown contributing factors such as religion and/or trailer parks play major roles in the almighty powers of ignorance, causing an individual to be stuck in that primary school mentality that we have all enjoyed at one stage of our junior years, in which it was perfectly acceptable nay justified for one complete stranger to call another complete stranger an idiot or evil just for the shear satisfaction of it all.
For the rest of us though, such imperative random abuse should now only be reserved for animals and ugly children, better to lock your sights on less repercussions by saving your frustration for those that cant legally defend themselves, lest bare the consequences of something like a male anatomy themed parade filled with naked people who dance freakishly well!.…..cause that would just be darn right nutty.
From the other side of the coin however, whenever you take on the norm you have to expect some kind of opposition, at the very least to the degree of what level of anti norm your shooting for. Honestly to expect otherwise would be nothing short of naive. something about with every force there is an equal and opposing force, Im no physicist but I do believe Mr Newton got it right with that third law of his and in my opinion the expectation of smooth sailing would be just plain ignorant. You gotta take the good with the bad besides Just because a few people don’t understand you, doesn’t mean the whole world is against you! Though it might be, I don’t know, I missed the last meeting.
In light of all of this, much to the amusement of those whom I surround myself with from day to day, I have taken an unnecessary liking to one particular item of clothing and have made it my very own personal vendetta to see its time live again. I love my beret, God help me I really do. More oval then round and without the girly little tip on the very top, my black beret is as much a part of me as it was to Che Guevara.
Granted it’s a risky maneuver so you have to play your cards exactly right to pull it off, for example always wearing matching clothes and at all times have the right angle tilted on that bad boy for maximum effect.
Behold the glory of it, bask in its greatness. Dwell in the presence of its awesomeinity For when you gaze upon it, you are not just seeing the past become present, oh no! you, my friend are staring at the future. Im bringing it back, oh yes! I’m gonna bring that motha back if it’s the last thing I do.
Much easier said than done!
Bringing it back however requires much more work then I first anticipated, advertising is a bitch and believe you me its not all cat walks and Chanel parties Its isolation and its pain. A never ending abyss of torment and ridicule to which all that seemed trusted is withered away leaving only mourning for what once was. Never again will I under estimate the power of anti conformity. lesson learned, communism is alive and well in the fashion industry. You wanna know why those puncy little Emo’s are always so upset, if something as minuet as a beret can cause incident, these fuckers are walking around in vampire costumes and shit, no wonder the little bastards cut themselves.
I feel for you my brothers, well maybe not quite! but I do have some advice: Through thick and thin one must endure the trials and tribulations set before him and press on to receive the prize. you gotta be sold out for the cause or else you aint gonna make it. Through blood, sweat and tears hold on for dear life, stray but a little and you will fail conceding your efforts as little more than a cry for attention……Well that and take the knife away from your fucking arm, your heart has not been raped, its not all about you!!
I received a call from James late-ish last Saturday, there were loud voices battling with loud music in the back round. It was hard to get a trace on their position but it was pretty much a guarantee that they were on the move. Before I could even get a word in he began shouting as to avoid both turning the music down or me not hearing his declaration.
“Dude! Jazz, The Basement. Woooooooh!, be at yours in 10.
“Can you make it 30, I just got home from..”
Argh! what the f…one more time Grant, just one more time and I swear im gonna fucking….Beep.
The basement is located in a side alley in Circular quay and is renowned for its groove, so I figured it was a pretty good time to market my line of head wear. I wasn’t really in the mood for a big night, but I am always up for some Jazz so I wasn’t going to argue the idea.
Aprox 40 mins later Kim's car rocked up Grant, Tim and Lisa in the back with James riding shotgun, for those that are counting that’s a full car. Opening the rear door released an amplified wave of yelling mixed with Dave Mathews belting out of all speakers. I squeezed myself into the already over populated back seat avoiding rubbing and being rubbed up as much as physically possible.
As I struggled to wedge myself into a dignified spot, James reached for the volume control as he swivelled around to inform me of his inspiration for the night, however as he turned his facial expression changed hinting that he had spontaneously changed what he was about to say.
“God damn it! again with the hat. You’re killing me man.”
“ What!? come on, this looks good and you know it, Im telling you Jim its coming back ”
“Irrelevant, every time man! every time you wear that thing. your like a magnet for random fire, its almost like your walkin around with no pants on or sumthan and who am I? i’ll tell you who I am, im the guy buying drinks for the guy with no pants on and how does that score? Not well my friend, not fucking well at all.
“Would you like me to take off my pants James! is that what your saying? Cause if that’s what your saying, you can just come right out and say it.”
“God What is it with you and your pants, its always about your pants isn’t it. seriously every time we talk dude we some how manage to get back to the pants and the lack there of, just once I'd like to sit down and have a nice conversation that doesnt involve male nudity, I think it would be a healthy change of pace for us, what do you say sport can you deal with that.”
“I think it looks good.” A voice cutting in from the drivers seat.
“Yeah, Word!”
“Kim, do you want me to go through the whole pants metaphor again”
“So I thought you said 10 mins. What up!”
“Yeah, we got some donuts on the way, it is Jazz night after all. Here.”
I failed to see the connection, but as he passed me half a box of double glazed, it began to matter less and less. We arrived at the Basement with a half hour till midnight to spare. Everything was already in motion a 6 piece band complete with a trumpet and a saxophone were in all definition rocking the joint, most tables were free on account of all the hippen and a hoppin going on stage side to which Tim and Lisa almost immediately disappeared into the crowd to join the masses whilst the rest of us set up camp at one of the tables. James dealt out some cigars like playing cards explaining “Jazz needs Cigars” I suppose it was irrelevant that we can't smoke inside anymore but it didn’t seem to stop his enthusiasm. He tucked his inside his inner jacket pocket and with that was off for first rounds. Returning with 4 scooners and a “Jazz needs alcohol” as he placed them down on the allocated coasters.
Several rounds had gone bye and somewhere in between Tim had returned Lisa less. I muscled up to retrieve next round and made my way to the bar. Watching the band I began to zone out, swaying and moving to their beat. Don’t know what it was, the music, the booze, maybe I was just tired, I know not. What I do know though, is that those cats had me feeling alllllll right!
3 maybe 5 minutes past when I was awoken from my trance by a tap on the shoulder. I slowly turned my head and greeted the tapper with a jolt of my head in an upward direction. There stood a medium sized man with bleached blond hair, in a white short sleeve t shirt his neck covered with a darkish scarf standing hands on hips, noticeably pushing his ass to one side.
“I like your hat” he snickered with a deceitful grin on his face.
Careful self he’s trying to trap you!
“Mhmm” I replied whilst handing the bartender a twenty.
"I had no idea we were back in the French revolution?"
And there it is.
“Mhmm” I replied whilst scooping up the drinks, again trying not to engage the conversation.
He had his own little posse of 2 guys seconding his every sentence with their ooohh’s and “oh ho, snap’s” which wasn’t as effective as it was agitating which come to think of, maybe that made it effective…Fuck.
“You know I was thinking of getting one of those big Napoleon hats with the feather and stuff but there just so darn hard to find maybe you could get me one when you go back to your little hat store.”
“Mhmm,Im sorry do I know you.”
No…and you never will” (backup choir)“ooooohh burn”
“Then why the fuck are we talking?” I questioned as I turned from facing the bar to facing him with the full intention of a cool strutting exit.
“Aha well played self. you sexy son of a bitch.”
The change in my approach through him off just a little but not soon after he rebutled with a:
“hey heres an idea why don’t you just leave the fashion to us hmm hows that sound”
Whilst this hate crime was being carried out James had decided to investigate after seeing a conversation developing which was clearly coming in between him and the consumption of his beer.
“What the hell man. Jazz needs alcohol! James needs alcohol….he paused for a second stared at me, then stared at the heckling choir and repeated…. Jazz and James need alcohol. So where’s the beef!”
“No beef, I was just telling your friend here to leave the fashion to us?”
James shot a look to me with all the expression of “No pants, its like no pants.” We both knew what he meant by the “us” in that sentence though neither of us was prepared to go there.
“Us? you mean like the, we hate hats anonymous club. how could he do that. then no one would get to wear any hats. then what the fuck are we gonna do in the summer to shield our faces? Huh! what then? Use a magazine… our hands, fuck that.
He smirked a little and continued…
“we’d be all red and shit, Now Im thirsty but rest assured see that guy over there” as he pointed to the bartender “That’s his under study, he’ll listen to all the hat discrimination you can conjure up mmkay……...mmkay”
And with that he took his beer out of my hands and we made our way back to the tables.
(Me in the back round chanting “Woooooh wooooh burn bitch woooh!!” ha not really I fought the urge.)
There was a delayed reaction and a yelling of something but it was hard to make out over the loudness of the music. I strolled over to my chair and dropped as if exhausted by irritation. Grant was smiling! I don’t know why, probably because he's a dick, Kim gave me a punch on the shoulder whilst asking un sympathetically:
“what’s up with you.”
I took a large mouth full of my beer and stared aimlessly into the wall across the room. James began to explain only to be interrupted.
“What the hell was that!?”
A slight pause struck the table with all except me grinning like obese children.
“I mean who the fu..? why the..? what the hell.”
James withdrew his cigar from his jacket pocket and bit down on the tip.
“The queen’s got a point man”
“Fuck off he does, his wearing a skin tight t-shirt with a scarf, a scarf??? , Its like 30ºC, Fuck him.”
“wait wait wait“ Grant interceded “you mean to tell me that even the dudemiester in the scarf thought you looked like a dick“
I acknowledged his comment with a sad drop of the head. Grant burst into tears of joy.
“Oh dude, im gonna go ahead and get you another drink”
“Im telling you the whole worlds gone to hell, people can were there pants around there ankles and its cool, giant hubcap belt buckles on skin tight white jeans that you have to use a jigsaw to cut the bastards off and you get stylish, but NOOO I cant look like a french men if I want. You know the French have more sex then the Dutch have pot.”
“But dude, no one likes the French”
“I like the French”
“but no one cares what you think”
“Yeah, Well no one cares what you think”
“I hardly see how that’s relevant”
“ You…but….I….Screw you man Im bringing it back”
“And so you shall, but not tonight co-chief. Not tonight”
It seems to me the majority of people couldn’t really care less whether Xenu is your homeboy or if you smoke pole for a living or even if you are just one big giant pole in a scarf, however wearing a beret is entirely much more freedom that any man really needs. "you sir, have the right to vote and the right to carry a firearm but I just gotta ask, what the fuck is that on your head?"
Apparently there is a line and wearing a beret sends you sailing majestically right over that Bi-atch. I guess some shit is just to serious to fuck with.
In the grand scheme of things I suppose it really doesn’t matter Noah had his critics too and you know what happened to them…Their DEAD ass hole, down to the very last wise ass, floating face down in a sea of there own comedic genius.
Screw you guys, I’m Bringing it Back, you'll see!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Letter of Redemption
To whom it may concern:
I am writing to you on this day because I feel compelled to answer to the rumours that may or may not have been brought to your attention. In this effort, hopefully I may put to rest any resentment or remorse to those that feel wronged in anyway, shape or form.
In the subject of Ryan, I’m afraid I must confirm that he is indeed bad ass! furthermore Taylor has proved much less aggravating then her predecessor. I also feel it necessary to note that Seth is in fact the man and Hercules seems only fitting as the father of said bad ass. It is true, if given the chance I would definitely do Taylor over Summer and have since noticed that every problem that resulted in death, injury or emotional pain can be pointed squarely at one person, a fact that to this day still keeps me up at night, although she did spend half a season with the blond girl which in turn cancels all the bad stuff out, another fact that keeps me up at night but for entirely different reasons.
I understand the consequences of this statement, however this is not my main concern in this matter. I am fully aware that my recent enthusiasm does not reflect the opinions and beliefs of my former self, so much so, the hypocrisy in its self may be too much for you to bear. Although at that time the words that were spoken most definitely outlined my previous stance in the matter, I feel obligated to express that though it was not an act of deceit at the time, I do not believe the statements declared both shamelessly and publicly to be of relevance anymore.
And so, a recant is in order. Understand, to my knowledge there was no documentation of said events. However foul play is still foul play, you have been wronged in my premature, inaccurate judgement and I am man enough to make things right.
J-mac, I’m sorry I lied,
There were not free showbags of tampons and lip balm at the 2nd season launch.
Dave, I apologise,
George Michael did not base his screen play on the events between you two, I didn’t even know George Michael had a screenplay!! And am aware if he does the possibility of it actually being about you is quite impossible.
Teenagers in JB HiFi:
Im pretty sure the theme song “California” is actually about the state California, a group of people going there, and all being very happy about it!! rather than a subliminal message about the climax in a Californication manfest, im not even sure that’s a word let alone an act. I know I referred to the red hot chilli peppers but be assured there is no connection between the two songs.
Again J-mac I’m sorry,
I did not see a new fruit, vodka and kahlua beverage called the orange county being handed out for advertisement at the front door of the Toolbox. Truth be told I have never been east of George st, let alone down Kings cross.
Guy waiting in line at the tattoo parlour,
I was not undecided over whether the I heart R.A tattoo on the producers bicep, stood for I heart Ryan Atwood, I heart Ryans Ass or Iceland hearts Ryans Assets. He doesn’t have a tattoo, I don’t have a tattoo, I just wanted some gummi bears.
The bathrooms, toilets and rest room walls of N.S.W (and parts in Europe).
J-mac is not the Lord, King, Mayor, General, Matradee, Ambassador, Zoo Keeper or Pool Cleaner of Homotown, there is no Homotown! nor anyone who occupies it.
If I have missed anything let it be known here and now that I whole heartedly apologise for that too and in no way find the contents or actions of whatever was said or done amusing from any perspective what so ever.
Before you today stands a corrected man bemused to the fact that I could have ever protested anything with Lesbians, cage matches and Kevin Sorbo in it. I openly confess that I have turned from my wicked ways and am now on the path of a higher knowledge and though my hypocrisy knows no bounds, I will seek redemption from this day forth.
Consider this my formal apology.
Forgive me, I knew not what I did.
Martinez
I heart Taylor 4ever
I am writing to you on this day because I feel compelled to answer to the rumours that may or may not have been brought to your attention. In this effort, hopefully I may put to rest any resentment or remorse to those that feel wronged in anyway, shape or form.
In the subject of Ryan, I’m afraid I must confirm that he is indeed bad ass! furthermore Taylor has proved much less aggravating then her predecessor. I also feel it necessary to note that Seth is in fact the man and Hercules seems only fitting as the father of said bad ass. It is true, if given the chance I would definitely do Taylor over Summer and have since noticed that every problem that resulted in death, injury or emotional pain can be pointed squarely at one person, a fact that to this day still keeps me up at night, although she did spend half a season with the blond girl which in turn cancels all the bad stuff out, another fact that keeps me up at night but for entirely different reasons.
I understand the consequences of this statement, however this is not my main concern in this matter. I am fully aware that my recent enthusiasm does not reflect the opinions and beliefs of my former self, so much so, the hypocrisy in its self may be too much for you to bear. Although at that time the words that were spoken most definitely outlined my previous stance in the matter, I feel obligated to express that though it was not an act of deceit at the time, I do not believe the statements declared both shamelessly and publicly to be of relevance anymore.
And so, a recant is in order. Understand, to my knowledge there was no documentation of said events. However foul play is still foul play, you have been wronged in my premature, inaccurate judgement and I am man enough to make things right.
J-mac, I’m sorry I lied,
There were not free showbags of tampons and lip balm at the 2nd season launch.
Dave, I apologise,
George Michael did not base his screen play on the events between you two, I didn’t even know George Michael had a screenplay!! And am aware if he does the possibility of it actually being about you is quite impossible.
Teenagers in JB HiFi:
Im pretty sure the theme song “California” is actually about the state California, a group of people going there, and all being very happy about it!! rather than a subliminal message about the climax in a Californication manfest, im not even sure that’s a word let alone an act. I know I referred to the red hot chilli peppers but be assured there is no connection between the two songs.
Again J-mac I’m sorry,
I did not see a new fruit, vodka and kahlua beverage called the orange county being handed out for advertisement at the front door of the Toolbox. Truth be told I have never been east of George st, let alone down Kings cross.
Guy waiting in line at the tattoo parlour,
I was not undecided over whether the I heart R.A tattoo on the producers bicep, stood for I heart Ryan Atwood, I heart Ryans Ass or Iceland hearts Ryans Assets. He doesn’t have a tattoo, I don’t have a tattoo, I just wanted some gummi bears.
The bathrooms, toilets and rest room walls of N.S.W (and parts in Europe).
J-mac is not the Lord, King, Mayor, General, Matradee, Ambassador, Zoo Keeper or Pool Cleaner of Homotown, there is no Homotown! nor anyone who occupies it.
If I have missed anything let it be known here and now that I whole heartedly apologise for that too and in no way find the contents or actions of whatever was said or done amusing from any perspective what so ever.
Before you today stands a corrected man bemused to the fact that I could have ever protested anything with Lesbians, cage matches and Kevin Sorbo in it. I openly confess that I have turned from my wicked ways and am now on the path of a higher knowledge and though my hypocrisy knows no bounds, I will seek redemption from this day forth.
Consider this my formal apology.
Forgive me, I knew not what I did.
Martinez
I heart Taylor 4ever
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