Monday, December 14, 2009

Oh wait, on the other hand....

Do you already have a show, radio, TV, radio TV, TV internet, radio internet, internet, The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, but feel a nut flavored ass absurdly funny crazy haired Aussie would be a good side kick for your show? Give me a buzz, I don't need money, just an audience, and if you have one, why would I want to do all the work building one!!

Do you want to be a star? An awesomenessous star?

I want to launch a new internet talk show which will blow fucking minds away and redefine what people mean when they use the words 'entertainment' or 'watchable' (or just have a bit of fun, you know) and I need a hell yeah sidekick, so I'm going to talent search for one.

This is a talent search like no other ever before search for talent ever searched!!!

Not only do I have no cash prize, but I dont know where I will be living in the next few months so who knows if we can even do this job. (I believe in talk show creation and sex being premature is of up most importance) Actually fuck that, its LA people, I shall return soon, I will find a way, and this little idea of mine has way more chance of making it if I make it back to LA, because I like know people there, that are into TV and acting and stuff, so LA it is (likely contradicted later in this blog, but take my word for it) I am looking for talent in LA (that is unless someone was JUST about to offer me an awesome job somewhere else in which case fuck this competition I am fucking rich and famous)( that is unless its a shitty job, in which case I may do both)(I think I am over using brackets or parentheses as some may call it, I really am an abuser of things)(by the way I meant that bit way before, you better believe I can prematurely ejaculate hell yeah baby)(if your not into that ignore the last statement)(oh my god, get it out of your system right now dick head(())()())()), that feels better.

On the other hand if this thing takes off it will be a miracle and miracles are fucking cool!!!!!!

My dream sidekick shall include attributes or personality traits like this:

Be a talker, if you love to talk I can make you funny, and if you like to talk and are funny on your own I can just chill back, chip in a little weird statement and watch the money and chicks roll in

Be a good looking girl, got to get horny internet nerds to want to masturbate thinking about you, this is internet talk show key

Be a little bit nuts

Have some tech skills, I have very few (an ability to flirt your way into help from film tech types would be fine)

Have an ability to deal with a messed up mind like mine

And thats all it takes. Does anyone have any other suggestions on what a sidekick for me should be in possession of?

Do you want to volunteer to be my sidekick, do you want to nominate someone in Sydney, or perhaps LA or NYC (this is that contradiction I spoke of, make it LA please, unless I change my mind again, I do that a lot)!!!!

Your volunteering or nominating will literally change the history of the world (because the literal history kind of counts everything that ever happens doesn't it? If your specific enough, but please note this may or may NOT appear in future history books)(Keep in mind I have a big history based project in mind to do when I am older and wiser so I may add it to my own history books, stay tuned for those, they might be good)(I realize I did not get the ()()())((((()) out of my system. It turns out if you find an unnatural enjoyment for something and then you do it a whole bunch at once you still want to do it after. Please take note sex addicts, druggos, and alcoholics (if you do your own research and die from it, please don't tell me, it will make me sad, and I already have my own problems )()(()())(())(()((!!!!!!!!!

I want it to be a big world wide star search, which my millions (well beloved couple of hundred) of readers will participate in and fucking love.

Wait a minute I was sure I wrote this bit below earlier, and I can't be fucked to copy and paste right now, but this is another attribute of a potential side kick for me, actually there is three, and bad luck comes in threes, but its also third time lucky (feel free to make your own mind up if all three of these suggestions suck, or if the third one is lucky, or if cliches are annoying pieces of shit)

Be not too smart, or be really smart I can work really well with either, medium smarters can apply too, but please try and act or seem super smart or kind of dumb, also guys can apply if they are kind of lady like, or if they are just really funny.

Do not be a raging fan of injecting heroin through the eyeball

Be different, if you are a clone I dont really want you, unless you're like the clone of someone really talented and hot, then we can work on you, also if you are a clone, I might need to sell the scientific knowledge acquired by whoever cloned you, because that could be worth billions which would make an awesome budget for this show

Oh also writers, graphic designers, camera people, all those behind the scenes dealys, you want to work for free? Be on board hell yeah. I might try and build this into, you know like a thing, for people who want to work in the industry but want to carve there own path, and not be subject to the whims of the man (you know Howard Man, the guy who invented the calling out of a random sex as a way of suggesting your fighting back or something).

If you want to do an internet talk show but also want nothing to do with my show then contact me too, I might need a lead in, or a follow me, or competition or something, but I am going to set up like a little studio in my new home in Auckland New Zealand (I changed my mind again - just kidding, its still LA for now)(By the way I hate when people tell a joke and then say Just Kidding, if you mess up a joke so bad that people can't tell your kidding then saying just kidding doesn't do shit, I recommend instead punching yourself in the balls, that way people will either laugh or think you are a loose cannon psycho and not only will they never wish to mess with you, they shall (call back, hell yeah) laugh nervously at anything you say from now on, and a laugh is a laugh.

Speaking of laughs my show is going to have jokes like this:

Hey if your side kick is your side kick why are they on your side but then they don't kick you? Get it? Its like a play on words. A very sophisticated form of humor.

Although I guarantee we shall (someone would say we'll denying another shall a chance to live, you murderers) never do jokes like this:

If the President lives AND works in the White House, why isn't it called the White HOMEOFFICE!!!!!! Oh my god, I kill me

So thats my pitch. And its serious (as long as people actually volunteer, and/or nominate people and in reality invite a hundred friends each to participate) I will be doing a new internet talk show one of these days regardless, so be a part of it, it shall, (not it'll, that would murder a shall and sounds too much like little, TWO fuck ups) be awesomenessous.

PS. I like coining words and shall continue to do so often in my writing and performances, so keep your toes hot, because these things are going to be cool as a block of ice on a can of cupcake frosting

Awesomenessous - to be so awesome, people even kind of like it something, and others really like it, but others only kind of really like it, where as some find it weird and confusing and need to take a bush-walk to clear there sinuses (if they have a cold) and there minds.

Ps - My awesomenessous internet talk show is going to be live and interactive with my audience, so just be involved from the beginning, that way if it takes off you'll (sorry I mean) you shall be all "i was there from the beginning" and thats a pleasure you can wear as a supportive undergarment (I think that one was the official try too hard moment)

Thanks people.

Love and hugs from

Oh psspps: I am going to have a book giveaway with this one, free book to the best interactive supportive person each week, so thats nice isn't it?

A spanish outpouring

A few years ago I was backpacking around Europe with my best friend Goshie and we found ourselves in the beautiful sea side town of San Sebastian Spain. This was around two days since we had been in Paris and Goshie had turned to me and asked

“Where should we go next?”

“I reckon we should hit Spain!’ I replied

“Fuck that, we’re not flying to South America!” he whined.

Goshie and I have been best friends since the day as twelve year olds we were forced to sit next to each other on the first day of high school. At that time his little sister was just learning to talk and we would take time teaching her the names of famous skateboarders, now we attempt to use her for access to nimble young twenty year old girls just starting to walk down the electric walkway of a university aged sexual awakening.

When choosing best friends in pre-pubescence there are few things you think about other than how accessible there backyards are via bike, how advanced their video game collections are, how responsive they are to poorly crafted racist and gay jokes, and their ability to rip out a fart at the perfect time. One thing you do not think about is how their sleeping patterns will affect your ability to enjoy the great wide world.

Goshie, you see, is a snorer. He is the worst fucking snorer imaginable. His average night’s sleep sounds about the same as a teenage boy who gets curious about what it would feel like to stick his dick in the waste disposable unit. I’ve slept in the same bed with merely three people more than once, and he is one of them. I have slept in the same room as this guy a couple of hundreds of times. The longest romantic and sexual relationship I have ever had? About forty days. Fate is great! (oh that’s actually been expanded since I first penned this, wowser, grrr).

So we were in ..Spain.., sharing the spare room of an old ladies house with a French man, a guy from ....California.... and two beautiful young Swedish girls, when Goshie decided to cook us all pasta for dinner. After stuffing ourselves full of pasta, it was time for me to hold up a deal Goshie and I had agreed upon months earlier, he who cooks relaxes for the rest of the night and tries to impress any Scandinavian girls in the hostel with his Australian accent, where as he who does not cook but does eat is in charge of the dishes.

Only on this particular night we had been getting into the cheap Spanish wine at the same time and our heads were already buzzing, and we had been socializing, and we had plans to party till one of us passed out in a random back alley that night, so I piled the dishes high in the sink, like a dripping red leaning tower of Pisa, ran the water over the catastrophe zone until the sink was full of water and floating pasta bits picked out of people’s teeth, and I decided to take care of the dishes in the morning.

Ok, so at five in the morning the following day I wake up and remember something, the old lady who owned the house’s only rule – “keepa thingsa cleana or kicka outa!” (and I apologize for the stereotypical border line racist accent) I had a sink full of dishes, and I am not a clean freak by any nature, or even a daily clean underwear wearer if I am being honest, but I am a loyal man, and I did not want to get any of my friends kicked out of the hospice. Well to be slightly more honest, the two Swedish girls were both quite attractive. The day before we had all been on the beach with them in bikinis, and one of them demonstrated just how skinny she was (in a good way, not a sick anorexic way) by nesting her bikini waste band over the top off her two protruding hip bones, leaving a good inch deep gap between bikini material and skin right at the beginning of her well manicured public hair. So it was that the three of us boys spent the best part of the day surrounded by plenty of topless Spanish girls and tourists, as well as our eighteen year old Swedish friend giving us a literal doorway onto the next logical goal when leering at women. We all got sunburned backs and the sun never saw our fronts. When you are in board shorts and have no shirt on there is no other way to hide what you are really thinking other than burying it in the sand! We all also made plans to attempt to spend some time perhaps an inch or two further down her landing strip, and in a predawn alcohol fueled paranoid haze I was quite sure that getting her kicked out of her accommodation would not help me get any part of myself inside of her.

Anyway, I needed to clean those fucking dishes or I may not get the fuck I had been coveting for days, so I climb out of bed, feeling awful, about to get my hands into a pool of rich tomato flavored water. Only I did not find a pool of water with floating dishes, the water had drained out, and the left over pasta was now caked over all the dishes. Turns out we must have had more leftovers than I had thought; now I might get in trouble for not saving them for breakfast too, when backpacking on a tight budget, throwing out perfectly good food is very much frowned upon. Every movie which has a character who is an alcoholic has one common scene, the one where the protagonist goes searching through his horde of bottles trying to find one that still has some booze swimming at the bottom. This scene fucking sucks, because it is not true, alcoholics don’t leave half a bottle of piss lying around, they drink that shit, they are alcoholics! Well backpackers and food are nothing like that, but I have always wanted to whine about those scenes and thought this was as good a time as ever.

Unfortunately I could not find a fucking sponge or cleaning utensil anywhere, so as I dug into the sink to pull out spaghetti and sauce covered plates and pots, it dawned on me that I was to be cleaning these fuckers with my hands, and it was going to take some time. So I had to fucking scrub these things with my fingers, pressing hard to acquire some friction. I had to pick off dried up bits of onion with my fingernails, and scoop out deeper chunks of food congregating in deep pockets. It took a long time and I was not having the slightest bit of fun, but it was my job and I got the place looking clean enough, rinsed off the last memoirs of dinner from my hands, wiped them dry on my dirty boxer short covered ass, and climbed wearily back into bed.

Although before I was able to drift back to sleep the snoring next to me ceased for a moment. Then I heard Goshie whisper across at me “are you awake?”

“Sort of” I whispered back

“Hey don’t go near the sink, I had the worst spew in there when we came home last night!” he said back with a chuckle.

Oh I never did get to have sex with either of the Swedish girls either, although Goshie once talked them into a backyard wet t-shirt competition at a time when I wasn’t around. That bastard. And he didn’t even know Spain was in Europe!

Goshie is now a super talented fishing journalist by the way, look him up if you want to know how to catch huge fish from the rocks!