Sunday, November 28, 2010

How to make an easy hundred bucks

Some things I realized late last night

I regret eating my own boogers

I also regret naming my dog 'my own boogers'

Because who calls their burgers 'dog' that's usually reserved for hot dogs

Which reminds me there is a hot bitch at my secret society of secreters meeting at midday on Tuesdays

But don't you tell her I said that

She always says it's no secret she kind of likes being called 'hot'

And I'd hate to have her kicked out of our secret society of secreters meetings for people saying stuff that isn't a secret

Because the secret society of secreters doesn't really exist

Well they really do, but I'll let you in on a secret, our newsletter is getting so popular that our printers are getting worried about keeping up with the demand

'Demand' of course being the nickname we have given to Mary the warehouse horse who is very fast

'Horse' of course being her other nickname because of her long history with salt addiction

It's kind of sad actually because most people don't realize that being salt addicted often means you're terrible in chip avoiding contests

Which were of course invented by Steve Evans a man famous for being so addicted to eating boogers he tried to destroy the snack industry by encouraging avoiding snacks with well funded and highly competitive chip avoiding contents

Steve of course being the hot bitches husband

That's why we call her 'hot' because as everyone knows chip production is a really cool job

Guys will say to girls in bars 'I work in chip production' and the girls will all be like 'that's so cool'

So with less chips eaten the world is less cool and therefore more hot because of her

Also she is really sweet which is why we call her a bitch

Its tough at our secret meetings to keep coming up with interesting and hilariously ironic nicknames because everyone is so uninteresting

Except for Steve who eats lots of boogers

Actually that reminds me, Steve bet me a hundred bucks I wouldn't 'eat my own boogers' and that's why I named that burger 'my own boogers'

You owe me a hundred bucks Steve, and I'm going to spend it ALL on chips, you loser

Geeze I'd hate to have THAT guys mind

Monday, November 22, 2010

Who had it worst?

Here is a sketch I wrote a year or two back trying to get a job on Saturday Night Live. I'm starting to think Lorne Michaels is never going to call me, so maybe I'll just post it here :)

GAME SHOW – WHO HAD IT WORST? – Bill/Jason/Kristin/Bobby/Michaela

By David Tieck





Hello and welcome to ‘Who had it worst?’ the game show where we

look at all kinds of suffering and decide who had it worst. I am your

host John Jefferies, now let’s meet our contestants. First up your

returning champs, please welcome back The Widens, Robert and Stephanie



Thanks for having us back


Yep, we are super excited to be back


Have you two been enjoying the boat you won last week?


Sure have




Wonderful, well let’s now meet our challengers, The Grahams,

Simon and Kate.



Now Simon, I understand that you are an accountant?


Yes that’s right, I do tax returns


Well lucky for you this isn’t the who has the worst job show!



And Kate you are a homemaker, that isn’t interesting at all, so ok,

it’s time to get started, ready for who had it worst round one.



Question one, who had it worst, the dodo bird or the Passenger Pigeon?



Both extinct but the Passenger Pigeon was hunted by humans where as the dodos did it to themselves, therefore the dodo will be treated worst in the afterlife, my answer is the dodo!


That is correct! Question two, who had it worst, Clipper fans or

Knicks fans?



Easy one, the clippers have no real fans, so it’s Knicks fans!


That’s correct! Question three, who had it worst, Hitler or Stalin?



Well the full Stalin Mustache is still popular around the world, but the Hitler Mustache has been all but eradicated, so Hitler had it worst!


That is correct!



And that is the end of round one where our defending champions have

leapt into the lead. Time to remind the viewers of the rules! Here on

‘Who had it worst?’ contestants must decide not just who had it worst,

but justify it in a manor which is true yet not the most obvious answer.

Time for round two, the body part round! Question one, who had it worst,

the Octomum’s uterus or Kirstie Alley’s rectum?



The Octomum’s uterus! Had to carry eight babies!


Ohhh, close but that is the most obvious answer I am sorry. Widens?


Kirstie Alley’s rectum. It has had to pass more gross tonnage!


That is correct! The Widens steal the points. Next question, who had it

worst A-rods needle riddled butt cheek, or Barry Bonds steroid induced ballooning head?



Barry Bonds head, because it is exposed where the butt is under the pants!


I am sorry, that is very close but wrong I am sorry


The answer is A-rods butt cheek, because on top of needles it had to

be felt up by Madonna’s veiny wrinkly old hands


You are spot on!


This is ridicules!


And that is the end of round two. Time now for the lightening round,

which is of course all about who had it worst when dealing with nature,

there is no need to buzz in this round, whoever answers quickest gets

the points. Who had it worst someone who dies in a fire or someone

who drowns in a flood?


The fire, because you leave an uglier corpse


Yes! Who had is worst someone caught in a hurricane or someone

caught in a tornado?


Tornado, because you’re more likely to be hit by a cow in a tornado


Yes! Who had it worst, the guy eaten by a bear or the guy eaten by a tiger?


The bear, because if the bear is about to hibernate it may be months

before you are fully digested


That is correct again! Wow, you two are on fire, no pun intended,

clean sweep.


Oh come on



This is madness!


Well that is the end of the lightening round. The Widens are way in front,

but we do have one final round and one more question. Who had it worst,

the horse killed and turned into dog food, or the dog killed and served in

a Korean restaurant?






You can do it Simon!



Um, um


Your answer please?


Ok, it’s the man who thought he ordered the beef but was accidently

served the dog which was cooked while it still had horse meat dog food in its belly


Oh my god, not only is that correct, but you have just pulled a third party,

which means you steal all of your opponent’s points to win the game!




As you know all prizes here on who’s had it worse are come

from property recently seized by police from criminals, and this

weeks prize is $10,000 cash in counterfeit $100 bills recently seized

from the mafia by the NYPD!



Wait, did you say counterfeit dollars?


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Cash and poo and other good stuff

That's AMAZING! Money, that grimy paper and disease ridden coins that we all scrounge over has an ability to communicate in a way which makes cow excrement develop legs full of enough muscles and bones and the like to WALK!

Let me break that down. Bulls eat grass, hay (and secretly discarded happy days comics which were printed on mass but never sold and are now force fed to bulls) and their four stomachs split those delicious ingredients up into the best nutrients for making beef, leather and bull-sperm (old farmer joke - the baby bull says to the daddy bull 'hey daddy want to run down there and fuck one of those cows?' 'No son, lets walk down there and fuck ALL of those cows') and the left over crap that isn't 'leather worthy' gets dumped out as shit.

Clearly if this left over waste had any brains it would have bribed stomach three to let it at least end up in sausage mince for pizza, but the fact it now ends up as waste is proof of its ignorance and frankly lack of effort while studying during its adolescent years.

So how on earth can this stupid pile of shit form the intelligence needed to use its mind to force its body into literally changing form and growing legs (and I am guessing even FEET - which smell, and that's a big risk to take for something already odor questionable as bullshit!).

By the way 'Odor Questionable' is the new name for my new line of bath salts, the title represents the fact that the bath salts are designed to change a persons odor over the course of the bath and therefore as the product is being used the odor can't be pinpointed down to one specific thing like 'lavender' or 'vanilla blueberry' or 'sweaty glove' therefore meaning it is 'questionable'. I think this honesty in labeling will soon catapult me to the top of the bath salt game!!!! 'LOOK there is David Tieck! He's the Odor Questionable bath salt king!' the girls will scream!

Point is this - the fact that this essentially retarded bullpoo is walking merely because money has been defying its own destiny and has started speaking up tells us something. Money, like the little man, the robots in Terminator and pigeons before it, has become self aware, it now knows it exists.

But it gets worse.

Money has begun to talk!

Wait we already had established that bit.

But it is saying stuff which is influencing shit. Literally shit. And as we all know once you have the shits the next stop is the bathroom business, which leads to toilet paper, which leads to the amazon rain-forest, which is full of weird and creepy animals, which will lead it to flee the forest for more urban areas where HUMANS live and before we know it money will have US!

If this isn't stopped at some point humans will be 'influenced' by money. It will be in our ear making us do stuff for it, like shitty jobs like cleaning toilets, or even shitty jobs like become lawyers and doctors. It will make us carry it around in leather, yes leather wallets and bags (see its not just got the bullshit, but its had some solid chats with bull stomachs two and four!). It will do stuff like trick your poor friend into thinking because he has less of it that you should buy him a beer from time to time but not ever verbalize that making you think sometimes your friend is just being a tightass when actually he just can't afford it - throw him a bone you bastards (NOT a bullbone please!).

Before you know it there will be things called 'girls' who think that somehow just because men like sex more than them we should have to buy them stuff all the time.

But it gets worse. I think if we allow this to keep developing - one day money may even influence, hold your breath - BANKS!!! Those nice fellows who put ATMs everywhere so we can always get cash, and let us have plastic money lending cards in our pockets in case we have poor money management and yet impulsive spending habits!

Also I think money may have a few seductive words to say to government, but I am not worried about that, those guys just want to help the community, they're never going to be as weak and manipulation suspect as bullshit.

Yet no one has bothered to figure out just what money is saying! It's madness!

I suspect it's - 'check out my scar, I got this one falling off a skateboard when I was nine' and from there all ears a pinned in anticipation of what could come next, because no story can start like that and not be AWESOME, so before you know it money has already said 'I'm kind of nice to own and you know buy stuff with' and you haven't even realized you have fallen under its trap.

Well I say we get the scientists working on figuring out just what this money is saying right now! (Also get onto how bullshit is growing them legs, I bet a few amputees would like to know something about that!)

In the meantime I'm going to the shops.

Oh no, oh no - I think they've got MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

Monday, November 15, 2010

Religion explained

It just occurred to me that last night my dream world took me into the heart of the Scientology celebrity center in Los Angeles where I saw John Travolta, Tom Cruise and for some reason Michael Douglas!!! Also everywhere you looked there were pools and hot-tubs and they were all full of topless girls.

Something about this dream made something painfully clear to me - I have a deep fear of one day getting to the bottom of my clean clothes pile and discovering that I have only one clean sock!

Cause then what the hell do you do?

Wear one dirty sock and one clean? Wear two dirty socks? Or wear no socks?

It’s a nightmare of numerous options all bone crunchingly awfully death like where they all suck and will make you look weird and other less than desirable type dealys.

It’s like being told you’re going to be shot, hung or stabbed, but only worse, cause with socks you have to live with your decision!

I really don't know how to handle this, I just hope they're is a solution to this fear in my dreams tonight, or you know, at least more topless girls.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I guess he broke my heart

I saw a soldier in fatigues in the vegetable section of the supermarket today and looking at him made my mind spontaneously start singing 'You ought to know' by Alanis Morissette.

That's right, I have officially completely gone nuts - I was in the vegetable section!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

I have a huge ass - bad style

You guys probably don’t know this, but in a country different from where you are I am sort of a big deal to people in that country (please decide where you are on your own and then think of somewhere else and imagine this is there).

You see I sing in this band – Poikilothermic, which is the official scientific word for “coldblooded”, and that is really fucking cool which means it’s a really cool band name which means we’re badass, like frogs and many breeds of fish who are also coldblooded badassness and eat bugs, which is super badass kind of meal like our badass band (please note ‘badass’ does not mean our asses are literally bad, they are normal perfectly functional asses with normal horrific functions)(please also note only men’s asses are used exclusively for horrific functions, the female ass is capable of all sorts of non-horrific things, from being photographed, sodomised or even to hold a smiley faced balloon between its cheeks to cheer up the sick kiddies). They call this the “circle of badassness” and it only exists in rare awesomenessous times!

This one time our badass band was doing a badass gig, and I guess we were sucking kind of hard (a term us rock stars use to suggest we are kicking ass because it reminds us of backpacks and their amazing ability to let you carry stuff while keeping your arms free to use vacuums), and this one guy, in some weird place in his mind thought something different I guess, like we weren’t awesome (I assumed he must not have had a vacuum, meaning his floor might have crumbs on it, poor guy), because this biscuit without a plate-face decided to throw a beer glass at me, and it hits me right on the temple, and knocked me out cold, right there on stage!

Yes the stage, that’s the bit raised up a bit meaning being knocked out is highly dangerous. (For the record it hurt, but I was too passed out to cry, yes that’s right I kick rock n roll ass!)

Also, and I don’t remember this bit specifically, because I was passed out, but apparently this cut opened up on my head like the parting of the red sea or something (by something I mean something actually red and opening, not like that lying fucking sea), and it ended up needing twenty stitches, which I am told is a lot (twenty stitches bad, twenty grand good – numbers sure are flip-floppers!), but it also meant there was lots of blood pouring out all over the stage, and with me passed out bleeding like that they decided to cut the power to the PA and all that so people could come and help me. (By people I mean my drummers grandmother, she was a sweet old lady who had gotten us this gig at her nursing home).

So they startle me awake, and now I see the house lights on, with a crowd of frustrated patrons (frustration makes six old couples look like a thousand strong army) looking at me sort of strangely, and I look down at my body and see all the blood, and then I started to cry (you can’t stay passed out and therefore not crying for ever I don’t care how badass you are) I was like really sobbing, cause you know I’m a badass like a frog which is an often wet faced creature, and I think I might have cried for my mommy, which is kind of weird because I don’t really ever remember my mommy being that comforting when I scraped my knee as a young boy, so I don’t know how I thought she could help me while bleeding and crying on stage (but if she was any kind of real mom she’d have prayed every night for my well being, this is rock n roll, a job where you can sing and play guitar and stuff, which are really different skill sets, and there is lots of prejudice about people with difference).

The ultimate fall out from this incident was far more severe than even I could imagine. The following day a memo went around the nursing home telling resident their grandkids weren’t allowed to come visit anymore if they claimed they were in a band. The man is always trying to hold down us rock gods!

If you can imagine it, from here is actually got worse? (Even though it is unbelievable I hope you can imagine it, because otherwise your imagination may be sort of weird, I mean you can imagine a coffee table with a beverage that is not a coffee on it, completely defying the very name of the table, but you can’t imagine things getting worse? That’s weird dude). Because of this one little incident, you know after someone showed camera phone footage of me bleeding and crying on the news, there was this huge fallout, and ultimately it lead to glass actually being banned from all pubs, bars and nursing homes in the country you are imagining this took place! I know!

Now everyone has to drink out of plastic, which has some insulation properties or what not that don’t keep your drink chilled to a preferential temperature for nearly as much time as glass would. That is science working against you! And people wonder why diseases no longer get cured. Science has turned man, can’t you see it? Where is the war on science?

Now in the country you are assuming this happened in we like our beer, and we like our beer icy cold, so people fucking hate this no glass rule. (If you fucking hate something does that mean you’re raping hate? Maybe hate brought it on itself with overly sexual clothes? Hate is such a whore.) And when people find a rule they hate they need someone to blame, and there were two obvious choices in this case. An unknown asshole who threw a beer glass, or a badass singer who fell into a pool of his own blood and burst into pathetic little girl tears, while on a stage wearing no shirt, and leather pants with four pair of socks stuffed into the crotch, all in front of a death metal old school old folks crowd and shown on the news. (Badass = good, asshole = bad = proof bad is better than ass = proof asshole = something good = once again science fucking with you!)

I have no idea why, but for some reason this country decided to blame not the glass thrower, but me the little girl death metal singer who used to go by the stage name “Paradox Daffodil (Monk’s Hood – which is a type of purple buttercup flower) (fireweed – which is a type of primrose flower)”, which at some point I thought was cool but for some reason the “press” called “wordy” (Fuck you press, you’re named after ironing, and that’s a lady chore, you ladies!) (Please note I am not actually sexist but as a badass rock n roller I am forced by law to appear as such from time to time or those pussy ladies will say mean things about me and I’ll cry).

So now every time someone here takes a sip of their beer and thinks “warm already” they follow that up with “I fucking want to kill that pathetic flower cunt” which isn’t a nice thing to think at all!

The other thing is that I really like going to pubs, bars and nursing homes, and I really like cold beer myself, and now I cant go into any place in this land without some prick spotting me and yelling out something like “grow stronger skin you turd”, and I’ll be like – “sorry sir, but the strength of my skin is just not something I have any control over, and besides apart from one unfortunate incident my skin has done a splendid job of holding in my blood, and frankly I think most people have skin with poor defense against flying glass plus a turd is another word for poo and I don’t think I am poo so your whole argument breaks down as soon as logic is added you turd!” But that never seems to be enough for them, and they usually threaten to make me bleed some more if I don’t get out of there soon.

So wait, have you ever realized that in essence your skin is literally just a big body shaped bag filled tight with blood, bones and organs? Imagine that skin bag draped over the back of a couch! Now that makes me think of the skin bag being like an inflatable raft where one little cut and it sinks, thank god for congealing blood, if you ask me (why did you make me imagine that, now I feel quesy, this is all your fault for not being so clearly able to imagine things getting worse earlier, and now I’m quesy, are you happy?)

So anyway I can never go to a pub, bar, nursing home again, thank god my grandparents’ are dead (see what this turd just made me thank GOD for? That’s kind of creepy, cause it was heart disease that killed them, not god, must be concussion making me miss-thank).

Even after this went on for a few months and I decided to ditch the leather pants and start wearing shirts with a nametag people STILL recognized me, it just sucks. The band ditched me too, apparently I didn’t “fit the image they were going for, for a death metal band” so it basically just ruined my life.

But at least I am kind of a big deal, and that’s badass.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


If your friend says you're thick as a block of wood it's an insult

If he says you're as thick as thieves it's a sweet commentary on your friendship.

But if he says you're as thick as the DNA from a teradactyle ball sack then he must have an awesome fossil collection and microscope and yet you've never invited me to come see! Come on guys. I thought we were friends, and after I said we were thick as thieves :( Boo.

This week was Australias big horse race, the Melbourne Cup which is said to 'stop the nation'. I could not be less interested in it, but because I had a five hour wait at a bus stop on my way to hangout in sunny Queensland for a week (I am writing this now as it rains outside so we can't go outside) and the bus stop was next to a pub which sold beer which I like, I ended up watching it anyway. Here are some of the thought I had while the big race was on.

The most fun thing about the Melbourne cup is seeing people all pissed off about losing while I maintain a breakeven guarentee!

Betting on these horses out for a jog is boring, I prefer to bet on the tredmills at the gym, those races are always INSANLY close :)

The optimist in me prefers to remember Jesus recieved a premium crusifixion- top of mountain, front & center, unobstructed views for miles!

The diciples were just premium stalkers, stalkers with benifits, no sex with me but also no sex with ANYONE - Yaaaaayyy

I'm an author, which is a sophisticated term for bookie, why aren't people lining up to donate ME money today?

My efforts to combine blues music with blue movies was going swimingly, until my request 4 a 'trumpet' solo went bad. (they didn't have one)

I bought self raising flour and I'm still waiting. I think I might waterboard it then burn its lazy ass alive in an oven!

I hate pop music, how can anyone listen to that manufactured generic crap? I think, as I joyfully devour my mcdonalds breakfast.

That last one was more of a thought I had while eating breakfast at the airport dealy :)

Hope everyone is having a sunny fun week!