I promise

I had a long day on the road today. Really fucking long. And on the road. Which, by the way, is my favorite place to be on when I'm driving. Like I spent three weeks driving on nothing but the bone marrow removed from aliens that was hoped could be turned into a cure for melancholy, until it was discovered that aliens like melancholy, because in their societies it's a sign of screw-ball insistence that air-born hilarity is possible in raspberry flavored coffee, and therefore discarded as a cure option and instead turned into a road surface for cars driven exclusively by humans who live their entire existence in a grounded reality completely devoid of flights of fancy and unconscionable excavations of the imagination, once and it wasn't as smooth as the road. And while I was on the road I came to the following conclusions. 

- I'm tired.

- Really tired. 

- I need some sleep. 

- Lots of sleep. 

- To relieve my tiredness. 

- Which is 'really' in nature. 

I just have to write my daily blog and then I can go to bed. Oh man, I'll start writing it soon, I promise. 

A VERY good reason

Ok, fine, I'll tell you a VERY good reason to climb the next random stack of discarded newspaper you stumble upon in a dark alley next the back entrance to a combination Malaysian/Singaporean restaurant that secretly hosts underground poker tournaments in their basement which are regularly frequented by both high powered public officials and highly ranked organized crime bosses who both tip equally well the young waitress who had been working there since she ran away from an abusive family and has now nearly saved enough money to start her dream degree in communications at the local university which previously had had a bad reputation due to an unfortunate prank pulled by a former student involving a famous actress and several bodily fluids, but that reputation is on the up and up since two students started a world renowned phone app development company which now proudly boasts their apps on ninety five percent of worldwide smart phones and who in two short years have expanded to having offices on three different continents and employees in the hundreds, while combining financial success with a very generous philanthropic side, contributing to charities including, but not limited to, Cancer research, get kids fit campaigns, and several projects helping citizens in third world countries with everything from fresh water availability to schooling - because climbing stuff is a good way to get onto stuff! That's why.

Supercharged Reevaluations

Holy crap, I've just been thunderstruck with a revealing revelation: 

The make-up and beauty product company 'Revlon' and the mostly dormant yet spirited ideology of social revolution which lives deep within our otherwise cynical souls actually have a shit ton in common. 

Consider these truthful truthinations of undeniable fact: 

- Both Revlon and social Revolution look good on someone's lips, as long as the color choice is complimentary to the wearers complexion and other style choices. 

- Julia Roberts and/ or at least one other highly decorated actress has been involved in both. 

- A tonne of shit weighs the exact same as a ton of hope. 

- Is it 'tonne' or 'ton'? Depends where you are right? 

- Where you are currently is EXACTLY where you are!

- Neither Revlon nor social revolution have solved the ultimate question of why silence can be deafening. 

- You know, metaphorically, silence won't literally make you deaf, but it can plant a seed of lonely discontent with the potential to grow into a deafening primal scream which could ultimately make a person consider making drastic changes in their lives in an attempt to excavate the loneliness via encouraging more personal friendships by perhaps changing their regular eye-shadow brand and/or joining a social justice crusade! 

Holy fuck. That was all fact. Holy fuck, this isn't a coincidence people, shit is going to go down. Oh plus they both have 'rev' in their name so they probably love super-charged automobiles. Well I for one am heading to the woods, where I'm going to shovel up a shit ton of hope it all works out ok! 

Illuminating Thinganity

If you ask me not enough things in the world are vestibules anymore. No where near enough things. 

I mean obviously literal vestibules are still vestibules, not that they have to be, it's perfectly ok and understandable, even respectable, if you started out as vestibule and overtime morphed or evolved into say a haven for a rarely played baby grand piano, or a sanctuary for garbage bags full of presently unloved out of style ski-attire with plans to one day be donated to the poor and unfortunate to be worn on their next ski trip, or possibly even to a place now dominated by the large dog poo no one wants to clean up resulting in the whole family deciding to use the back door, at least until the cleaner comes on Friday. 

Yes, vestibule promotion is both fun and exciting, especially for the vestibule itself, after the long suffering loneliness that comes with a life being a mere passageway for people leaving on grand adventures, or returning for sweet homecomings. 

Of course the life of a vestibule can be trying at times, yet the rewards are great too. Such as the delightful odors that waft through from a perfumed lady dressed to lighten a town, and smelling equally as illuminating, or the delicious smell of the pizza, or possibly even Chinese food, magically delivered to the home. And who of course could ignore the two or three days a year the vestibule is awoken with activity when several drunks discover that if you scream out curse words they echo into the night. 'CUNT CUNt CUnt Cunt cunt'. Sweet sweet music to the vestibule. 

Which reminds me of my original point, why don't more of you things and cunts try being a vestibule? It's the passage way between something good and another thing good. Just for the sake of doing it. Not for the rewards on either side. It's a really nice thing to do. 

That awesome. That's generous. That's selfless. That's humanity, unless your a thing that's a vestibule, in which case it's thinganity. 

Plus if you do it for long enough and well enough, you too could be the home of a huge dog poo. 

How to get free pizza

How to get a free slice of pizza in ten easy steps, based on my experience this evening, where, keep in mind, I executed this plan utterly flawlessly:

1. Don't eat a meal all day. I mean seriously wait till after midnight. If you try this before twelve, or with food in your gut previously that day, then you’re not taking this seriously, you're making a mockery, and frankly I'm not sure if a filthy mocker deserves shit, let alone free pizza.
2. Think to yourself 'I could really go for a slice of pizza. Like hardcore. I haven't eaten all damn day. I'm hungry. Really fucking hungry. And it's literally after midnight'.
3. Realize that it's really fucking lucky that you listened to rule one, and that thank god you're bloody taking this seriously. Mockers don't get free pizza. Ever.
4. I mean how foolish would you feel if you got to number two after ignoring number one? Really foolish, that's how foolish.
5. And 'really' is a strong word. And not one you cannot imagine away, because it literally has the word 'real' in it.
6. Now as long as you’re taking things seriously, really serious, then it’s time to think something along the lines of 'I'd bathe in a bath filled with a bathload of spiders for a slice of pizza'.
7. And no, you don't have to do that literally. Now is the place for creativity. You just have to come up with the most horribly thing imaginable, and then take that thing and imagine a bathload of it.
8. It could even be mocking in nature. Yes, mocking. I'm not anti-mock. I never was. It's just got to be at the right time and place. A well placed mock can be an excellent breaker of tension in a tense situation, or lighten the mood in a dark situation, or even help friends become better friends though the brilliant art of mockery.
9. Find a place that has pizza. This is very important. Because it's one of the steps.
10. Buy a slice of pizza that turns out to be disgracefully awful. Just inedible bad. Like eating a rat’s ass sandwich.
11. Have them force a second slice onto you for free. Tell them you don't want it. But have them insist. And then eat it even though it's fucking awful, because you're too much of a pussy to be impolite.

Yep, follow these ten easy steps and you’ll be swimming in free pizza. I was, and today was the best day of my life.

How it went down

You know what would be totally cool? Getting your car nearly stolen! Ah hell yeah! Depending on how it went down of course.

Scenario one: Carjacking.

'Hey mate, I'm carjacking you'.
'I beg your pardon?'
'I'm fucking carjacking you!'
'You're gonna masturbate my car?'
'What?'
'You're going to jack off my car? That's weird and gross man'.
'Nah asshole, I'm carjacking you'.
'Me? Wait you're going to masturbate me with my car? I'm not into that sorry'.
'What the fucking are you talking about. I'm stealing this car'.
'Hang on, just cause I don't want you to jack me off with a vehicle is no reason to turn around and steal my car. That’s a weird specific fetish man, you can’t go around stealing a car off every person not into it’.

‘I never wanted to jack off anything!’

‘Yes you did. Did you or did you not say to me that you were carjacking me’.

‘I AM carjacking you’.

‘Look dude, you go ahead an jack what ever you want, but my light turned green, I’m out of here’.

‘Wait, no wait. I’m stealing your car. That’s all I ever wanted to do. I am sorry I used the word jacking, it’s just a miscommunication, but get out please, I am stealing it’.

‘Well if that’s all you ever wanted then why did you say that you were jacking it?’

‘Because jacking it’s cooler’.

‘Ha ha. Cooler? There is absolutely nothing cool happening here. You’re stealing a car? That’s as lame as it gets. Ha ha “oh I want a car but I can't afford one cause I'm too dumb and lazy to get a decent paying job, there's 16 year olds that have saved enough from working at McDonalds who can afford a car but I'm just a big dumb loser” ha ha. Cooler. That’s funny. Seeya dude’.

Scenario two: Stolen from its parking spot.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I am SURE I parked it there. That’s definitely where I parked it. Oh fuck, this fucking sucks. I knew I had bad feeling about this carpark. Fucking hell.

Twenty minutes later.  Now sweaty from having done several laps of the whole place.

It was definitely there. I definitely parked it there. This is fucking sickening. I better call the cops. This is humiliating. Wait, is that it over there. Holy fuck it is too. But I parked over here, not over there. Oh wait. That’s fucking right I WAS parked here, but I did such an embarrassingly bad job of getting between the lines, and then an even worse job of attempting to fix the bad job, that out of pure shame I moved it over there. But thank fuck I found it. Phew. Oh wait. Now my ticket will have expired and I will have to explain to the guy at the gate why it took me so long to get out. Could this get anymore mortifying?

Yep. Today I nearly had my car stolen, and one of the scenarios above is how it went down. It was the best day of my life.

Watching the pretty sounds

I'm a people watcher. As many people are. I'm also an eavesdropper. Because people say stuff, and stuff is often funny, and interesting, and profound. 

'Did you hear what Bill said?' You'll often hear people ask. 

'What?' Will happily come the reply. 

'Stuff' will come the answer. 

'Stuff? STUFF? I missed fucking STUFF? Nooooooo' will ALWAYS be the next thing said.  

And yet, yet eavesdropping has none of the respect that people watching has. Even though, and this is a fact, some people were people watching some people once, saying 'this is awesome, we're totally watching these people' and it turned out, and again this is fact, that the people they were watching, unbeknown to the watches, had had an awkward stage in their teens. 

I'm serious. 

But the people watchers were clueless. Why? Cause they didn't also eavesdrop. 

Ok, swell. We've established that eavesdropping can be swell. Well get this, I overhead some shit today, not intentionally, it just sort of happened. But this was it, this is all from different parties/ people over the course of thirty minutes or so. 

Ok, so I've reached where I meant to start, Overhead back to back today:

'If you play piano EVERYONE in England LOVES you'?

'What like sex toys?'

'Let's just say I'm really sore today'

'She left me with the bill as well' 

'Yeeeeaaah, I average eight a day'

'And he's raping the boy aged eleven'

Yep. Boom. Today was the best day of my life. 

Opinion Jelly

Here's a Dave guide on how to remain still even while someone's saying to you that they are of the opinion that you rock.

Just do it man, stay still. Boom. 

Or even better, screw stillness, send stillness the sad message that stillness is old news, and you're ready to read today's headlines. 

I mean why would you listen to old news? Like check out this headline. 

War Declared in Europe. 

That's old news. But you treat that as new news and you'll totally second guess your plans for a weekend getaway in Paris. 

'Hmm Eiffel tower? But hmm getting shot in the face?' 

That's second guessing and that's more guessing than anyone should guess. 

Consider this example of second guessing:

'I think there's one thousand two hundred and forty two jelly beans in the jar, no no no, wait, one thousand two hundred and forty three'.

Um, sorry dude, there were three thousand seven hundred and ninety eight, you were WAY off. You don't win the jar of jelly beans, and we get to take away one of your boats. Probably the big expensive one. Maybe you should have spent less time second guessing and more time reading the fine print of the guess how many jelly beans are in the jar competition. 

You dumbass. How did someone as dumb as you get in a position to own multiple boats anyway? Are all multiple boat owners so flamboyant with their second guessing and equally lackadaisical with fine print reading? 

Wait. I've just thought of a cool way to get a free boat. Here's what you do. Start a competition where people have to guess shit. Boom free boat. You're welcome. 

Wait, you wanted to know how to stay still even after people say to you that they are of the opinion that you rock. So you already have a boat don't you. 

Fuckers. Ok, well boat owners, check out this new news headline: 

How Many Middle Fingers Am I Holding Up?

(It was none, I'll be expecting some of your boats in the mail). 

http://www.adelaidefringe.com.au/fringetix/ok-intriguing-hell-yeah-the-love-chronicles/10c25d2a-5ab7-456a-97d7-c5851ed77ac9

Radiant Vindictive Stiches

 Hello everybody, today was the best day of my life because I had a super fun positive time hanging out with an old friend I don’t see very much, at his home, which I had never seen before

To put that in equation form:

Old friend + new home (to me at least) = enjoyment fun.

That’s awesome.

Where as think about this equation:

New friend + old home (to everyone) = unfortunate meth lab experience.

Which is not awesome. I mean even if you enjoy meth, or even if you do not enjoy meth but do enjoy meth related activities; it clearly states right there in the equation that it is an ‘unfortunate’ meth lab experience.

Or think about this equation:

Unfortunate meth lab experience + bad memories of unfortunate experience = no fun at all.

Wow. That’s awful. I’m starting to think, and I am not sure if anyone has ever thought something like this before, but there may be, possibly, a bad side to methamphetamines.

To make matters worse, think about this equation:

Possibly a bad side to methamphetamines + no fun at all = boo.

Holy crap. That’s awful.

I interrupt today’s blog for a little bit of down tootin’ honesty:

Ok, so I was singing to myself in the shower just before ‘fun positive, fun positive, I like being fun positive’ which was an awesome song I wrote AS I WAS SINGING IT! Yep, it just came out that great. And I thought to myself ‘hey, that’s right being fun positive feels good, think about that as you write tonight’s blog’. Which, I commenced to do.

Then, I thought to myself ‘is my reaction to visiting my friend coming off as sounding sarcastic? I think it does a little. I don’t intend that at all’.

Then I thought ‘is that really where I am in life? That I say something positive about something and automatically worry that it comes off as sarcastic? That’s fucking bullshit. I will not give into that way of thinking. Just keep exploring this idea that you have found, to put things into equations. That’s a fun game to play. Cause it’s math and math is always fun (now THAT was sarcasm)’.

Then I kept typing and somehow found myself somewhere down tootin’ awful – I discovered ‘boo’.

Yes ‘boo’. That’s what you yell when the villain comes on the screen in a movie, or what you scream when you’re a ghost attacking a child (although when you’re a ghost attacking an adult you are far subtler, and yet far more vindictive and determined), or what you shriek when someone asks ‘what’s a word that rhymes with glue and starts with the letter b, and isn’t the word blue’?

Well I don’t want any part of things that rhyme with glue and start with the letter b and yet aren’t spelled the same way as glue, only with the letter g changed for the letter b, I don’t want any fucking part at all damn it.

Consider this fun equation:

No fucking part at all + vindictive ghost attacking an adult = future meth head.

Wow, that’s almost full circle! Now that’s some darn tootin’ math that we can ALL have a fun positive time with.

Wait, ‘meth’ and ‘math’ are almost the same word, ha ha, zing!

Musical Breath

I'm currently sitting on the floor in a hallway next to the hotel I'm staying in's laundry room, as I am currently doing some laundry, and it has occurred to me that there is a metaphor for life in this activity somewhere. A fucking awesome metaphor if I'm being honest. I mean I haven't found it yet but it's in there. Mark my god damn fucking words it's in there. And I don't mean literally mark my words, unless you have some sort of pen that can write on musical breath. 

Wait, I've never thought of that before, but talking is like breathing out but altering the tone and shape of the breath to form words, which is like what a pianist does to a piano, so you know what, we're all musicians now, and as a world class musician I don't talk anymore, I deliver musical breath. I recommend you all do the same. 

Let's examine laundry further. You take all your nasty, dirty, sweaty, urine splotched, and filth covered clothes, stick em in a receptacle that's previously had all sorts of disgusting horrors thrown in there, clothes with spit and blood and skid marks and spilled food, sometimes food that wasn't even delicious, and this receptacle then flushes some water on it, like a toilet, spins it around like one of those puke enticing rides at amusement parks, and then sticks your clothes to its walls, for you to peel off, dry somehow, and put back on your disgusting liquid oozing skin. 

Now that I have broken this activity down to its fundamental truth it's clear to me that yes, doing laundry is definitely a metaphor for life, specifically the element of life where separation anxiety leads to splendid sensationalism. 

Let's examine that further. Say for example you miss your favorite pair of underwear while they are in the washing machine, leading to a severe case of separation anxiety. Now splendid sensationalism is but a guarantee. 

Obviously. 

I mean you're anxious. Possibly nude. Probably keen on some form of public display of opportunity rich hullabaloo. And there you go. 

Splendid sensationalism. 

It could also be a metaphor for life in that bad things can come good again, as long as you give it some time, and a little water and a splash of washing powder, which would be a lovely thing to be reminded of in times you're feeling low, but if that's it  then how come I'm not wearing underwear? 

Please join us again tomorrow during the best day of my life on this Ok, Intriguing:  Hell Yeah: Fleeting Forever, and if you get the time feel free to musically breath this to all your friends.

 

An inspirational option

Trashed. On the side of the road. Discarded. No longer needed. 

This is what I saw. 

A baby stroller and an old person walker. Both cast aside literally, to the side of the road.

The reality of the situation obvious to all. A baby has murder suicided with its granny. Tragic. 

But then a burst of optimism. At least from us given the gift of the bright side. The lining of silver. 

Perhaps the truth was actually something wonderful. A Granny, proud and wise, sees her grandchild grow up and grow out of the stroller and inspired she screams 'I too shall cast aside my aid of transportation, walker be gone!'

Inspirational. 

You know till she falls down and breaks a hip, and in an act of surrender and revenge murder suicides with the shitty little kid. 

Ah, optimism is awesome. 

A Valedictory Eloquent exit Soliloquy

I got given the gift of seeing a performance today that was so real and believable that it was almost like the performer was really living this nightmare. I think what made it stand out for me was that it was actually real, and it wasn't a performance at all. It was a woman who it seems had just been fired from the department store I happened to be in and was not taking it very well. I felt quite sad for her really. At least as sad as you can be for someone who is yelling ‘you fucking cunts’ in a very public space.

But what was really sad is this – it occurred to me that I have never been fired, and I am self-employed now, so I will probably never be fired. This means that I will never get my own moment to perform an eloquent exit soliloquy with true blood boiling rage sourced from the well of genuine unhappiness at being told that I am no longer worth paying a few bucks to show up somewhere regularly anymore. That sucks.

Although I could do it right here, just to get it out of my system, right? Yay.

‘Uh hmmm’.

‘Cough’.

‘Cough’.

‘Hchhmmm’.

‘You’re firing me?’…. ‘You fucking cunts!’

Boom!!! That felt awesome!

Wait, wait. I think I can do better.

‘Hchhhhmmmm’.

‘You’re firing me?’… ‘Um, why? Is this because I wrote graffiti in the bathroom accusing your wife of being a shaved monkey that you clearly have gotten lazy about shaving? Is it? Is it because for a whole year everyday I put a bug in your sandwich and most of the time you didn’t notice until you had half a bug in your mouth, and then when you started to notice I started to grind up bug parts so small they looked like pepper, and then sent you that anonymous email stating that pepper was great for your prostate health, and then that second email stating that I had heard you peeing a few times and your flow sounds very much like the flow of a man with an aggravated prostate? Is it? Is this because I stopped cleaning the bathrooms like my job requires and instead hired a small Cambodian lady to do it, and when she came to me saying that she wasn’t getting paid I said that you were stealing her pay and using it to fund an anti-Cambodian hate campaign that was starting to inspire a whole new wave of neo-Nazism? Is it? Is it because of the three weeks I didn’t come to work and instead sent in a clone I made of myself, but hadn’t bothered to notice that it only spoke Icelandic, and then when you busted me on it I said that I had a proud Icelandic heritage and that if you mentioned it again I would get the Iceland Mafia to give you an ‘Icelandic handshake’ which I didn’t say what was, only that if you got one it would be “the last ‘hand’ you’d ever shake” then told you Bjork was actually considered the sanest person in Iceland? Is it? Oh oh oh, it’s cause of “cutbacks” is it? Well, in that case… You fucking cunts’.

Oh yeah. That felt good. Today was the best day of my life.

Ducked under a bullet

I've come to the conclusion that if I had a bird beak instead of a left ass cheek the following would also be true:

- I'd find it hard to find comfortable pants.

- I’d find it hard to find a comfortable chair.
- Worms would look at me funny.
- Like I mean more funny than they currently do.
-Which is already pretty funny.
- Suspiciously funny.
- So if they looked at me more funny that would be very unnerving.

- And I like my nerves to stay nerves, frankly once they get unnerved then I don’t know what the hell I’ve got.
- Assholes would probably use puns around me more.
- Like 'who's hungry? I'm feeling peckish'.
- Oh ha ha. Dicks.

- I wouldn't want to go to jail.
- Like even less than I do now.
- You know, caged like a bird, ha ha ha. Wise assess.

- And just because I used the word ‘asses’ doesn’t mean that’s an excuse to say more mean things about my ass.

- Fucking assholes. 

- I'd find it hard to find a comfortable bike seat.

Oh man. That would suck. Thankfully only my right ass cheek is actually a bird beak. Man, dodged a bullet. It’s the best day of my life damn it.