Swarming Backfireless Tadpoles

I feel like people don't hobnob as much as they used to. 

Hob? Sure. People hob all the time. Everywhere you go you hear people say 'wanna hob with me tonight' and the reply is always 'YYYYYEEEEEESSSSS!' Which is always said so loud that people for blocks in every direction know that a hob adventure is about to begin. Some get inspired and start their own plans to hob, others use it as an excuse to get upset with their partner or friends 'you haven't taken me to hob for days, you worthless piece of shit'. 

Yes when a hob is in the air joy spreads like a locust storm where we humans are the frogs ready to eat locusts till we're so full we nap for days missing our tadpoles first day with legs, and decide to make up for it we'll just make more tadpoles, leading to a future swarm of frogs, ready to be eaten by foxes, who get high on the toxins and finally find the courage to demonstrate their beautiful skill of being sly. 

Some people even take it further and hobble. Especially if you knee them in the groin. 

Nob? People nob all the time. Damn straight they do. People nob like the clappers, which is interesting because when you nob well the response you get IS clapping. As in applause. Sometimes even by foxes, at least those not all high on frog guts. 

Half the people you meet even ARE nobs. So much so they can't even spell knob. Which is spelled that way because the rich and the powerful in the 1600s made a super wise decision to make some things unnecessarily difficult knowing that if they kept teenagers in school learning non-sensesical crap those brats would have less time to notice (and therefore tease) them due to the lack of the invention of the razor meaning even the rich guys wives had hairy underarms. 

Of course this also kept potential inventors of the razor instead wasting their time learning non-sensical crap, but that's the flaw of fact, and the term 'well that backfired you tool' hadn't been invented yet because so far tools had proven mostly useful. 

To sum up - hob? Yes. Nob? Regularly. But when was the last time you heard the cool kids praise, or for that matter saw a movie or listened to a song, where hobnobbing was worshipped? It's like once or twice a week at most. 

I am sad to say, Hobnobbing is probably over people. Aww. 

And you know what that means? I'll never even get to find out what the hell it is. Damn asshole rich and powerful seventeenth century assholes. I hope the next time you tongue out an armpit it's unpleasant!!! 

You know what I'm goddamn absolutely talking about....

Today was the best day of my life everybody, because I learned something. Wow, I am not sure how that reads, but the way I said it in my head as I typed it sounded so absolutely pretentious and condescending. Which is perfectly fine, there is nothing wrong with being a total twat on the inside, as long as on the outside you’re not a dick.

So you know what happened just there, I was watching some footage of a comedian doing dick jokes and I thought to myself ‘I am glad I don’t do those very often these days’ and lo and also behold (yet another genitalia based saying) I go and talk about twats and dicks.

The point is that I am still on the road, for anyone following my journey. (Lots of pics over at my instagram by the way, over there I am called ok_intriguing – feel free to follow me). So yeah, ‘get back on track, get your blog done, and go to bed for fucks sake Dave’, ‘ok David, I am too tired to fight with you today’, ‘ Well also how about you never fucking’….

Aggggghhh….

I learned stuff or something. Wait, yes! I learned that if you have been out of any big cities for a month or so, and then you suddenly see one (in today’s case Melbourne) they can suddenly be daunting. Have you ever noticed big stuff is totally big? But even bigger when you’ve been looking at little stuff mostly recently?

I am not, I repeat NOT, talking about genitalia here.

Oh I did see a woman today carrying a baby, and also with a young child in her arms. By which I mean she had a camel toe that looked like a baby had been shoved in her pants.

I’m tired, have I pointed that out yet? I’ve been sleeping in my car, which is fine, I mean I woke up in a god damn oven today, but I slept ok. And I’ve been driving lots on my own. And having lots of fun. But I’m tired.

Penis, vagina, merry-go-round, silence ender, jovial farfetched, chronic, gargantuan, fillifester, bullwhip, clientele – yep, I can still think of a bunch of random words in a row, I’m just too tired to put any order or point to them. Goodnight everybody.

Ps. If you’re ever in a orgy, I recommend suddenly stopping in the middle, turning the lights off, and going to sleep, right in the middle of the activities, but first saying ‘goodnight everybody’ but do it in the most pretentious and condescending voice you can.  You may not be liked, but you will be remembered.

PPs. This also works if you’re ever in a meeting with high-powered lawyers who are suing you after your recent attempt to blackmail the UN into giving you a small South East Asian Country. 

PPPs. And by ‘UN’ I mean undercurrent neutrality. And by ‘undercurrent neutrality’ I am god damn absolutely talking about testicles.

A lesson in bars

I haven't written my blog for today yet. As I am sure fans of my past six months of stone cold stubbornness about never ever going to sleep without posting a blog that day, will have noticed and protested. 

I'd like to join in the rioting but I simply cannot, as I am in my car at a random truck stop, in the middle of nowhere with no phone coverage or Wi-Fi whatsoever, as this is where I stopped when it came to my attention that I needed to pull over immediately or carsick throw up on myself. I haven't puked yet, but I did make an awesome observation about it:

'Puke on the grass is probably exciting to certain animals, birds maybe. Exciting cause they can eat it is the point'. Yep, that's the type of witticism I can conjure at even my most sick feeling times. 

I shall post this tomorrow morning at some point, after hopefully sleeping off this car sick by sleeping in the car. But before I attempt that I do have one more amazing comedy point to make to you all:

'I think if monkeys could talk most of the stuff they'd say would be monkey related "I'm a monkey" for example' - and this is obviously a demonstration of what I think zoo school would be like, especially monkey zoo school. 

Night every body, wherever you are, time for me to car sleep off carsick, who knows what tomorrow will bring?   Ear poke my ear hole to alleviate an ear ache? Or maybe I'll just watch monkeys eat puke. 

Ps. When I woke up I discovered a heavily pregnant lady breast feeding (yes) right next to my previous nights toilet region. You know what that means right? I think she about to give birth to a monkey! 

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.