And then...

And then there were the screeches from the metal bed frame dragging across the floor as it was being hauled towards the door, no longer welcome in the apartment ever since it was discovered that its owners brand new box of fancy trinkets won't fit under there, which is exactly where he planned to put them.

And then there was Sally yelling 'I told you not to buy those fancy trinkets. They were an ill-thought-out, poor consumer decision, and now we're resigned to purchasing a whole new bed frame to make this bed high enough for them to fit'. 

And then there was Jonathan saying 'but they're fancy trinkets!'  

And then there was Sally saying 'damn it you've got me'.

And then there were the tentacles that slammed through the windows and swept them into the mouth of the giant half squid half horse, which looked a little 'off' I guess you would say. It wasn't a natural combo. The whole thing looked awkward and unbalanced. Plus the segment where the squid skin morphed into horse hair was a bitch to find moisturizers for that didn't irritate. 

And then there was Sally and Jonathon who sure were glad they'd finished their fight before they were eaten to death. You know what they say 'you should never be ground up in giant hybrid animals teeth angry'. 

And then there was me, getting a FREE box of fancy trinkets! So it was pretty much an all around happy ending. 

Except for the giant squorce, who would soon discover its digestive system didn't like humans as much as its taste buds did. Plus it got the bed frame stuck between its teeth so it required a trip to the dentist. Who was obviously like 'you need to floss more' and it was like 'have you seen how big my teeth are? I have to use power lines for floss, and then people get pissed off that their phones don't work for a couple of days'.

And then there was the dentist saying 'I'm glad you added the "and then" in there, because that last paragraph nearly become the first one of this whole story that was lacking those words, plus who even uses their land lines anymore?' 

And then there was the squorce saying 'no you forget, you still need the line rental for your modem'. 

And there was the dentist saying 'oh yeah, I forgot about that'. 

Yep, it was definitely a happy ending all around. And then some! 

Bird

Just remember...

BIRDS WOULDN'T BE SO ARROGANT IF CATS COULD FLY! 

What you got to say about that? 

Ok, well played, you got me this time bird. 

Guest blogger - Adam Niven

Daves busy alright, so I'm writing today's blog. 

Do you need a bigger explanation than that? I don't know, he didn't give me intructions, he just called me up, and we caught up for a while, I told him how my kids were doing...

Hal - still married. Still not telling his wife that he had a weird 'needy' relationship with his mother. If you know what I mean, and I hope you don't, cause it's dark and fucked up, Dave knows what I mean though, so we talk about it, whatever, we're friends.

Suz - Still pretending to have cancer to get sympathy at work. She gets that from me. By which I mean I'm a cancer survivor so people believe her, she gets the conniving bitchiness from her mother. 

So you know, standard kid catch up. 

Then we talked about hermit crabs, Dave's for them, claims they're good at reminding sea and land creatures alike that it's ok to hide away sometimes, that's it's ok to carry your house on your back, and that it's ok to have a face full of sand occasionally, something he believes passionately seeing as he's long found sand to be the tastiest of all the  granulated shell and corral based forms of dirt-like substances that are not dirt. I'm not for them because the last time I went to the beach one of them nipped my scrotum. Sure you could say that my scrotum should have been tucked tightly in my shorts, but I've long felt that sand is the third most gentle on the scrotum skin of all the granulated shell and corral based forms of dirt-like substances that are not dirt. So I beach scrot out, other guys do it at the salt flats, it's a personal preference I guess.

Then we talked about curries. Daves against them, because he finds they make him think about how he's not racist, because he'd never call an Indian person a 'curry muncher' but then he realizes that realizing that required him to think it, and if you can think it doesn't it mean that it exists inside of you, hmm, doesn't it, hmmm, doesn't it, hmmmmmm. I'm for them because them stinkin' Indians have got to be worth something.

Then we got talking about how my racism is getting worse. I'm for it, I don't want to be liked by everyone, my ex liked me once and I do NOT want to go through THAT again. Dave's against it, he thinks it's simply ignorance and hate, although he is happy to automatically hate anyone with a nazi smurf tattooed on the third arm they've sourced by killing a toddler and holding a surgeon at gun point till its successfully attached in the place of their dicks, um, he AUTOMATICALLY hates them, doesn't get to know them at all, hypocritical much? 

Then we talked about how we got onto talking about curry and we remembered the salt flats and me talking about guys who prefer to go scrot out at the salt flats, salt being an ingredient occasionally used in curry. Daves for it, he thinks that if we can hurry up and eat all the salt then he'd see less naked guys on his frequent trips to the salt flats to scream at the salt for only being his third favorite shell and corral based dirt-like but not dirt substance to eat, after ground up car parts that someone has dyed and tricked him into believe is sherbet. I'm against it, I always see guys with toddler arms for dicks at the salt flats, I'd rather just eat bland food thankyou. 

Then we talked about how he didn't have time to do his daily blog today because he's busy damn it, BUSY and asked if I could do it? He's against it, because he prefers to ask favors and have them denied and instead develop deeply rooted grudges which he then extracts from his body and let grow and develop in a super heated aquarium he keeps in his log cabin in the middle of Tokyo, one of only 15 log cabins in ALL of Tokyo, and then once the grudges develop into morbid, disgusting, festering mould looking sick looking growths he uploads them to the Internet and sits back and watches what happens next with glee. I'm for it, because I'm jealous of the HUGE audience and acclaim he gets for his blogs. Get this, one time someone said 'nice blog', I fucking want that hard! 

So here I go. Ok, topic, topic. Um, I don't know where to start, how the hell does Dave come up with stuff to write about every day? I'm on my first one and I've got NOTHING to say, fuck. Oh shit. Why did I agree. I've got NOTHING! 

Well um, I don't like walking over drains? Could that be a thing. They make me think of dropping stuff down them. 

'Walking over drains - no thanks, I like my keys, wallet, phone, ear lobe I found and keep meaning to hand in to the ear lobe department of the cops one day, and keys being in my POCKET, not in the drain thanks!'

Alright. That's it done. Phew. Wow, doing a Dave quality blog is easier than I thought. Now time to sit back and wait for the praise. 

By the way I bet Daves FOR walking over drains. That fucker never agrees with me on ANYTHING. I don't even know why we're friends. You know what, I'm going to set him up with my ex-wife, I hate her, it'll be a match made in heaven! 

Shandy would've been more believable - A poem

'No, I'm not lying, the cockroach DID talk to me, I swear it on my daughters life!' Bellowed Taylor. 

She'd dug herself a hole. 

An innocent lie about where she'd been for the past hour had spiraled out of control and she had no idea how to reel it in. 

It was only after she claimed that the engagement ring the roach had given her had been stolen by a sneaky liquid metal glass of port that she thought 'maybe I should just admit I was masturbating in the disabled toilet'. 

Having a super attractive boss had NOT turned out to be the joy she'd imagined. 

Of course it was her daughter who suffered in the end. 

Considerably Fortuitous - A Poem

Adam sat and pondered...

He thought. 

He deliberated.

And then he went right back to pondering.

The topic - just where would the music industry be if fate hadn't intervened all those years ago... before music had even been invented.. And fortuitously conjured up the reality that the word 'love' rhymes with the word 'shove'. 

After six hours he finally reached an answer -

'Bout the fucking same' he said out-loud.

Then the lady on the bus sitting next to him got up and changed seat. 

Adam now moved onto his next topic of ponderation - wasn't this bus ride supposed to only be ten minutes? 

'This one threatens to be a doozy' he thought 'it may possibly even require a level of thought rare for me - consideration, perhaps even musing'

Then he realized...

'Oh shit' he thought 'that in itself is another thing to ponder, this is going to be a LONG bus ride'. 

Pattern

There's a pattern 

There's a streamline 

There's a lateness

There's a half life 

Like a bookshelf without a book making it a fucking liar 

Untrustworthy

And if you can't trust a bookshelf

What can you trust?

A coffee table?

Nope

I once saw a magazine on one of those 

That's NOT a coffee. 

A better tomorrow

Duncan was looking into the bottle. He wanted to see something in there. He wasn’t sure WHAT he wanted to see. Although he was sure of a few things that he did NOT want to see in there:

-       A fully operational miniature zebra wrestling zoo, where the zebras wrestle, just to be clear, if the zebras were just to distract people from the horrifically brutal miniature springbok wrestling matches in the background that would be fine.

-       A contaminated edition of the daily news that held the singular story that held the solution to the contamination problem sweeping the town of Daily, the town named after it’s local paper, and named on a day when no one knew that ‘daily’ merely meant the frequency of the paper’s issue.

-       Creepy looking cornhusks hell bent on revenge against husky dogs for being the most badass things named after husks, with plans on trying to recruit husky young men to their cause, but not sure how to do it, because it’s not nice to go up to someone and say ‘hey you look husky, wanna join my husky campaign’ especially when as a corn, it’s your cousin ‘high fructose corn syrup’ that’s caused half that huskiness.

-       Beer.

He also knew why he didn’t want these things to be in the bottle.

-       Cause zebras have weak legs for an animal in their animal category, so the wrestling matches wouldn’t be brutal enough.

-       Because how did the town have a paper before it had a town name? That’s backwards fella.

-       Because he was husky, and he had a pet Husky dog, and he did not want to get in-between it and his best friend, a creepy looking cornhusk.

-       Because if he was holding a beer, then it probably meant he had just drank his science experiment, and his boss down at the ‘Society of Experiments For A Better Tomorrow’ would NOT be happy that he drank his last six years of work.

Ten minutes later Duncan had a brainwave – it was right as his best friend the cornhusk began to beat him in his ‘fat tummy’, and the miniature springbok kicked him in his chin so hard that he spat contamination all over his newly opened beer – ‘I should have thought more about what I WANTED to see in that bottle, and LESS about what I did NOT want to see in that bottle!’ he thought.

And that is why we do not currently have a better tomorrow. Although I have heard good things about two week’s from Sunday.

RIP The 121 days of fit challenge

RIP The 121 days of fit challenge 

The 121 days of fit challenge died a sad and sudden death last night. 

 

It came down ill at about 930pm when it became clear that on this two and a half day train ride that I'm currently on from San Francisco to Chicago there will be no breaks off the train long enough to get a decent walk in, that there is no space to do any burpies or jumping jacks, and that the conductor didn't believe that my pacing for thirty minutes up and down my carriage was 'for exercise' or else why did he keep asking me if 'I'm sure I'm alright?'

Some awkward push-ups with half an elbow in and half out of a doorway didn't feel sufficient, the Nevada desert didn't provide any phone service to post an exercise achievement anyway, and the 121 day fit challenge just stopped fighting for life. In the end I think the the sleeping tablets I'd taken and the rocking of the train at least let it go peacefully in its sleep. 

While it lived merely a short 139 days, that was quite a decent life length for a 121 day challenge. And over that life there were definitely some highlights and some lowlights, these included:

High - People thinking that my gym videos looked like I was masturbating angrily and sweatily at the camera numerous times a week, which creeped out hundreds if not thousands of people, but possibly led to some enjoyment to some sick silent soul out there.

Low - People thinking that my gym videos looked like I was masturbating angrily and sweatily at the camera numerous times a week, which creeped out hundreds if not thousands of people, but possibly led to some enjoyment to some sick silent soul out there. 

High - Sticking it right up the skinny attractive face of my truly good friend Nick Day who received tonnes of praise for how good he looked in his 'after' photo at the conclusion of his personal 120 days of fit, where as I got ZERO praise for his 'after' photo, despite being the very person who took the photo he was being praised for, leading to me spitefully declaring 'ah yeah, well I'll do a 121 day challenge out of spite and really stick it up your ass, and take ALL the compliments for me, for MEEEEEEEE, woo ha ha'. 

Low - Ending the journey on a journey in the US, where despite an enormous amount of walking I have been stuffing my face with fattening food, haven't showered, and am bloated, greasy, dirty and pimply, so I can't produce a satisfactory 'after' photo right now. 

High - Finding myself on dozens of long walks, to all sorts of corners of my city I'd never bothered before to explore and finding lots and lots of beauty in places I never thought I would. 

Low - Finding out that Sydney has a significant rat problem late at night, and one time walking through a spiderweb so big that I'll be finding parts of it, and it's hatching spider eggs, on my body for years.

High - Discovering that these walks were enhanced greatly by taking photos and seeking great photo opportunities, simultaneously re-ignighting both my travel bugs and photo taking bugs.

Low - Which have really thrown my artistic career plans in the loop, made me very unhappy to stay still anywhere, and led me to being pimply on a train. 

High - Unleashing the awesome power of spite. I mean that wasn't just any photo I took of Nick, I got the light right, on my balcony at magic hour sunset light. I asked him an enticing question to unveil a fascinating facial expression, 'how's it feel to know that now as a skinnier more attractive man you're now more likely to get laid more and therefore more likely to get Aids more?'I handed his iphone back to him. It was a multistep process, how do people not praise the goddamn photographer? 

High - Achieving a significantly better body. Well slightly better. I think. 

Low - Being reminded I'm the kind of guy who will NEVER be satisfied with, happy with, content with, or in any way like my body. 

Yes, the 121 days of fit challenge has been a wonderful presence in my life. It's been a challenge, it's been fit, it's been a length describable in days, so it fit all its intended criteria. It's given me some purpose, and a daily sense of achievement, made my bathroom stink of stale sweat, led me to skip many chances at making connections with other human beings to instead spend hours in my stairwell, made it so I've listened to every episode of every podcast ever made, at least a dozen times let me hear some form of this sentence 'I don't care about your fucking challenge, I'm not fucking walking there you fuck', got me at least four people saying 'you look like you've lost weight', and ninety times made me think 'I wish it was girls who praised my looks occasionally, instead of elderly family members who got my name wrong'. 

And now it's dead. It died a success, and an inspiration (I know of at least one guy who decided to take on the same challenge and lasted nearly forty-eight hours!), and it shall now leave a hole in my life, even though it pretty much won't change anything about my life, because I don't want to eat well or be too fat, so lots of exercise is must. 

Long walks will continue, new adventures shall be sought (anyone got any suggestions?) but the #121daysoffit hashtag will no longer be with me, as per it's last will and testament it shall:

- Be cremated and have its ashes spread all over Nick Day's stupid compliment earning 'after' photo that was such a great achievement for him. 

- It's belongings will be fought over in a court of law by its surviving heirs, INCLUDING Phil, the child it so long denied to be its, given that he was conceived during a one night stand on a trip it took to Phoenix. 

- A fifteen gun salute shall be shot in its honor, 'but please not aimed at the sky, that's where heaven is you dicks, don't shoot heaven!' 

- The official eulogy shall be delivered by 'Barbra Streisand, or any other big nosed singer, but NOT, I repeat NOT, sung, I like those big nose nasal speaking tones'. 

- If an international holiday is named in its honor 'please don't make it in June, the middle months suck, and I never remember which goes first, June or July, or is it May? Oooh ooh, but DO enforce a silly costume! I know, make all those idiots wear half eaten burritos on their heads! That'll be hilarious!' 

- And most of all it would like to be remembered for its scent 'no one ever gets remembered for its scent, plus it would be a good excuse for Dave to never clean his bathroom'.

Thanks #121daysoffit. I'll miss you. 

Ps. And remember folks, next time you ask yourself 'did Dave just post a picture of himself jacking off?' the answer will still remain - maybe. 

On Compliments

'I'm telling you Margery, I'm not going to the beach house again' I said to Margery, an empty chair.

Margery always wants to go there, but I hate it, she knows I'm allergic to fun near large bodies of water. 

But I didn't feel like having an argument with her again so I instead complimented her face. Which is something females appreciate.

'Good face' you'll say.

'Thanks, I appreciate that' they'll respond. 

This isn't your only option to achieve appreciation of course. You can also attempt the following: 

- 'Good head'. For this one make sure you point at her head to avoid misunderstandings. I don't think I need to tell you how THAT could be misconstrued, but just because something isn't needed doesn't mean it's not provided - she may think you mean the head of a beer, and if she hasn't just poured you one you'll be in TROUBLE! She may even say things like 'stop your sarcasm, or else I may just stop sucking your dick and pour you a beer'. And that's dangerous for her to say with a dick in her mouth. 

- 'Good general collection of nose, mouth, eyes and related features'. For this one make sure you you add 'like eye brows and such' or else they may think you're complimenting their skin, um sorry, if I'm going to compliment your skin I'll say 'holy christ you are CRAP at growing zits, what a fucking loser'. 

- 'Good non-head parts, they go good with your head'. This one's a trick, because it only compliments their head once they realize that 'good' non-head parts only compliment a 'good' head, that's what compliments mean. That's why that song 'bad to the bone' added 'ba ba ba ba ba bad' after referencing the parts to the bone being bad, because 'that means bad head and bad non-head parts implied', was a line that was already implied by the early description. It was a bold move by the writer too, because 'that mean bad head, and bad non-head parts implied' would have been WAY catchier, but they chose integrity, and the public responded with praise. 

- 'You're freakin' dumb'. This ones obvious, good heads hold dumb brains, that's just fact. 

'Thanks, I appreciate that' they'll respond, if you say any of those. 

Of course Margery didn't respond 'thanks, I appreciate that' as she has no face, I'd forgotten. She's an empty chair. Margery instead responded 'screw you, now you are definitely taking me to the beach house'.

So here I am again at the beach house, facing my allergic reaction to having fun near a large body of water, normally it manifests itself in a mild rash, itchy eyes and hallucinations that can have me talking to inanimate objects, but I'm not TOO worried, I've asked Margery to poke me if I start doing anything weird, but I know I will do something, you don't choose you're allergies. 

'Then why did you buy a beach house, you must be stupid!' I hear you saying.

Thanks, I appreciate that. 

When seven is two too few - a poem

When seven is two too few - a poem 

Sometimes I think I could finally find fulfillment and contentment from life if I could just think of two more reasons to be thankful for cows.

This has been an example of a time when seven is two too few

The end. 

And now, as asked, nay DEMANDED, by all who read the above poem, here are seven reasons to be thankful for cows

1. Dairy products. Diary products are delicious and nutritious, and you can't enjoy a nice salad with bacon bits and goat cheese without first thanking the cow for his farm friends  the goats and the bacons.

2. Beef. You got beef with your neighbor? That's because he had the volume WAY to loud on this meat smoker.

3. Leather. Who amongst us doesn't occasionally put on a leather jumpsuit and drop a couple of squirrels down the neck hole for fun?

4. The colors black and white, first invented by the side of cows (At least this is what I've been arguing for years, fuck the current 'official' first. I'm adamant that the time a white horse fell down a well merely invented white and very, very, very blackish looking purple!) 

5. Buckets of cow piss. Buckets are great receptacles to get rid of your cow piss. 

6. Moo. An awesome word for bullies to cruelly taunt the overweight kids at school, ultimately leading them to murder those bullies, leaving us inbetweeners all the time in the world to yell 'koo-koo' at people who forgot to climb the local tall dude.

7. Lists. First invented to list reasons to be thankful for cows. 

Comeback attack

'You're possum brained' she said to me

'No I'm not' I replied, with a smile on my face due to the witty and accurate comeback I'd conjured. 

It hadn't been the first comeback I'd thought of 'if I'm so possum brained then how come I fell out the tree tonight and broke my arm?' Was my first instinct.

'And since when do possums eat six T-bone steaks, breaking the restaurant's record, then get the meat sweats and decide it's a good idea to climb a tree to try and puke on a statue of the guy who discovered the local ravine?' I knew I'd need to add. So I brushed it. Too wordy. And words are bite killers. I knew I needed bite in this comeback. Lots of bite.

'I'll fucking bite your face off' I next considered. I nearly said it too. But then it occurred to me, I bet possums bite people's faces off from time to time. Which would be badass 'how'd you lose your face?'

'Got bit off by a possum!'

'That's badass'

Would be how that went down. 

Yep definitely badass.

But then it occurred to me I was trying to make it seem like I wasn't possum brained, and a come back that did nothing but reflect possum brained activities would possibly undermine that.

'You suck' I considered briefly. But then I thought 'nah, save that one for later. Wait, maybe some time that she's drinking from a straw, hell yeah, that would kick major badassity AND hilarity'. So I saved it. You never know when you'll need a badass and hilarious line when someone you know is drinking from a straw. But you do know that it WILL happen one day. Planning is good sometimes. That's a lesson for all of you. Ever got lost chasing after your own shadow? Of course you have, we all have, that sucker is so damn hard to catch. But you wouldn't have if you'd 'planned' to go out at night during a citywide blackout on a very cloudy night that day instead. That's a tick for planning for damn sure.

'No I'm not' was my next thought. And I didn't even need to think about this one. Witty - tick. Biting - tick. Makes you think of possums biting off people's faces - no tick. 

It was a no brainer. And no brainers are my bread and what's it, that yellow stuff.

'Nice come back' she snapped back. 

Yep, I'd won this one. Turned out to be a pretty great honeymoon after all. 

Bathed in them!

I went to the slap shop today. 

No not that one. 

YES that one! 

And no NOT that one.

I already said the second one was right, why'd you keep guessing? 

That's weird dude. 

Yeah, sorry, you're not ready for stories about slap shops.

Slap shop stories are only for people who stop guessing things once they have already found their answer.

And it's a shame because this slap shop story is a doozy, which is 80s sitcom talk for 'really fucking badass'.

But your over guessing is going to cut you out sorry.

That's just the rule.

And I don't make them.

Not anymore at least.

I retired from the slap store story governing body six whole weeks ago.

Although obviously this particularly rule we're discussing came in under my stewardship.

But not specifically to fuck up your life. 

It hasn't always been this way of course.

Who could forget the wonderful case of Johnson, Cliche Name, Johnson. He BATHED in slap store stories, and he once guessed that the Duck Billed Platypus would one day also grow a goose bill, even after his previous guess, 'Duck Bill Platypus will one day grow a hat that is comfortable but probably not good at keeping the sun from his neck' was declared 'yeah, probably'. A guessing on that bothered a LOT of people. I mean they're just called 'Platypus', the duck bill is a guarantee, it doesn't need to be specified, there ARE no duck bill-less platypus. 

But he guessed on and so did you. And here we are.

Which is a shame because I like you. 

I really like you.

And this slap shop story is great. 

Really great. 

I'm guessing you're pissed off now. 

Yes?

Exactly.

I'm guessing that your smiling now.

See what I did there.

I guessed on.

Now you feel the pain.

Well I think we all learned some things today:

- If you're named Johnson people hate you.

- If you're a platypus with a duck bill AND a goose bill, lift that hat up, we want to see.

- I like you.

- Awww.

Flop Heavy

Bill bought a blue shirt.

That stupid damn, dinglefaced, scar smelling, gargantuanlly biscuit minded, suitcase with no wheels even though it's very very heavy, tree that grows coconuts but doesn't grow coconut opening knives or machetes, tile stained with flop sweated, jalapeño flavored hair cut, tumble weed inspired phlegm fighting, yes man even when no is the clear answer due to logistical, beurocratic and unfashionable yet constitunally reprehensible in a no good way, fat wallet with seeds for no longer popular plants, simple eyed, fenced from leg warming long socks on a cold, breezy and heavy locust swarming swimming hole imagination vacationed, monkey titted but male titties, vacuous, poor at judging and planning in regards to likely weather conditions likely to be faced, like a teddy bear with one foot slightly smaller than the other but not in a cute way, using a moisturizer not ideally suited to his particular skin type, dumb, stupid, idiot, moronic, dumb, idiotic stupid dumb moron! 

Oh wait, no, sorry, it was Belle who's viciously deathly allergic to the color blue, never mind.

Fuck, I should probably should uninvite her to my pool party this weekend, I heard there's going to be sky.