It's not childish if you're a big stinky bum bum.
Other potential captions included:
"Pull my ethernet cable!"
"Wireless? I wish I was Noseless!"
and the distant runner-up:
"Hey buddy! Your modem stinks!"
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
What? This old thing?
'Excuse me! Excuse me!' called the woman, tapping Mele on the shoulder as we returned from the museum. 'Where did you get your coat?'
Mele told her.
'It's wonderful!' cried the lady. 'I love it!'
That lady had good taste.
Mele told her.
'It's wonderful!' cried the lady. 'I love it!'
That lady had good taste.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
I should have thrown in some fly trombones
I know we all enjoyed my attempts to hang onto the fickel caretaker audience at work But I have literally been working in the dark and carrying my own boxes since then because I was suffering from the well-documented 'Difficult 3rd Album' version of email.
I may have gone overboard on the solution:
To: Caretakers at work
From: franzy
*please play this youtube video while reading this email*
I got to work this morning
It was real foggy on tha hill
I went into [redacted] Level 1
And I started workin’, ‘til
I noticed something dark
Real dark in room 113
The fluoro tube above the sink
Wasn’t shinin’ no light on me
Wasn’t shinin’ no light
No suh, not shinin’ no light
I’m askin’ please come fix it
It’s not real urgent, but it’s quick to do
But until then I guess I’ll have
The broken fluoro blues
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Then there's this guy
He said he was talking it home for dinner.
I believe him.I believe everything the Rain God says.
Then there's my insatiable bloodlust, but that's not really unusual
Allow me to me sum up the last 24 hours in such a way that anyone who's into using the full moon as a catch all explanation for weirdness can instantly climb aboard:
Last night, at about 9:45pm, my studious studying was interrupted by an extremely loud alarm. It wasn't a car, it wasn't a house, but it was coming from somewhere. So, I did what any suburbanite does when they hear an unusual warning signal: I ignored it.
Until the pre-recorded voice began chanting "Emergency. Evacuate immediately. Emergency. Evacuate immediately." and so on. My first guess was 'exploding petrol stadium', but the confused lady at Sturt Police Station told me that it was probably Hindmarch Stadium and there was nothing to worry about, dear.
Cut to: this morning. Everything is going well. I've even got mostly matching socks. We execute the logistical ballet of dropping Charlie and my car off to their various care centres with Olympic finesse. Mel and I are on the work run when wwwwooooOOOOOAAAAAHHHH!!! BRRRAAAKEESSSSS!!! The car in front pulls up very short in the queue and Mel is quick on the anchors, saving our arses by mere feet. We start to congratulate one-another on such a-BAM.
We get rear-ended.
The lady behind us wasn't so spritely on the middle pedal and it's another morning bingle.
We are really shaken this time.
But before we even get a chance to get out of the car, my phone rings.
It's Mel's old school chum, inviting me to appear on a reality TV show as her 'close male friend'.
'Sure thing,' I say, even though I disapprove of reality TV. 'I've just been hit by a car, I've got to go.'
It's only as I'm typing this that I'm beginning to understand what I actually signed up for.
Coming this summer on 10, I suppose...
Also, we were in the local media, not once but twice this week. I might even reconsider going outside in future, just to avoid this sort of thing.
Last night, at about 9:45pm, my studious studying was interrupted by an extremely loud alarm. It wasn't a car, it wasn't a house, but it was coming from somewhere. So, I did what any suburbanite does when they hear an unusual warning signal: I ignored it.
Until the pre-recorded voice began chanting "Emergency. Evacuate immediately. Emergency. Evacuate immediately." and so on. My first guess was 'exploding petrol stadium', but the confused lady at Sturt Police Station told me that it was probably Hindmarch Stadium and there was nothing to worry about, dear.
Cut to: this morning. Everything is going well. I've even got mostly matching socks. We execute the logistical ballet of dropping Charlie and my car off to their various care centres with Olympic finesse. Mel and I are on the work run when wwwwooooOOOOOAAAAAHHHH!!! BRRRAAAKEESSSSS!!! The car in front pulls up very short in the queue and Mel is quick on the anchors, saving our arses by mere feet. We start to congratulate one-another on such a-BAM.
We get rear-ended.
The lady behind us wasn't so spritely on the middle pedal and it's another morning bingle.
We are really shaken this time.
But before we even get a chance to get out of the car, my phone rings.
It's Mel's old school chum, inviting me to appear on a reality TV show as her 'close male friend'.
'Sure thing,' I say, even though I disapprove of reality TV. 'I've just been hit by a car, I've got to go.'
It's only as I'm typing this that I'm beginning to understand what I actually signed up for.
Coming this summer on 10, I suppose...
Also, we were in the local media, not once but twice this week. I might even reconsider going outside in future, just to avoid this sort of thing.
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
