With cancer, it's like we're all standing in a hallway while a madman fires a gun in our direction. You can't see the bullets whipping past, but they're hitting our friends, our family, acquiantences, workmates. You can't stand in front of people you want to protect, you just have to watch them get hit and hope they come out okay afterwards. Or at least alive.
Don't worry, everyone's okay. Just a few nasty surprises in the post-Xmas work emails. Go hug your loved ones.
***
Franzy's Ongoing Advice for the Ill-advised - Got a new squeeze, but you're not too keen? Don't know how to ease them down gently, especially over the sensitive holiday period? So much so that you don't even want them around for a New Year's Eve Smooch?
You can only pull this off once a year, but the solution to your problems is a quick text after midnight that reads simply: "New Year."
They will get the sad little picture.
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
If it makes you feel icky, it worked.
I should start up my own one-man advertising company. I will not stop at distasteful slogans, no!
Behold the Active Bodies Physiotherapy television advertising campaign!
Behold the Active Bodies Physiotherapy television advertising campaign!
Do my work for me!
A very dear friend of mine runs a physiotherapy practice and, as I ply him for free physio, he has returned the compliment and asked me for advice concerning a catchy slogan for some advertising. And when he says "advice" I assume he means "finished products", just as when I take another sip of beer and casually begin a conversation regarding any kind physiological problem I may or may not be experiencing, I actually just want a really good back rub.
So, not wanting to put my bush under light (or however that saying goes) I will be airing out my best ideas here and asking you, my five loyal readers to tell me (and him) which one is the best:
***
GTH - Adam Y again with the eyebrowing-raising cultural reference. Me like. River gets an encouragement point because I get the feeling she is refusing to have a guess any more just in case someone gets jealous of her massive and formidable score. The photo is, in fact, the tourist information centre in the Redwood forests of Yosemite National Park.
So, not wanting to put my bush under light (or however that saying goes) I will be airing out my best ideas here and asking you, my five loyal readers to tell me (and him) which one is the best:
- Don't get punched by any old donkey. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. We knead your meat.
- For easy movement, Active Bodies Physiotherapy. Like nine litres of prune juice.
- To crack back into the pack or just crack your back, back a cracker back-cracker. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- If it ain't broke ... get it checked up anyway at Active Bodies Physiotherapy. (If it is broke, get a referral from the emergency department).
- Back straight! Shoulders back! Good girl. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Can't touch your toes? Active Bodies Physiotherapy. Or a lucky parole hearing.
- 10 reps. 4 sets. 3 muscle groups. 5 machines. Active Bodies Physiotherapy doesn't lose count.
- Lucky shirt, lucky protein, lucky bottle, lucky routine. Active Bodies Physiotherapy: the sensible alternative to poetry-based health and fitness.
- Are you still whinging about your shoulder? Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Sore wrist, eh? Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. We won't laugh.
- You look tense. Have a seat. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. We'll squeeze that little knot until it hurts like hell.
- You bring your body, we'll bring the instructions. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. I had no idea it was that stiff.
- No magnets. No mirrors. Some rubbing. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. Because it shouldn't hurt like that.
- Get the movement you need. Without the fibre. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. We're not just for wussy footballers.
- Get it popped right back in. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. We can be very manipulative.
- Active Bodies Physiotherapy. This won't hurt a bit.
- Your movement is our message. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
- Get a good rub and tug. Active Bodies Physiotherapy.
***
GTH - Adam Y again with the eyebrowing-raising cultural reference. Me like. River gets an encouragement point because I get the feeling she is refusing to have a guess any more just in case someone gets jealous of her massive and formidable score. The photo is, in fact, the tourist information centre in the Redwood forests of Yosemite National Park.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
The Dos and Don'ts of Applying for a SAYAB Project and Development Grant
After reading a bunch of applications for Project and Development funding for SAYAB, I've had a good hard think about some tips I'd love to give to the burgeoning young artists of SA. Here are the top twelve that didn't involve the fun of naming and shaming.
1. If you're going to put something on the internet, DON'T then hint that this will lend your work "international exposure and a potential audience of millions!". We know how the internet works, we're not that bloody old. Think about how you're going to get people to experience your art if you're not primarily an internet-based artist.
2. DO read the instructions on the application form. Read them. Read. Them. All the way through. Then follow those instructions. I know great art is about breaking rules, but when you reach the part that says "SAYAB will not pay for 100% of your costs", don't break that one. You will become sad.
3. DO raise money elsewhere. Ask local businesses, have a sausage sizzle, beg your parents, beg your mates' parents, sell stuff on eBay, participate in medical experiments, ask everyone you're paying for your project for a discount - they can only say no! (Or, in the case of your parents, kick you out for playing your sitar non-stop all day instead of going out and getting on with life!!). That way, instead of saying "Expenditure on Sound Engineer - $500" you can say "Expenditure on Sound Engineer - $500, Income from Sound Engineer - $250 Yay! She's doing it half price!"
4. We have about $50,000 to share among 40 or 50 applicants. Like you, many of these applicants are also talented, hard-working and deserving young artists. DON'T ask for twenty Gs. Or even ten. We're about broadening South Australia's artistic talent base and we could fund two projects which are just as awesome as yours for five grand a piece. Or four for two-five each.
5. DO send in a sample of your work. DON'T send in all of it. An entire script won't get read. Just pick the bestest most totally rad part that made your girlfriend cry and send that bit in.
6. If you're screaming with delight about some awesome piece of kit you've sourced to make your movie/album/stage production/performance art explosion, DO explain it to us as you would your bored mother. Remember to justify why you need it for this particular project. Sending in a photocopy of the entire instruction manual doesn't count.
7. DO check your spelling. Or if you really are too lazy to do a spell check, at least read the things you've written in your application out aloud to check that it all makes sense. However, if you are submitting an application for a writing project, then unfortunately, your spelling will be held to a higher standard. Sorry about that, it just will.
8. The application isn't an exam paper. DO ask for help. There is someone at Carclew who is paid money to help you fill out your application. She is just sitting there, waiting for your call. Call her. Call her now. You can sit down together and she will hold your hand and tell you gently that your idea for a concept album/live sculpture tour of Eastern Europe is a trifle ambitious for someone whose major talent lays in stick figure art.
9. DO talk up your art. DON'T imply that SAYAB has no choice other than to fund your cutting edge exhibition of Clag and walnuts if it wants to remain current in the eyes of all who are hip and with it in the South Australian arts community. We're hip. We're with it. Dukka dukka dukka dukka dukka dukka.
10. DON'T overreach. Big ideas are wonderful, but a series of concerts starring your two-week-old band and its four songs, all of which are available on Myspace, isn't going to get funded. Ask for cash for a mentor instead.
11. DO balance your budget. If your Income doesn't match your Expenditure, you're either stupid or crooked, depending on whether you're losing money or making it.
12. DON'T ask for money just so that you can make it. We're not going to fund a production run of your art so you can flog it off and trouser the profits. And besides, if that really worked, don't you think we would have done it already?
***
If you look down the bottom of this blog, you will find my little Statcounter and you will also find that I have recently surpassed 50,000 hits! In honour of this ... um ... honour, I shall post some of the more 'interesting' keyword searches whereby people have landed on this page.
For instance:
* 'pulteney grammar, sex change' proves whatever rude point I may have been seeking to make about private schools and/or school reunions.
* 'dirtiest joke in the world in writing' may be talking up my credentials or my unwillingness to put The Sushi Joke to screen.
* 'legal tombolla methods' is a search that actually comes up more often than you would think.
* But, for true internet horror 'girls first time how to not make it hurt' is something that ... um ... I ... welllllll ... let's just move on and call it a night.
***
GTH - Murphy and 327 take away the honours for most accurate guess and most chuckleworthy comment.
1. If you're going to put something on the internet, DON'T then hint that this will lend your work "international exposure and a potential audience of millions!". We know how the internet works, we're not that bloody old. Think about how you're going to get people to experience your art if you're not primarily an internet-based artist.
2. DO read the instructions on the application form. Read them. Read. Them. All the way through. Then follow those instructions. I know great art is about breaking rules, but when you reach the part that says "SAYAB will not pay for 100% of your costs", don't break that one. You will become sad.
3. DO raise money elsewhere. Ask local businesses, have a sausage sizzle, beg your parents, beg your mates' parents, sell stuff on eBay, participate in medical experiments, ask everyone you're paying for your project for a discount - they can only say no! (Or, in the case of your parents, kick you out for playing your sitar non-stop all day instead of going out and getting on with life!!). That way, instead of saying "Expenditure on Sound Engineer - $500" you can say "Expenditure on Sound Engineer - $500, Income from Sound Engineer - $250 Yay! She's doing it half price!"
4. We have about $50,000 to share among 40 or 50 applicants. Like you, many of these applicants are also talented, hard-working and deserving young artists. DON'T ask for twenty Gs. Or even ten. We're about broadening South Australia's artistic talent base and we could fund two projects which are just as awesome as yours for five grand a piece. Or four for two-five each.
5. DO send in a sample of your work. DON'T send in all of it. An entire script won't get read. Just pick the bestest most totally rad part that made your girlfriend cry and send that bit in.
6. If you're screaming with delight about some awesome piece of kit you've sourced to make your movie/album/stage production/performance art explosion, DO explain it to us as you would your bored mother. Remember to justify why you need it for this particular project. Sending in a photocopy of the entire instruction manual doesn't count.
7. DO check your spelling. Or if you really are too lazy to do a spell check, at least read the things you've written in your application out aloud to check that it all makes sense. However, if you are submitting an application for a writing project, then unfortunately, your spelling will be held to a higher standard. Sorry about that, it just will.
8. The application isn't an exam paper. DO ask for help. There is someone at Carclew who is paid money to help you fill out your application. She is just sitting there, waiting for your call. Call her. Call her now. You can sit down together and she will hold your hand and tell you gently that your idea for a concept album/live sculpture tour of Eastern Europe is a trifle ambitious for someone whose major talent lays in stick figure art.
9. DO talk up your art. DON'T imply that SAYAB has no choice other than to fund your cutting edge exhibition of Clag and walnuts if it wants to remain current in the eyes of all who are hip and with it in the South Australian arts community. We're hip. We're with it. Dukka dukka dukka dukka dukka dukka.
10. DON'T overreach. Big ideas are wonderful, but a series of concerts starring your two-week-old band and its four songs, all of which are available on Myspace, isn't going to get funded. Ask for cash for a mentor instead.
11. DO balance your budget. If your Income doesn't match your Expenditure, you're either stupid or crooked, depending on whether you're losing money or making it.
12. DON'T ask for money just so that you can make it. We're not going to fund a production run of your art so you can flog it off and trouser the profits. And besides, if that really worked, don't you think we would have done it already?
***
If you look down the bottom of this blog, you will find my little Statcounter and you will also find that I have recently surpassed 50,000 hits! In honour of this ... um ... honour, I shall post some of the more 'interesting' keyword searches whereby people have landed on this page.
For instance:
* 'pulteney grammar, sex change' proves whatever rude point I may have been seeking to make about private schools and/or school reunions.
* 'dirtiest joke in the world in writing' may be talking up my credentials or my unwillingness to put The Sushi Joke to screen.
* 'legal tombolla methods' is a search that actually comes up more often than you would think.
* But, for true internet horror 'girls first time how to not make it hurt' is something that ... um ... I ... welllllll ... let's just move on and call it a night.
***
GTH - Murphy and 327 take away the honours for most accurate guess and most chuckleworthy comment.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Franzy's Continuing Advice for The Ill-Advised
In my previous attempts at advice for dudes about women I've covered sucking up and buttering up. Now we're going for the kill; via an old, tedious joke that tends to appear on quaint fridge magnets given to women by other, more jaded women as a hopefully-ironic gag. But we're going to twist it and turn it to your advantage.
It starts when you sink into his arms and ends with your arms in his sink.
Ho ho. I know. I know. I know. Huh! Honestly! Men. Can't live with them, can't shoot 'em! Ho ho ho! Oh, I know.
So - had enough matronising yet? Well let me demonstrate what you're going to do. Forget the phrase's Sybilic overtones and instead make this your lady-wooing maxim:
It starts with your arms in her sink and ends ... ahem, well, you get the picture. Seriously though - this is Franzy's Piece of Wisdom About Women #3: Do the washing up. Do it quickly and don't smash anything. Brush aside all offers of help. Just stack up the plates, chuck them in the sink with hot water and soap, swoosh swoosh with the water, stack them on the rack and you will be Captain Dynamite.
Reason? Chicks always do all the cleaning. We're talking averages here, mind you. By and large, it's always the girls doing the wiping, spraying, scrubbing and sucking (of dust) while the dudes get all the fun jobs like Chopping Up The Firewood, Replacing The Light Globes and Moving The Furniture. If you suddenly jump up start being all manly and efficient with the dishes, trust me, your lady-friend's estimations of you will rise like the hundreds of thank-you cakes she will bake you* in the future.
And if you're living with a girl, or at least letting one use your dunny, then clean it. Every day. Even if you can't actually see the shitstains, she can. And if you clean it, she shall whisper to her girlfriends: 'And he even cleans the toilet! Every day!'
'Gasp!' they will all gasp. 'He noticed your hair, cooked you that gourmet pasta, did the dishes and cleaned the toilet?!?'
'Yes!'
'Then we shall pillow fight for this Man of Men! Game on, Moll!'
And there, the fantasy ends.
* Metaphor.
***
Oh, here's something fun you can all try at home:
1. Go for a jog (about half an hour should do it).
2. Drink a glass of water afterwards. Just one though, or it'll spoil the fun!
3. Drink a beer.
4. Order a large pizza.
5. Eat lots and lots of it while lounging on the couch.
6. Drink two glasses of red wine with your pizza.
7. Don't get up!
8. Watch a show about a bunch of army dudes doing a survival course in the Northern Territory in which they spend the whole time talking and thinking about water and how the fuck they're going to get a hold of it using only a fire (which they have to make themselves), a jerry can, a tube, a plastic bag and a river full of salt-water crocodiles.
9. Go to bed in a cool room with a runny nose so that you have to mouth-breathe in your sleep.
Dehydration? You bet! Even though I got up and drank the water jug dry at about 3 a.m. You know how you get up in the morning and have a piss? And if you're dehydrated it's kind of ... pungent? Well I was pretty much pushing out pencil leads on the lemon tree this morning. I had so little moisture to give I was actually extruding graphite. Ouch.
***
GTH - I'm awarding the point to myninjacockle for the Tommy Buttfucker story. The header was a photo I took in Derry in 1999 during the Orange Marches where the teeny tiny little Protestant population march up and down the wall of the largely-Catholic fortified old town in celebration of how wonderful their religion is. The cops have to turn up and basically barricade the whole show to stop the two religions meeting up and smashing the shit out of each other. Thus does the connection with my dad's t-shirt occur.
It starts when you sink into his arms and ends with your arms in his sink.
Ho ho. I know. I know. I know. Huh! Honestly! Men. Can't live with them, can't shoot 'em! Ho ho ho! Oh, I know.
So - had enough matronising yet? Well let me demonstrate what you're going to do. Forget the phrase's Sybilic overtones and instead make this your lady-wooing maxim:
It starts with your arms in her sink and ends ... ahem, well, you get the picture. Seriously though - this is Franzy's Piece of Wisdom About Women #3: Do the washing up. Do it quickly and don't smash anything. Brush aside all offers of help. Just stack up the plates, chuck them in the sink with hot water and soap, swoosh swoosh with the water, stack them on the rack and you will be Captain Dynamite.
Reason? Chicks always do all the cleaning. We're talking averages here, mind you. By and large, it's always the girls doing the wiping, spraying, scrubbing and sucking (of dust) while the dudes get all the fun jobs like Chopping Up The Firewood, Replacing The Light Globes and Moving The Furniture. If you suddenly jump up start being all manly and efficient with the dishes, trust me, your lady-friend's estimations of you will rise like the hundreds of thank-you cakes she will bake you* in the future.
And if you're living with a girl, or at least letting one use your dunny, then clean it. Every day. Even if you can't actually see the shitstains, she can. And if you clean it, she shall whisper to her girlfriends: 'And he even cleans the toilet! Every day!'
'Gasp!' they will all gasp. 'He noticed your hair, cooked you that gourmet pasta, did the dishes and cleaned the toilet?!?'
'Yes!'
'Then we shall pillow fight for this Man of Men! Game on, Moll!'
And there, the fantasy ends.
* Metaphor.
***
Oh, here's something fun you can all try at home:
1. Go for a jog (about half an hour should do it).
2. Drink a glass of water afterwards. Just one though, or it'll spoil the fun!
3. Drink a beer.
4. Order a large pizza.
5. Eat lots and lots of it while lounging on the couch.
6. Drink two glasses of red wine with your pizza.
7. Don't get up!
8. Watch a show about a bunch of army dudes doing a survival course in the Northern Territory in which they spend the whole time talking and thinking about water and how the fuck they're going to get a hold of it using only a fire (which they have to make themselves), a jerry can, a tube, a plastic bag and a river full of salt-water crocodiles.
9. Go to bed in a cool room with a runny nose so that you have to mouth-breathe in your sleep.
Dehydration? You bet! Even though I got up and drank the water jug dry at about 3 a.m. You know how you get up in the morning and have a piss? And if you're dehydrated it's kind of ... pungent? Well I was pretty much pushing out pencil leads on the lemon tree this morning. I had so little moisture to give I was actually extruding graphite. Ouch.
***
GTH - I'm awarding the point to myninjacockle for the Tommy Buttfucker story. The header was a photo I took in Derry in 1999 during the Orange Marches where the teeny tiny little Protestant population march up and down the wall of the largely-Catholic fortified old town in celebration of how wonderful their religion is. The cops have to turn up and basically barricade the whole show to stop the two religions meeting up and smashing the shit out of each other. Thus does the connection with my dad's t-shirt occur.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Franzy's Further Advice for The Ill-Advised
Cook. Seriously. Chicks love food. We all know that, I hear you scoff, what sort of bullshit advice is this? True, but here's a little piece of extra ammunition for all the dudes out there, looking to cook their way towards the ladies.
Franzy's Piece of Advice About Women #2: Cook something with crunchy green vegetables in it. Forget the oysters, the Rohypnol and the Tiger's Dick Stew. Serve up something full of fresh-looking vegies that are green and you will be King of Ladyopolis.
Why? Women love to be healthy, even if they say they don't want to, they really mean that they do (where have I heard that before?). Anyway, they also catch a whole lot of shit about what they eat and so it's quite difficult to be both healthy and to eat properly. So when you come along and serve up your dish of sweet tasty tasty munchy greens, the healthy factor kicks in, the eating kicks in: you're a hero.
What should I serve, O Dealer Of Patronising Rambles? I hear you moan.
Stir fry - good. Make sure it's tasty. Put the greens in towards the end or they won't be crunchy.
But here's a couple of better tummy-fillers to get you going:
Franzy's Incredible Green Pastas for Women:
Pasta 1 - Zucchini Love
1. Oil in saucepan. Medium heat. Throw in crushed garlic. Let it cook a little.
2. Chopped onion, bacon and diced zucchini - into the pan! Heat up! Cook cook! Fry! Let the women smell this happening.
3. Can of tomatoes, splash of white wine and a big squirt of balsamic glaze.
4. Stir it up, little darlin', 'til it bubbles. Turn it down a bit - keep it bubblin'.
5. Give it twenty minutes of bubblin' and a'stirin', then put the pasta on.*
6. Whack the sauce on top. Serve.
7. Soak it up: "Wow! I love the zucchini! So sweet!"
Zing.
Pasta 2 - Green is the Reason for the Season
1. Big pot. Boil water. Throw in a Massel Chicken Stock Cube.
2. In goes the pasta.*
3. When the pasta is almost done, throw in chopped up broccolini (little, sweet broccoli or just plain broccoli)
4. When the pasta is ready, throw a handful of frozen peas into the water! Throw 'em right in! Yay!
5. Pasta's done, pour it into a strainer, save some of the chicken stock water.
6. Same pot. Back on the heat. Big lug of olive oil. Crushed garlic, 2 tablespoons of basil pesto, chopped up avocado, pepper, splash of white wine (or verjuice, if you're a toss-bag) and fry fry stir stir fry! Hot!
7. Strained pasta back into the pot, along with that half a tea cup of the stock you saved from being poured down the sink earlier (or not, if you went a bit crazy with the white wine).
8. Mix it up! Mix it until everything is touching everything else! Green-eyed and groovy!
9. Put in bowls, chuck a few fresh chopped basil leaves on top.
10. Serve it up, cowboy.
Make sure you've got lots of fresh-grated parmesan cheese. That way, if somehow you've managed to fuck either of these up, she can politely smother the taste of burnt tomatoes or white wine with plenty of Milanese Marching Powder.
* This is all based on the assumption that you know how to cook pasta. They say that to assume makes an ass out of u and me, but in this case, if you're still struggling with boiling water and telling the time, then the ass is all u.
***
GTH - 2 points to The Other, other Sam for the Bacon Bling gag and a point each to Kath and River for their stories about high school. And one to Lion for being a sport, unless he can provide a crunchy green Japanese recipe to use on the girl of and in his dreams. Then he will score 2 more points.
Franzy's Piece of Advice About Women #2: Cook something with crunchy green vegetables in it. Forget the oysters, the Rohypnol and the Tiger's Dick Stew. Serve up something full of fresh-looking vegies that are green and you will be King of Ladyopolis.
Why? Women love to be healthy, even if they say they don't want to, they really mean that they do (where have I heard that before?). Anyway, they also catch a whole lot of shit about what they eat and so it's quite difficult to be both healthy and to eat properly. So when you come along and serve up your dish of sweet tasty tasty munchy greens, the healthy factor kicks in, the eating kicks in: you're a hero.
What should I serve, O Dealer Of Patronising Rambles? I hear you moan.
Stir fry - good. Make sure it's tasty. Put the greens in towards the end or they won't be crunchy.
But here's a couple of better tummy-fillers to get you going:
Franzy's Incredible Green Pastas for Women:
Pasta 1 - Zucchini Love
1. Oil in saucepan. Medium heat. Throw in crushed garlic. Let it cook a little.
2. Chopped onion, bacon and diced zucchini - into the pan! Heat up! Cook cook! Fry! Let the women smell this happening.
3. Can of tomatoes, splash of white wine and a big squirt of balsamic glaze.
4. Stir it up, little darlin', 'til it bubbles. Turn it down a bit - keep it bubblin'.
5. Give it twenty minutes of bubblin' and a'stirin', then put the pasta on.*
6. Whack the sauce on top. Serve.
7. Soak it up: "Wow! I love the zucchini! So sweet!"
Zing.
Pasta 2 - Green is the Reason for the Season
1. Big pot. Boil water. Throw in a Massel Chicken Stock Cube.
2. In goes the pasta.*
3. When the pasta is almost done, throw in chopped up broccolini (little, sweet broccoli or just plain broccoli)
4. When the pasta is ready, throw a handful of frozen peas into the water! Throw 'em right in! Yay!
5. Pasta's done, pour it into a strainer, save some of the chicken stock water.
6. Same pot. Back on the heat. Big lug of olive oil. Crushed garlic, 2 tablespoons of basil pesto, chopped up avocado, pepper, splash of white wine (or verjuice, if you're a toss-bag) and fry fry stir stir fry! Hot!
7. Strained pasta back into the pot, along with that half a tea cup of the stock you saved from being poured down the sink earlier (or not, if you went a bit crazy with the white wine).
8. Mix it up! Mix it until everything is touching everything else! Green-eyed and groovy!
9. Put in bowls, chuck a few fresh chopped basil leaves on top.
10. Serve it up, cowboy.
Make sure you've got lots of fresh-grated parmesan cheese. That way, if somehow you've managed to fuck either of these up, she can politely smother the taste of burnt tomatoes or white wine with plenty of Milanese Marching Powder.
* This is all based on the assumption that you know how to cook pasta. They say that to assume makes an ass out of u and me, but in this case, if you're still struggling with boiling water and telling the time, then the ass is all u.
***
GTH - 2 points to The Other, other Sam for the Bacon Bling gag and a point each to Kath and River for their stories about high school. And one to Lion for being a sport, unless he can provide a crunchy green Japanese recipe to use on the girl of and in his dreams. Then he will score 2 more points.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Franzy's Advice for The Ill-Advised
I've decided to start up an advice column. You don't write to me asking for advice, I just tell you. Unwanted, unsolicited factoids about What To Do. I considered making it an advice column for dudes about how to treat chicks, and it may well turn out to be that, but I decided that it should be made clear that, if you're a bloke, you are receiving advice from someone who does refer to women as 'chicks'.
Sometimes.
Not constantly, but often. This could actually be a positive in your eyes, and could well be a positive in general, but I'll leave it to you to decide.
Let us kick it off with Franzy's Piece of Wisdom About Women #1:
Always notice her hair and say it looks great. Whatever it looks like. Lie if necessary. She won't know. And, if she finds out that you don't actually think it looks great, she won't care, she didn't do it for you anyway, you fool. If she's shaved it of, tell her she's got a great head! (Quips about giving great head will achieve the opposite effect). If she's rolling on the floor screaming about how much she hates it, be a little less forthcoming. If she has scissors, be more judicious still.
Ladies, am I full of shit? Or do you like it when a fella tells you, apropos of nothing, that your current style is smashing? Leave a comment please - ladies only for this one (Moify, you are, of course, excepted).
***
GTH - Ah, River. You tenacious little go-getter, the points are of course yours. This is part of a sculpture from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It is there to commemorate one of the earthquakes that seriously tore apart the city. It was as close to a picture of Judgement Day as I could get. Are we a little angry now? Sorry about that. I was trying to return to the roots of Guess The Header where I was trying to entice readers to come up with their own connections and meanings that linked the strange sliver of photograph to the stranger sliver of writing beneath it.
***
And in other news ... Bloggers enjoy blogging who would have thought.
Bloggers only for this one - do you feel happier after you've blogged? Or do you feel more anxious about your connections because you wonder if this blog will be as well-liked as your other one about travelling to Prague or your old boss?
Sometimes.
Not constantly, but often. This could actually be a positive in your eyes, and could well be a positive in general, but I'll leave it to you to decide.
Let us kick it off with Franzy's Piece of Wisdom About Women #1:
Always notice her hair and say it looks great. Whatever it looks like. Lie if necessary. She won't know. And, if she finds out that you don't actually think it looks great, she won't care, she didn't do it for you anyway, you fool. If she's shaved it of, tell her she's got a great head! (Quips about giving great head will achieve the opposite effect). If she's rolling on the floor screaming about how much she hates it, be a little less forthcoming. If she has scissors, be more judicious still.
Ladies, am I full of shit? Or do you like it when a fella tells you, apropos of nothing, that your current style is smashing? Leave a comment please - ladies only for this one (Moify, you are, of course, excepted).
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GTH - Ah, River. You tenacious little go-getter, the points are of course yours. This is part of a sculpture from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It is there to commemorate one of the earthquakes that seriously tore apart the city. It was as close to a picture of Judgement Day as I could get. Are we a little angry now? Sorry about that. I was trying to return to the roots of Guess The Header where I was trying to entice readers to come up with their own connections and meanings that linked the strange sliver of photograph to the stranger sliver of writing beneath it.
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And in other news ... Bloggers enjoy blogging who would have thought.
Bloggers only for this one - do you feel happier after you've blogged? Or do you feel more anxious about your connections because you wonder if this blog will be as well-liked as your other one about travelling to Prague or your old boss?
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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.
