The worst thing about being crook is that being 'bed ridden' sounds like it should be a fun thing...
The worst thing about being crook is that being 'bed ridden' sounds like it should be a fun thing...
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Life is something I catch myself waving back at, even though it's waving at the guy behind me.30/9/2013 The multiverse theory has my interest piqued. Infinity is so cool, but so wonderfully furstrating. An infinite number of universes theoretically means that there exists universes with me, without me, and with all varying possibilities of me, along with all the varying not mes. Most interestingly there exists a universe where I have lived my same exact life up until this point that has a blog where I've spelled 'furstrating' correctly. Not only that, but also a universe where 'furstrating' is the correct spelling. What a completely ridiculous notion. Doesn't it all seem a little superfluous to maintain infinite variables? Or is this what makes time and space time and space. Like I said; piqued; furstrating. What is even more furstrating is that this bastard contraption has auto-correct and I have to uncorrect its corrections. The only thing that makes this whole debacle worthwhile is that I'm currently chuckling at the me writing this exact thing without auto-correct and not understanding why I'm bitching about the pains of auto-correct when it doesn't even exist. The other mes are nicer... It sounds all too easy and awesome, but you can absolutely bond with your special someone in three easy steps, by simply focusing on her breasts. 1.Get her really drunk (always an important step in establishing trust, especially if you are constantly doing stupid shit and you've already worn out all of your usual arguments). 2.Make sure she's really asleep (None of this drowsy shit; comatose is what we want. Premature waking will only confuse her into thinking you're some kind of weirdo perv, which you obviously aren't). 3. Plan your gluing, then superglue your left hand to her right breast and let it dry. Try not to get glue on her nipple (make sure that you're comfortable because you guys have quite a bit of one-on-one time ahead and if she gets hang-overs you will need to be able to hold her hair while she talks to god down the porcelain phone). Voila! Admittedly, this is literally a physical bonding in the fact that the skin of your left palm is fused to her right boob, but in the six hours you two will spend in the emergency department she'll come to realise that this is an emotional bonding experience that you have instigated in a misguided attempt to show her that you want to be together forever. How can that be a bad thing? Be understanding of her initial frustrations, because waking up with your tit glued to someone's hand can be a little emotionally disorienting. She will have some serious questions and call you some serious names, but be resolute. Explain that this is a step in your courtship and that engagements are taken too lightly these days and in your humble opinion you never really know anybody until you've been glued to their genitals. Ps. It's a good idea to manscape the hairy manberry bush in preparation for perfectly justifiable reciprocation Thaal turns to look quickly at the wall of the small family hovel where their tools
hang under a thin wooden eave. Two scythes are missing as well as a round of binding. Their fathers have taken all they would require into the field. Oort is standing silently next to him. Thaal, a half a head taller than his brother, nudges him with his elbow and nods toward the field. They walk past plot after stonewalled plot. Some gardens overflow with the foliage of vegetables and fruit while others are empty to rest the soil. The siblings pass a pair of gardens with the walls only partially completed. The brothers were learning how to build with rock. For the first time Oort was as good as his brother at something. It felt good to both of them. His brother smiled and nodded at him. Oort didn’t smile back. “At the cleansing yesterday you didn’t make the pronouncements.” “Oort, I don’t want to do this again...” “What if the Eldest had seen?” “Oort.” “This hurts me, too.” “The only reason I remain here is because of you. You know it. Why do we need voice these things again?” “I our think Fathers noticed.” “Of course.... I’m not trying to hide anything from them, or you, but I do not believe The Elder’s stories. Let us upon the field and work.” “No!” “Oort...” “I want to know what you know that makes you not agree.” “I don’t know anything.” “Explain it to me! Voice it once.” “These things need not be said. You shame us both with your continued requests.” Thaal turns from his brother and walks into the long grass of the field. Oort follows, careful not to lose sight. The anthropic principal (or in the very least a blunt and watered down version of it) is that we evolved within a set of chemical and physical laws and we grew to fit the universe. We only have the ability to think about our place in the cosmos because we are a product of a cosmos that is habitable. Another view of the universe is that it was designed by god/s in such a way to encourage the advent of followers to run about spouting ideas such as "The universe was designed for us! Just look at this planet that supports life so well!" I call this the misanthropomorphic principle, named because our depictions of gods seem to be human-like (anthropomorphism) and religious texts colour them as unreasonable jerks to their people (which is ultimately misanthropic). Yes, I know the texts cover warm and fuzzy stuff too, but indiscriminate killing, including requests for child sacrifices and endorsement of genocide, kinda outweigh the positive. In my mind it stands to reason (not that my reasoning is always sound) that the anthropic principle's flip-side is the misanthropomorphic principle. Like I said, my reasoning isn't always sound. What is it about '4 star heritage arsehole' by Front End Loader that makes it the greatest punk song ever?
Clocking in at 2.24 it's the perfect song length. It starts with a punch, has crunchy guitar, killer bass and Australia's greatest living drummer. It features sarcastic and incisive socio-political lyrics, doesn't involve a single Oi! and has a swear in the title. The song is 100% class. It doesn't cheapen itself with mindless repetition. The guitar solo is simple and non-wanky, and the song's timing changes go from nod, to strut, to rockout and back without feeling forced or anything other than completely organic. Front End Loader had me at 'Pulse'. I heard it just once and had to own it. As a result in lieu of a stick of weed I spent the remains of my dole cheque on 'Last of the V8 Interceptors'... A decision I have never regretted. Front End Loader's 'Last of the V8 Interceptors' is just one of those timeless albums that really highlights everyone else's vague smell of camphor and Metamucil. Stop being a petulant little bitch and check it out. Seems I'm a regular Chatty Cathy tonight, which is like a normal Chatty Cathy, but with more dietary fibre.
I was telling a friend at work about a song I wrote called 'Velcro', which was all about my love of Velcro. The subject only came up because we were talking about frozen meat pies and I have a song about that as well, but I wanted to convey that the pie song was better than the one about Velcro, but somehow the conversation got weird. Turns out they hate Velcro. Velcro has destroyed every nice piece of fabric they have ever owned. In my head it occurred to me that perhaps they were doing it wrong and they needed to put hooks to loops and not hooks to random bits of fabric. Then it occurred to me that it might not be the Velcro that they are upset at, as people have a tendency to assign misplaced hidden feelings on unsuspecting inanimate objects. My logical train of thought was that Velcro was developed by NASA, NASA sends astronauts to space and astronauts tend to be away from home for a long time. Perhaps my friend had an absent father and that's why they don't like Velcro. Fingerpainting is a great way to get back to childhood expression and also flush out aggression so maybe some fingerpaintings of their dad was required. That was in my head. So, when my friend said "I HATE VELCRO!!! It has ruined every nice piece of fabric I have ever owned", me saying "Perhaps some fingerpaintings of your dad is required...?" is a perfectly logical response, right? |
About the authorLouie is not as smart as he is tall, less sensible than he is bearded, and as green as he is blue. Archives
August 2016
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