Three Hundred

It looks more impressive spelt out, doesn’t it (what doesn’t?). Go ahead, say it aloud to take it to the next level of impressiveness.

Anyway, it feels like only yesterday I was doing that great thing to celebrate 200 posts. Now that 300 is almost here (another 5 or so posts should do it) I’m wondering what I can possibly do to top that.

I can’t think of anything! Although I KNOW I don't want to do anything that involves children, animals or conceiving.

Miss Red

Lately I’ve been misreading lots of shit. Here are some examples:

“Please dispose of rubbish in bin”

Padded diapers oh fucking grin

“Though shalt not kill”

Though shell mackerel

“Your blog is funny”

Your blog is funny (huh? With shit posts like this that CAN’T be right)

Worms

So I was thinking about the Channel 9 worm today. I bet it has a fucking great story to tell. I’m guessing that in a few weeks we’ll see a This Is Your Life special on that lovable bastard and how he/she went from being the ugliest worm in the village to the most lovable insect on the Australian planet.

How long do worms live? The thing must be nearing its natural life span soon. Wow, I really brought down the mood of the readers right here. Drag…

iBlogReview

Why aren’t people asking for blog reviews anymore? Are they scared?

Fucking pussies.

More From Art Class

Since my last reminiscence about year 9 art class was so successful I decided to relive some more of the pain for your entertainment. AND HOW DO YOU REPAY ME? BY FUCKING MY WIFE BEHIND MY BACK!

After I paid my dues in painting my teacher decided that it was time for me to try my hand, literally, at pottery of clay (pigeons?). It was all pretty normal and I definitely enjoyed it more than painting with my own blood and all the passing out/masterpiecery that ensued.

But one day something odd happened. The teacher had stepped out to make a phone call so I was doing my pottery alone. All of a sudden I felt an intense physical presence in the room. I spun around in my chair and saw… A GHOST! It was just standing there in the room, looking at me.

It began to walk towards me. I was paralysed with fear. The ghost sat down behind me on the chair and grabbed my hands, gently. It guided them to the mound of clay (pigeons?) on the spinning thingy and started slowly moulding a thing of beauty.

It was pretty hot!

Then the ghost looked at its wristwatch (sort of a cheap one. Although I guess ghosts don’t have much of an income) and said, “oh shit, is that the time? I’ve gotta run,” and walked off. “I thought you said you had to run?” I called after it. The ghost shrugged its shoulders and kept going at the same pace.

A few minutes later the art teacher came back and looked at my pottery, called it shit and slapped me with a moist towelette.

I Walk Because… (My Arse Looks Big In This)

I was on a bit of a walk today (how can you only be on a BIT of a walk? How non-committal) when I came across two other walkers. It was two hotbabes walking towards me on the footpath.

Why would people going for a brisk walk do the following:

• Wear some sort of cutesy exercising outfit that looked too “official” for “I’m just going for a walk.”
• Carry a large handbag.

The Little Truck That Could

One day on a walk I came across a large truck out the front of a black of flats in a nearby street. There was a man painting the truck in an awful shade of violet. He was painting on the name of a removal business--presumably his—and its “slogan”. As I looked at what he’d done and how he was painting I realised something: this truck is going to look shit when it’s done. The letters were wonky, the colours were terrible and his attempt at 3D letter (a drop shadow) didn’t work.

As the weeks went by I watched the truck evolve. Why was he taking so long to paint this truck? The mobile phone contact number on the side was only half done. Last week I noticed that he added a huge patch of violet on the bottom of the sides of the trucks. I hated that colour so it just made it look worse.

Then today something happened that changed it all. Not only did the truck FINALLY look completed, but someone had painted “Arfter Hours Contact:”

Sometimes I don’t even have to create funny. Sometimes funny just comes to me.

WhateverWatch

whatever
http://c-luva.blogspot.com/

So here it is, the final goodbye. With only 24 hours left for VDEE to update ‘whatever’ before I move on, I don’t think it’s going to happen. I’m letting go of whatever…

Take a Seat

“Take a seat,” said the man.
“Really?” I asked. Surely this was too good to be true.
“It’s all yours. I have dozens that I don’t need.”
“I’d feel sort of strange taking it…” I confessed.
“Come on, you’ll be doing me a favour by taking it off my hands.”
“To be honest, I’d rather a Volvo. Are you giving away any of those?”

If Snakes Could Fly

So I’m listening to an albulation of music right now (hmmm using stupid words isn’t funny anymore. I need a new style!) and one of the tracks asks the question, “what if snakes could fly?”

WE’D ALL BE PRETTY FUCKED!

Imagine flying snakes. Just go ahead and try! You probably can’t even imagine such terror. I’m pretty terror-proof (unless I see a fucking snake flying at me!) so I decided to make this list of hypothetical, everyday “what if snakes could fly?” situations:

• You’re sitting on a park bench eating lunch. A pigeon shits on your shirt. You say “damn” then a snake swoops down and bites you. You say “well that pigeon shit wasn’t so bad after all.”
• “Hey mum, a bird flew into our window! Oh shit, it was a snake! Since it’s still a snake that just moved it from air to ground where it is still deadly. I cannot win!”
• You’re swimming in the ocean and the blob is after you! No escape!
• You’re driving along in your vehicle and a snake flies in front of the car. You hit it and it dies. It didn’t bite you but you’ll probably die from trauma and the guilt of MURDER! “I cannot win!”

Dramatisation:

"This is our happy day! OH SHIT I CANNOT WIN!"

Eyyo Dre, Drop An Instrument(al) [Preferably A Trumpet]

With all my free time (time is money, LOL) I’ve been trying to teach myself to play the trumpet. I want to be a famous jazz legend like Miles Davis and Louis Armstrong and… Karl Malone.

But DAMN if it’s not hard! I thought if all these uneducated guys from America’s south in the 50’s could play like God’s then I should be able to play like a (oh, shit, what’s better than a God?) mars bar.

I’ve probably disadvantaged myself by trying to learn the trumpet without actually having a trumpet or having ever seen one.

Salaaaaaaami and Pheeeeeeeeeasant in the Delicateeeeeessen

Why do words sound so much creepier if you elongate one of the vowels in the word? Allow me to demonstrate. What… you won’t let me? FUCK YOU! Fuck you… I CAN’T HEAR YOU ANYMORE.

“You will find salami and pheasant in the delicatessen.”

Fair enough. That’s a good selection!

“Yoooooou will find salaaaaaami and pheeeeeeeasant in the delicateeeeeessen.”

OH SHIT! DELICATESSEN OF DEATH! In suburban Sydney (how inconspicuous)!

Chapoholics Anonymous

I saw a news “item” the other week saying that it’s possible to become addicted to using a chap stick. Apparently, some people apply chap about 50 times a day, often unconsciously.

Last year I applied chap roughly twice a day. Now I apply it about six times a day. I have a problem and I need to stop.

I just don’t want to be one of THOSE people with the chap addiction, forced to suck cock with my soft, soft lips for enough change to get another stick. Luckily they’re cheap so I can get about ten sticks for every cock I suck with my soft, soft lips. But still…

Join The Dark Side (Of Features)

As I’m sure you all know, I’m a pretty famous blogger. Because of that, pretty much every blog hosting site (Xanga, MySpace, TypePad, MSN Spaces, Coca Cola, etc) is trying to tempt me to stop using blogger and start using their service. How are they doing this?

Two words: features!

Every day I get an email from one of these companies saying they have new features that they think will “enhance the blogging experience for me and my readers”. Some of these new features that I’ve been offered (that regular users don’t get) include:

• Interest free period (The one thing I hate more than a lack of features is interest)
• Moat and/or pond
• Charming and lovable pets (how can you say ‘no’ to ‘Xanga’ the Maltese-spotted rock monkey?)
• Rock monkey habitats (useless. Or are they???)
• No added MSG

I’m not sure what to do.

The Wrong Number of… PASSION!

So I’ve decided that in my spare time off from being an underappreciated famous blogger-type dude I’ll work towards my dream of becoming a writer, a writer of romance novels. I just have a lot of passion inside me that I want to share with the world. Anyway, I’ve been working really hard and here’s an excerpt from my breakout novel, “Wrong Number of… PASSION!”

Elliot put the receiver back on the phone with a shaky hand. It was shaking from lust and shit like that. Who was that wrong number? Her voice was sultry, like a salty old sea dog who was whispering you a bedtime story about how he got that big scar on his belly. He assumed she was a smoker from those pauses she took between words; pauses, he assumed, she used to take a drag on her cigarette—probably one of those long, thin ones. “Is… Candice there?” she had asked. He told her no. “Oh… okay then… I must have a wr… ong number then,” she said before exhaling and hanging up the phone.

He breathed in deeply, searching for a lingering smell of cigarette smoke. Nothing. What did this woman REALLY want, he thought. With a voice like that one thing was for sure: she wanted romance and if time allowed, passion!

Pretty hot, I think you'll agree.

You’re The One

Or ARE you? I’m beginning to wonder just who the one really is, baby. Oh, you don’t want me to call you that? Well you should have thought about that before deciding to put a giant squid on my Windows Desktop. Yes, I KNOW that I love giant squid. But maybe I don’t want to seem them every time I turn on my computer.

I think you should just leave right now. No, just… leave… okay.

Beaten By My Own Design

I had this coming!

A few years ago, the website for Greater Union cinemas was www.greaterunion.com.au. www.greaterunion.com was taken by some random company. It was my fiendish plot to take this address once it became available and post up fake movie times, causing mass panic/hate. Unfortunately, the cinema chain pounced before I could to take the domain and shatter my dreams.

Yesterday I went to the Greater Union site to see what movies were on today. It told me that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory had opened. I was excited: CATCH (oh, shit, I never knew it was an acronym!) was one of those childhood movies that stayed with my into adulthood.
I get there today and look at the times on the board. No CATCH! www.greaterunion.com has lied to me! Karma’s a bitch.

Courage: In His Own Words by Jobe

So today I went to the shops and got myself a book deal to write an autobiography. I was thinking I’ll probably write it about myself. The deal is great! If I buy two books then I get one free (from a selected range), so the incentive to write my autobiography is definitely there.

Here are some of the topics I’ll explore in my book:

• My triumph over adversity
• Battles with drug abuse/fame
• Tips of writing your own autobiography
• How to make money working from home

Art Class

In year 9 art class I had a sadistic teacher. She kept me behind after class most days and forced me to paint random shit (vases, hanging gardens, life) using my blood as paint.

One day I was painting a red car (I was limited to painting red things most of the time). She came over to critique my work and just shook her head. She pointed at the light coat of blood on the roof and said “you need to learn to apply yourself more in art class.”

I nodded and broke down. She asked me what was wrong. “I just tried so hard this time. I put my heart into it this time.” She shook her head understandingly, placed her hand on my shoulder and kissed me on my lips—which had become cold and discoloured from the blood loss. I was too weak to fight her. Or maybe I wasn’t. I always liked arty girls…

Invading Your Personal (My)Space

It seems everyone has one of those MySpace things these days, except me (is that why I’m doomed to be lonely forever, LOL?). So the other day I was out collecting vox pops for my personal collection and I decided to ask a group of young (read: happening) people about their MySpace accounts. At first they were pretty open about it, answering questions about features and shit. But they suddenly became pensive when I asked them one question: “So, do you guys (and girl, LOL) have, like, easy to guess passwords? Sort of like your birthdays or pets names or something?”

It’s just a fucking question, pretty straight-forward. Why wouldn’t they answer it? And I thought we were going to become friends too…

Things I Know About…

So I’m going to see Alex Lloyd LIVE AND IN CONCERT in a few weeks. I’m not sure why, it was an impulse decision really. Here’s everything I know about Alex Lloyd:

• Has the letter ‘L’ in his name thrice
• Looks like Elvis a little. (L-vis?)
• Australian
• Probably doesn’t read my blog but is probably aware of who I am

Banal Cricket Observations

• Remember the first time you saw a game of cricket that was being taken from an overseas feed? You saw the opposing team were 9-0 and thought that something incredible, life-changing was happening. Could they bowl them all out for 0? Wait, what’s Allan Border still doing in? Oh… right… shit…
  
• Don’t confuse me by playing highlights of day two of the test match that happened last week on day one of this match. After watching the first 10 overs and seeing England running amok I come back a few hours later to find Australia are 2 down for 120. What the hell happened to England? How could they have posted 409 in only a few hours? Oh… right… shit…
  
• I forgot the third one. It was the funniest one. Oh well, sucks to be you. At least it’ll come back to me and I’ll be amused. You’ve just wasted a minute of your life. Nice work, sucker.

What A Hoot (Of Plagiarism And Unoriginality)

As I approach 300 posts on this blog in about two months, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve repeated myself at all. Or if it hasn’t already happened, when?

Surely my comedic talent has limits. Surely I can’t continually thinking up so much amazing original material without repeating myself somewhere.

But where? Was it 100 posts? Will it be 300? 1000? 12?

When Nature Calls

So I was drinking a lot of water today when nature called. I answered the call.

“Hello?”
“Hey, Jobe. It’s Nature.”
“Sup bro”
“Not much. Just called up
to see if you want to come over my place this Saturday for a party.”
“Sounds
good. Where do you live now, Nature? Still in Glebe?”
“Yea, same place as
before.”
“Alright man. I’ve gotta go drink some water now but I’ll see you
Saturday night.”
“Alrighty man, see ya.”
“Bye Nature."

Man, Nature calls me far too often.

Blog Review: Call For Auditions

WTOMH is about to undertake a new round of blog reviews. If you would like your blog scathingly (but gently) reviewed on this site then drop your details (URL) in the comments section or send off an email.

So much exposure for your site, so little time!

Re: Application For Job #18535

Thank you for your application for a role as underappreciated famous blogger-type dude/dudeette at What’s This On My Hand?. We certainly appreciate the time and effort you took to complete and submit your application.

Unfortunately, the standard of this year's applications was particularly competitive for the number of positions available and whilst we were impressed with your achievements to date, we are unable to take your application further at this stage.

Panda Service

My panda has been making an odd noise for the last few days so I decided to take it in for a service today. They checked it out pretty thoroughly and found out that it had a worn break pad and some bamboo caught in its teeth.

It was running around pretty good after I got it home (although purring like a kitten, WTF LOL). For all your panda service needs I strongly recommend you visit “A+ Panda Mechanics” at Beverly Hills.

Nothing Wrong Downstairs

So I went over to a friend’s house today to check out the new brickwork he’s done recently. It’s pretty impressive/extensive. Anyway, I asked him what other improvements he’s thinking of doing now that the brickwork’s “out of the way” (I speak in clichés). He responded in an odd way.

“Yeah I have a few things on my “to do” list. First off Cindy [his wife] wants me to sweep the chimney. She wants me to do it in front of her to make sure it gets done right. After that she wants me to do something for her in the living room. Nothing wrong downstairs though.”

Why was he using all these double entendres? When he asked me if I’d be able to “give him a hand with it, sometime,” I got the fuck outta there.

I’m A Millionaire, Yeah

Well I won a million dollars the other night. I didn’t want to announce it on the blog then because I knew you cheap bastards would hit me up for some money. So I spent it all during the week. I purchased the following things with my million dollars:

• Corn field
• Corn field employees/Corn growth specialists
• Tractor
• Scarecrow/Scarecrow growth specialist

Now It’s Personal

Well at least it will be personal in the near future. Not sure EXACTLY when it will be personal though. But you can be SURE that it will be personal when the time is right.

Job Opportunity

Unrecognised Famous Blogger-Type Dude/Dudette

• Blue Chip blog
• Well respected organisation
• Experience of a lifetime

A person of unquestionable hilarity but questionable sanity/motives is required to join our blogging team.

What’s This On My Hand is the best blog in the universe/blogiverse and recognised as one of the funniest things to ever exist in life. This position will be based in “Cyperspace”, Australia.

As an unrecognised famous blogger-type dude or dudette at our organisation, you will be responsible for creating hilarity, entertaining the masses (both hotbabes and ugly people), “networking” and maintaining the organisation’s reputation as the funniest blog to post so often, ever.

Desirable applications will posses the following skills and experience:

• Experience at funniness
• Education, or at least ability to fool others that you have education
• Imagination!
• Experience with being famous and blogging
• At least 12 months experience being underappreciated
• Ability to be funny many, many times a day
• Little or no life

We offer a very competitive salary of nothing with dozens of fringe benefits such as frustration, non-existent praise, famousness, pictures of iPods and people holding (and using?) iPods.

To apply for this job please forward examples of your funniness to email or post them in the comments section.

A Problem feat. Missy Elliot and Maths (Produced by The Neptunes)

If I had a dollar for every time I heard “thanks for giving me a dollar, Jobe” then I’d break even.

Why bother, really?

Cute? Are You MAD?

So I went to the animal house today (aquarium/zoo?) to see various animals and shit. It was baby animal today, which meant they took all the old, ugly animals out the back and shot them for your entertainment. Most of the surviving young animals were pretty cute, except for one.

BABY SEAL PUP

Oh man! This thing looked worrying. When we locked eyes I dropped my feed bag out of fear/poor handsmanship. It looked so evil, I just wanted to club its hideous, twisted face right into the ice.

My animal-viewing companions didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Don’t get me wrong, I love nature and all that, but this seal pup was bad. I bet his hobbies include oppression, genocide and scrabble.

Pussy-Arse Bitches (And Not The Good Kind)

So today I’m informed that music supergroup Little Birdy have postponed their tour for two months. The reason? The have a cold.

Maaaaan, you have NO idea how pissed this makes me. Delaying a tour for two months due to “the flu” is so stupid. This is rock and also roll! I don’t want people like that (read: pussy soft cunts) affiliated with “the movement”. So, instead of going to The Metro in Sydney on Thursday night and NOT seeing Little Birdy, I propose you all come over my house and enjoy the following:

• Rock
• Roll (both bread and music kinds)
• Drinking
• Roadies bum-crack (in abundance)
• Doing lines off a groupies stomach
• Music
• Fun-Sized Fun!
• Flu-symptom influenced ROCK!

WhateverWatch

whatever
http://c-luva.blogspot.com/

Still no update (although VDEE’s profile views have doubled in the past few days from 8 to 16). If “whatever” hasn’t been updated by Sunday I will start watching another blog through utter disappointment.

Whatever, if you’re listening, it could have been good—hell, it can STILL be good—but you need to change yourself. You need to update yourself. By Sunday.

Downsizing

The Management of WTOMH regret to announce a number of layoffs in the comments division. These layoffs were necessary if the blog was to remain viable (super-successful!) and allow us to continue offering superior customer service to our clients.

If you have received an email asking you to cease your commenting on this blog then please act accordingly. For those commenters who did not receive the layoff email, we assure you that we don’t anticipate any more layoffs in the comments division. We hope that you will continue to come to work with the same enthusiasm and dedication as before. Your hard work is what kept you here.

Simple, Everyday Words I Forgot Existed

1. Whose

That’s all for now.

1000 Men Of Questionable Social Status (In Gumboots)

Exactly one thousand men of questionable social status just walked past me, wearing gumboots. They weren’t marching or even travelling in a group. They were just walking around, milling almost.

Update: I gave them a $5 note, told them to fuck off and got the hell out of there.

What's This On My Hand?

A grim insight into my future?

You’re All I Could Ever Want/Need

Wow! I’m in love for the first time in my life.

I’m in love with the functionality of the new products available at Ikea. There’s just so much to love. I’m not one to normally mention this sort of stuff to anyone but the price is UNBELIEVABLE with Ikea. It’s the best prices I’ve ever had. But that’s only one of the MANY reasons I’m in love.

Oh, How Fun

Let’s face it, miniature Mars and Snickers bars aren’t fun. They’re just FUCKING NOT! Sorry, I get a bit emotional. Anyway, I thought that I’ll help out “big business”. You see, the concept of something being fun-sized isn’t that bad, it’s just not being used in the right products. Just imagine these products and how much of an improvement they’d be:

• Fun-Sized Baby Coffins (“Look, Harry. Doesn’t little Jimmy look great/I’m grieving”)
• Fun-Sized Condoms
• Fun-Sized Fun!
• Fun-Sized Botulism
• Fun-Sized Robbery
• Fun-Sized People (no more ‘midget-calling’ related discrimination cases)

Recipe: Greek FLAVOUR Pockets

Well I was cooking tonight (food) and I stumbled upon a great recipe I think you’ll all like.

Ingredients (available from your local Coles supermarket):

• Various Flavour (TM)
• Greece
• Pockets

Method:

• Just cook the flavour with the Greece and put them in the pockets. It’s that easy!

Feel free to experiment with different flavours too.

Changing My Name (For Effect)

I was in a music store today when I realised that a key factor to having a successful blog is having a name that starts with ‘A’. Just look at all the successful music acts that start with the letter ‘A’ that are successful at music (and blogging):

• Ace of Base
• ABBA
• AC/DC
• Aerosmith
• Adam Ant
• Beatles

That’s pretty indisputable! So I’ve thought of the following new names for my blog:

• Ay, What’s This On My Hand?
• Ace of Base?

That’s all I have so far. I’ve spent most of the time just tapping my pen against the pad, staring off into the distance. I tap a rhythm sometimes.

My Holiday Of Fun

I’m sure none of you noticed, but for the past three days I went on a holiday to a destination. The purpose of this holiday? To get the fuck away from here! Seriously, it’s been pretty crazy around here lately. Why? (whoa, lots of questions tonight!) Because I’ve been chosen to host the 2008 Olympic Games (of Summer AND Winter).

I’m not sure how it came about, since I didn’t actually tender a bid, but I assume that some IOC officials saw this blog and thought that my severe comedic skills would translate well to hosting Olympic Games in an international scene.

I practically begged them to let me get my “training wheels” at a smaller event, because I am useless at riding a bike without them. They said there was no time since preparations have to start immediately.

I just hope I don’t have to ride a bike in the opening ceremony.

Product Review: Paper Mate Replay

Every now and then a product will come along and it will be so astonishingly good or innovative (or both!) that you’ll just kick yourself for not thinking of it. The Paper Mate Replay looked to be such a product. But it was not to be. Instead I found myself perplexed at why such a product even exists.

You see, the Paper Mate Replay is a pen with an eraser on it. HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I hear you saying. An erasable pen would change the way the world works and totally piss off every company who makes white-out (ummm Paper Mate?). Which would be great IF IT FUCKING WORKED AT ALL!

I drew a line on a piece of paper, excitedly. I went about erasing it. After wiping away the pieces of “erase” I noticed something shocking: the line was still very much there. Why bother with such a product? To get people to think “oh, shit, an erasable pen. I’ll buy 301. No, make it 302, I want one for the car too”?

1/7 (good marketing)