It Felt Like The First Firstdate

When she first commented on my blog I didn’t really think much of it, she was just another name on the screen amongst the others. Even when she kept commenting regularly I still thought nothing of it. But I started reading her blog after the first few comments. She was funny and she could really write. Unlike the rest of the blogs I read, this one I could relate to. She was going through what I was going through. We were at the same point in life. She was just like I was. The only difference was that she had the courage to write about it. I kept it hidden behind a veil of “humour”.

When I saw that email in my inbox that day I was excited. I never thought it would go past from the odd comment on each others blog. But it had, and I was glad. Even then I didn’t think it would amount to anything. We shared a connection--a rapport--but that was it. It HAD to be it: Neither of us was the type of person to meet someone from the internet in the flesh for the purposes of romance. I tried to put the idea out of my mind. But still the emails came and went and we kept growing closer and sharing more and more of our souls. But then the time came. We both felt it. We couldn’t just leave all that unexplored. It was too good.

I didn’t want to be the one to risk losing what we had. We both knew I didn’t have the balls, so she took the risk and raised the issue. We need to meet. We can go into it with no preconceptions and no expectations, but we have to meet. If only to cross out that option.

So she proposed a time—Saturday 6pm—and I said yes.

And we met.

And it was the best firstdate ever.

So I’ll propose the next time, because I don’t want to risk losing what we had. This time I have the courage. You gave it to me tonight. You gave me more than I could have imagined. But I still want more...

Hiatus Over

Normal blogging will now resume. Stalker hotbabes have slowed somewhat.

I’ll make a few posts soon to tell you all the things I’ve been doing since we last spoke.

Taking a Break

I have far too many hotbabes stalking me because of my blog.

As a result I’m taking a break until things quieten down a bit.

Feminismist

I was sort of disgusted at myself today for being used by ANOTHER man last night. So I decided that I’ll become a feminist for a while.

Pros:

• Get to read feminist literature
• Get to cut hair short (good for summer!)
• Don’t have to spend hours making myself look hot

Cons:

• Don’t get to make sex with boys anymore/ Have to dine on poon. <---gross
• What’s that strange smell in my hand? Poor hygiene!
• Don’t like feminist literature (coz I can’t relate?)

The Punk Goldfish From Australian Idol Uses Another Literary Device

“Wasabi/ She’s so hot she makes my mind blow”

Holy shit! That’s probably the most appropriate metaphor for a girl EVER!

So punk too.

Jealous I didn't think of it first.

OMG Truth Serum

Yes, I enjoy moving objects into incorrect places.

OMG Truth Serum

On Location: Brad Pitt’s Head

As I boarded my mystery flight I had no idea where I was going. I was hoping that we’d go to the Gold Coast coz, hey, it’s the only decent place to go, really. When I took my seat I turned to the person next to me and told them how much I hope we go to the Gold Coast. He said that on the ticket it said our destination was Brad Pitt’s head, not the Gold Coast. What did he know? He seemed defeated by life. Unlike me. My enthusiasm was so infectious that I was isolated from the rest of the passengers.

Eventually we arrived in Brad Pitt’s head like the sad man said. When I got out of the plane the first thing I noticed was the temperature, which was rather cool. Maybe it was winter in Brad Pitt’s head?

I had come dressed for the beach so the cold was getting to me. I put my beach towel around me like a cape. Better!

We had 2 hours before our return flight so I just made the post of it, seeing the sights and all that. I did most of the touristy things and went to all the “lookouts” but I also did some underground stuff that locals told me about.

It was a good holiday.

Quick Post

This is just a quick post to let you know that I have a hot firstdate tomorrow with a girl I really like. I hope it goes well, of course. I wish it was Steph but… I guess there comes a time when you have to give up and move on *sigh*.

Gold Feet

When I was given 3 wishes I wasted the first 2 on normal things: everlasting money, packet of tim-tams that never run out (always wanted to say that, LOL). For my third wish I asked the genie for what he thought would be a good wish. He said that it would be nice if I wished that he could be free. I said, “nah, fuck it, gimme some gold feet.” And so he gave me some gold feet.

They’re okay I guess. I’ve always preferred silver and, to a lesser extent, tin.

Cold Feet

I was going to get married today but I got cold feet and didn’t. I also didn’t have anyone to marry. But I guess my feet were too cold to allow me to go out and ask anyone, anyway.

Am I?

Very much so!

One is the Loneliest Number of All

I’m thinking that I want to try having kids again. But this time I’ll do it right.

This can only end in tears (of joy due to childbirth).

What’s This On My Hand?

IT’S CERTAINLY NOT A PICTURE!

Sky Writer

Kevin Costner stars as the Sky Writer in the new romantic drama (how dromantic?) from Warner Brothers. Sandra Bullock stars as Sandra Gorman, a go-go city girl who has moved to the country after having a nervous breakdown and stabbing people with office equipment. But when Sandra discovers the Sky Writer her world gets turned upsidedown with mystery and romance and gravity. But not all is it seems. Is the Sky Writer a ghost from the past? Yes, but you knew that anyway.

Ski Riding

Went skiing today for a bit of a lark. I met a guy there who was skiing for the first time. I’m a bit of a pro legend on the slopes so I volunteered to help him out, since everyone was like “Pfft, fuck off ski noob.”

He smiled when he realised that I was giving him a chance. He was a bit too eager but I was cool enough for the both of us so that was okay. But then he opened his mouth and asked if I could “teach him how to ski ride.”

I told the ski noob to fuck off.

Sky-Writing

Today I was listlessly staring out of the window at work into the wild blue yonder and shit (sky? Either way YOU WOULD HAVE LOOKED HOT JOBE) when I noticed a sky writer had taken residence in the heavens and was writing out a message.

The wind was still so the letters hung for an eternity. I followed his path for almost an hour, not knowing what he was spelling out until he was complete. When I received the message I smiled.

It was a great.

First Step

Before doing ANYTHING I like to pause and think of the real-world applications of my action.

The Firstdates Club (of Members)

I never knew it would come back around and bite me. But now that it, allegedly, has.. I’m embarrassed, angry, afraid and ashamed. I just never thought that the girls I wrote about in my firstdate posts would come back and start a blog about the firstdates they had with me!

I’m not too sure of the details but apparently one of the girls I firstdated has started a blog that allows all the girls—the countless girls (and dudes, don’t forget THAT period in my life)—to contribute their stories/pictures/stained articles of clothing/haberdashery.

I found out through one of the hotbabes—not saying names, Tracy Spicer, LOL—who was asked to contribute by the mysterious blogmaster.

I’m pretty scared right now. I have secrets. Sexy secrets. If people read them they will probably cry/masturbate over them.

Quick Post

This is just a quick post to let the sound man know I need my headphones turned up (OMG that’s sexist).

5 Things That Explain My Success (And The Reason That The IR Reforms Have Passed)

1. Hard work
2. Patience
3. A liquid diet
4. A strongly worded press release
5. My autobiography, coming out soon

Time To Get Paranoid Again (OMG Already?)

I remember last time I had a few more hits than normal—when Ms Fits sung my praises (sexily?)—I became a nervous wreck due to all of the visitors I was getting from government domains.

Well they’re back. And they’re… right outside (perhaps). But I am always right when I write. Alright?

Delicious Nutritious Fact

Diseases are light weight, and can often be filling and help you lose weight.

UNLOCK the secret today!

Terra Cronullius

Looks like my post/world-class report on the race we held in Cronulla has become pretty famous. Describe by other blog-type dudes as “the best” and “a good attempt at satire” (what the fuck, why be sarcastic? Cunt).

It was splashed all over the television too, like a cup on the above shelf that fell and spilt. The news reports where everywhere. Mini-races even started up in other suburbs overnight.

Everyone agrees one thing: There will be more race tension before the big races which will happen as a result of this! (and also that I am a God of contests).

Quick Post (Just For Steph (and any other whiny bitches who can’t take my load (of humour)))

Only 2 posts tonight, one of which is this one.

Race Tension

I received a text message this morning and was told to head down to Cronulla as soon as possible and bring all my flags (I only have 2, LOL). So I get down there and see a big crowd has formed. A lot of bogans and ethnic types were standing around, yelling and drinking beer in the street. I could mean only one thing: trouble!

The crowd all noticed me at once, staring at the flags I had. I walked closer and they surrounded me. The crowd fell silent. It was almost like all of Cronulla had surrounded me in anticipation of SOMETHING.

I held one of my flags in the air. The tension was so thick I was almost choking on it. Everyone was here for one purpose only.

I held my flag in the air and everyone anticipated what was coming next.

I dropped the chequered flag I had brought, yelled “GO!” and everyone took off running.

People ran all over the place, trying to win the race. People tried to slow other people down. The police even showed up and wanted to join the race. They used their capsicum spray to slow down other people. I thought it was a bit unfair, but whatever.

I think today’s race in Cronulla will be remembered for a long time. If not for the race itself, then at least the preceding race tension.


WINNING WILL BRING HONOUR TO MY FAMILY

I Wonder…

Do animals named after brands/products KNOW that they’re named after a product/company? Do they care?

If not, would they care if they knew?

Cadbury Slips Up

Cadbury has been one of my favourite brands for quite a while because their quality is, while nothing exceptional, consistently high. But they’ve dropped the ball with Turkish Delight ice cream!

I love Turkey, and not just because they have meat and they hate Greeks (although that’s a big part of it, LOL). I mostly love Turkey because it is the world’s top Turkish Delight producing nation. As a result, I was excited to see that Cadbury have produced a Turkish delight ice cream.

Imagine my disgust/smooth hands running all over your warm body, making your vagina slowly moisten/anger when I saw that they ONLY make it in a “light” flavour.

Cadbury, fuck you for that.

Jobe Uses Another Literary Device

This heaving post.

WTOMH Live: Metro Theatre, December 10, 2005 (Concert Review)

I really couldn’t be fucked last night, to tell you the truth. The support acts tried really hard but everyone had really come to see me and me alone. When I arrived, late and half drunk NOT ALONE, the crowd let out a collective sigh of disappointment/bad breath.

Not many people showed up really, and those that did show up I would have preferred that they didn’t.

Now I know what you’re thinking (HOLY SHIT GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!): Jobe, it’s all your fault.

You are so wrong and judgemental. It was all the fault of the sound guy.

Let’s hope the next concert, December 21 at the Annandale, is better.

Hi Girls

Yesterday I bought a copy of Larousse Gastronomique, the encyclopaedia of cooking (predominately French). I could cook well before, now I am amazing. My dreamboat status is {{OFF THE SCALE}}.

If you would like me to cook for you in exchange for you dressing as a giraffe and dancing for me (sexily), please apply in writing in the comments section below.

Sing Me a Song, You’re the Piano Man (On The Bus)

Those from interstate may not be aware, but in Sydney the trains stop at midnight and you have to get a bus. These buses or “nightriders”, as they’re called, are throbbing, heaving masses of people and alcohol.

Last night there was a group of about 10 people on my bus who decided it would be a good idea to sing. I quite like singing, it’s the noise of happy, but what these people were doing was a little different.

Every song they sung was to the tune of “the wheels of the bus”, a classic song, but one which can get slightly annoying if you repeat the same three lines ad nauseum (OMG Jobe’s using Latin. He’s so cultured I wish I was on the bus with him so we could discuss Russian literature and engage in intercourse).

They were the most popular guys in the city that night for their cheer and good spirits (unlike the bar I went too, LOL).

{{Winner}}

Thanks to everyone who entered the competition to win a car and a duckling. There were so many great entries but in the end there could be only one winner.

The prize goes to Jobe for his fantastic Victorian-themed (not the state) entry.

Congratulations Jobe!

Cross Dressing

If I wore a short with crosses all over it, would people think I was trendy, a cross-dresser, or both?

It would really fuck with their heads if I walked across a crossing, chasing after someone I was cross with (who dresses people?)

Cross-Dressing

I purchased tickets for the Antony and the Johnsons show yesterday, and was informed I will be in the dress circle.

I don’t wear a dress and circles make me nervous.

Could this be a bad experience?

Someone more cultured than me please let me know:
a) What to expect at a sit-down concert featuring a large transsexual.
b) What to wear.
c) What the fuck the dress circle is.
d) What Aretha Franklin meant when she said “R-E-S-P-E-C-T/ Take out the T-C-P”

*glares hopefully at Ladycrackerandcheese*

The Neighbours Return

Some of you will remember the ongoing saga with the neighbours. The 5am cricket game that never ended, etc.

I was out on Friday night celebrating the birth of Princess Mary’s baby, oblivious to the confrontation that would soon be before me. I wandered home and noticed someone standing on the corner of my street, between my house and the neighbours. I see that it’s a bogan hotbabe (ie what a bogan would call hot but what is fucking rank to me) and she’s calling into the neighbour’s house, telling someone to hurry up.

I approach her and prepare to move past her.

“Want something to eat, mate?” she says in a bogan voice, offering some sort of food.

I’ve never been one to take food from Nazi bogan cricket players.

“Nah, I’m right.”

I head inside and sleep.