Customer Service

The transit police have a bit of a reputation for being cunts. Last night I had my first major run in with them, and I will recount this for you, the viewers, so you too can experience it. So sit back, relax, or some shit.

I met Phil (I don’t remember his name but he looked like a Phil) on the platform while I was waiting for a train/vomiting. We hit it off immediately. He formally identified himself as an undercover transit officer and I said “oh shit”. Just like old mates!

We had a chat for a while before our train arrived. He asked me where I was going and decided that he’d go there too. He’s a very spontaneous guy, is Phil. Our train arrived and we chose our seats. He decided to sit opposite me so we could continue our chat. I told him that I didn’t feel like chatting—I actually felt more like shit—so we just sat quietly. But it wasn’t an awkward silence at all.

Halfway home I began to feel sick again and decided to have a bit of a dry-wretch for a laugh. Phil found this pretty funny and said that I’m “such a drunk” and reminisced about times when I had gotten drunk and done stupid shit. Like that time when I got really drunk and he saw me throwing up at the train station.

After reminiscing, Phil decided to take care of me. He took his shopping from his plastic shopping bag and gave me the bag, just in case. His shopping went everywhere.

Phil got off a few stops later to chase some graffiti bandits so we said our goodbyes.

I really like transit officers now.

Fucked Up Google Search of the Day

http://www.google.com.au/search?hl=en&q=When did sophie Delizio die%3F&meta=

When Dreams Become Reality

Last night, I couldn’t stop dreaming about little girls running away from home.

It’s pretty messed up.

So if any of my little girl readers are contemplating running away from home, please don’t do it. You have people who love you, even though you might not know it. Eg your parents. Unless you’re an orphan, but if you’re an orphan no one cares if you run away from the orphanage or die or whatever so do what you want.

I Didn't Get Drunk Last Night

I got even.

Seal Clubbing

A house remix of “Kiss From A Rose”?

Yes, I know this was a poor week for blogging. Rest assured, I’m taking it very easy this weekend so I’ll totally try and not suck.

Good News!

There is some freakish virus travelling around my team at work and I feel like crap.

My posts about being sick are easily the most hilarious on this blog. I can’t wait for some more quality material to infect.

Desperate Times

Desperate times, guys. Desperate times.

Looks like we’re for another night of non-posting, unless I come down with a mystery illness and need to leave the band to recover, leaving me free to blog/look at porn.

You’ll be pleased to know that the Japanese Film Festival was very good (lot of Chinese people there though…) and I plan to go back for more. You may not be pleased to know that this will probably involve less posting.

Friday night (wow, tomorrow) isn’t looking good either, due to work Christmas party.

Wow, this blog just went all shitty personal blog quickly.

The Ins and Outs of Being Post-Cool: SPECIAL IN DA CLUB EDITION

OUT: Drinking shots
IN: Drinking yoghurt

OUT: House and garage music
IN: Carport music

OUT: Dancing with attractive members of the opposite sex
IN: Pretending you aren’t even interested in members of the opposite sex

OUT: Staying out until morning
IN: Going home at 7pm, showing and diving into a good book

OUT: Polo shirts with popped collars
IN: Shanking people wearing polo shirts with popped collars

Germs In Water

I want to make a pop song about how all I see in my drink of water is germs.

Example chorus:
I look around and seeee
GERMS IN WATER GERMS IN WATER
Swimming all around meeeeee
GERMS IN WATER GERMS IN WATER

Maybe they'll show the clip on Channel 10 as a public service announcement.

FYI

There probably won't be any posts tonight because I'm checking out the first of many movies at the Japanese Film Festival.

You can come if you want. We'll hold hands at the movies. Either way, I won't post tonight. Entertain yourselves. Or check out Steph, I'm sure she'll do something stupidly retarded and amuse us all.

Attn: Iron Chef USA

You are shit.

Give up.

I’ll Never Forget You, Spicey

In lieu of my beloved Tracey Spicer’s sacking from Channel 10, I thought it would be fitting to remember some of her finer moments on the blog.

We first met her in the early days, not really doing much. I think I kept her to myself a little because I knew what other people would do to her. But my true feelings towards her were always obvious.

After a while one thing led to another and I went out with her on one of my patented firstdates. A few days later, after a bad date, I upset her by asking her for Angelina Jolie’s number. But we still remained friends. This alliance served me well in time.

She was always appreciated, but after a while she just drifted out of my thoughts. And out. And out.

Still... I'll always love her...

Press Play

I want to make a CD player where the stop/play/rewind/skip/etc buttons never do what they’re supposed to.

Eg press play and the CD stops.

They will take the human earth by storm and everyone will have one.

But the cool thing is that each button will do different things for each CD player. So you’ll go to a mates place and look like a fucking fool changing the music.

Date a Blogger Girl, Give it a Whirl

I reckon it would be fun to date on of the chicks who blog heaps so we can blog about each other and people can watch the romance blossom and when I dump her for something she said about me on her blog that I took out of context in the heat of the moment people can read about that to and take sides.

I reckon that would be fun.

But who?

Hi

Hey skinny hotbabe who is eating more than me. Want to hang out or just go crazy and get married or something?

Sure you do.

HEY WAIT!

WTF re: that ring on your finger?

You were playing me for a fool!

Dear Burwood (NSW),

Why are there so many stains on your ground?

Do spilly people come here to die?

Yours,
Jobe

Story With a Twist

Steven has just finished writing his first novel. He is utterly thrilled at what he has managed to do and is excited about what lies ahead of him: hitting the book trails, fame, fortune, sluts, etc. But he knows that first he needs to get out there and sell his book to the people.

Steven’s book is an intense and thought-provoking character piece about a young man living in the city. Throughout the book the character develops and, eventually, finds himself. It’ a coming of age book but totally not shit. The core to the book is the main characters interactions with his roommate who is quite vocal with his opinions and tries to exert influence on the main character.

While the insight into the mind of a young man growing up in the city is profound and Steven’s descriptions of the night life and gloriously vivid, what makes the novel better than the rest is the twist ending. You see, the roommate in the book is actually a voice in the main characters head. Towards the end of the book he discovers this and manages to overcome what has burdened him for years. It’s an unexpected element in the novel that takes everyone who reads it by surprise. It will become known as the literary Sixth Sense or Crying Game.

His publisher is excited by this book because it is the first great book that she has ever put out through the publishing house she set up. All of the other books so far have been moderate failures. This is due to the poor quality of the books, she believes.

She thinks to market Steven’s book she will emphasise the twist ending, since it is the part of the book that will hook people in. She develops a tagline for the book that she has put on the back of the book as the blurb:

“With a twist that will knock every reader off their feet. And a roommate that may not be as real as you think!”

That is all she has for the book’s blurb, since she doesn’t want to give much away.

Because of the small budget of the publishing house the marketing effort was small. They hoped that word of mouth would sell the book. Steven was quietly confident.

What Karen—oh, she was the chick at the publishing house, right—didn’t realise is that after seeing her blurb, everyone kept an eye on the roommate. Not only did this mean the were expecting the twist that eventually came, but because they were focused on the roommate so much they missed the whole point to the book.

Because no one was willing to tell their friends about an average book, Steven’s book flopped. He convinced himself that this was because his writing skills weren’t very good, gave up writing and took a job as a telemarketer. He was a very good telemarketer and eventually worked his way up and became the executive general manager of a call centre. At a conference for systems that can be used to increase productivity in call centres, Steven met Tracy, the love of his life. They married soon after, had some kids and lived a happy and fulfilling life, savouring every single moment.

FUCK!

I just realised that I only have one month to:
- Go for my green P's before my reds expire.
- Use the 2 free tickets I have for the harbour bridge climb before they expire.

I'm such a fuckup.

Good News

Sometimes people tell me exciting things, like their wife is pregnant. I always fuck up because I never know whether to get them a congratulatory card or slaughter a goat in their honour.

So many times I’ve done the wrong thing.

“Jobe, this is my wedding! You cannot give me a congratulatory card HERE. You’re supposed to sacrifice a goat like everyone else has. Haven’t you ever been to a wedding before?”

"Jobe, what are you doing? You can't slaughter a goat here! This is a retirement party! Just get the guy a card. Do you want to make the rest of us look cheap?"

No, I confess, wondering where I can quickly get a goat and a ceremonial blade.

Hello, Quizmania. Who’s this?

I hate coming home late, tired, and turning on the television to find nothing but fucking Quizmania is on.

It’s not what I want.

In the words of Holden Caulfield, “I just felt a bit depressed.”

Which raises an important point. If I grope a suicidal girl, have I just felt depressed?