Jobe’s Stocking Stuffers – Item #3

HOLY SHIT IT’S A WALL-MOUNTED JOBE POSTER

Ideal for:

• Hanging on wall.
• Starting conversations. “Is that a wall-mounted Jobe poster?”

Even if you don’t have a wall you can get it and wrap it around you and IT BECOMES A WALL.

It has a million and one/roughly three uses!

The Final Countdown

If I ever had/wanted to kill someone I think I’d make it interesting. I’d concoct an amazingly intricate plan to kill the person that would take exactly 30 minutes to complete. The twist is that I’d take a poison that would take roughly 30 minutes to take effect and kill me.

Would I kill the person in time before I died? Or would I die first and let the person live? If I kill the person first I would still die from the poison. Which is good, because I don’t want to go to gaol for murder.

Fuck I could turn this into a multi-million dollar movie or something equally lucrative.

Oh yea, and it totally burnt off the pigmentation of the skin...

Lonely

Current Mood: Lonely

I just want to meet a girl who thinks she is "crazy".

So far my search (limited to Myspace) has yielded no results.

{{Skeleton ….well… Almost… Sighting}}

Where are the skeletons? I haven’t heard from them for a while?

Possible things the skeletons are up to:

• Plotting.
• Blogging?
• Can I get that without the dressing? Yea. Thanks. I’m just trying to just down what I eat…
• Harming those I care most about (Steph, Peter Boyle, etc) .
• Planning New Years parties.

Happy December 14

It’s National Hairy Guys in Shorts on the Train day!

Happy National Hairy Guys in Shorts on the Train day!

I hope you celebrated it well with loved ones.

{{The Count}}

14

{{DOUBLE}} FYI

That net session was pretty thorough.

Thorough = my new catch-all descriptor.

DOUBLE FYI

The Road to Raw

Like the door to a building that I wish to go inside of, I have entered the fuck out of Raw Comedy 2007.

Now we wait to see which heat I’m put it. Looks to be some time in February on a Monday night…

It’s All In The Words

Honey, I could never see you being fat with the way you eat.

Honey, I can never see you fat. With the way you eat…

Honey, delicious honey on toast.

The Road to Raw

Oh fuck…

Registrations are open…

{{It begins…}}





Also, I looked at my set. Compared to other Raw comedians from last year I have a higher joke per minute ratio. Compared to proper comedians I was either on par or, again, higher on the JPM scale.

They're not funny, but, you know. Yea. I mean, the Sydney heats are at fucking Moore Park. Moore Park is bloody annoying to get to. I'd rather stay home, really.

Maybe I shouldn't go in Raw.

This Is What It Sounds Like When Doves Cry

Lately I’ve been distressed.

(Why have you b....)

I’ve been distressed because I’m worried that people might hear the sound of doves crying at inappropriate times. What if a naïve young country guy is being stabbed in the arm on his first night in the city, roughly, when he hears doves crying? I’ve pretty sure that isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like when doves cry.

Or what if some chick is just washing up the dishes after dinner, not really doing anything particularly special. Maybe she’s using a new brand of washing liquid but that’s just coincidental.

I think we need to control the time when doves cry. Or at least set up a Senate inquiry.

The 5.30am Update

Hey, this isn't so bad.

Upon reflection, my post yesterday was just whining (But, Jobe... Isn't that your style?).

It was a bit dark when I got up though (Heeeere we go....).

Oh Fuck!

So I have to start work early for the next 3 or so weeks to Climb the Corporate Ladder (TM) and I just realised that I'll have to wake up at 5.30.

Fuck.

There are going to be a fuckload of tired ramblings coming soon...

A Proposal

The other week one of my friends proposed to his girlfriend (Shouts to Daz and K-Dogg). Instead of taking my advice of hiding the ring somewhere in Darling Harbour and pushing her in the water to find it (“Do you want to marry me or not, bitch?”), he did something boring and got on his knee or some played out shit.

But it got me thinking. Even though it’s normally hotbabes asking me to marry them, there may come a day when I wish to wed a hotbabe. So I made a bit of a list of what I can do to propose to a girl and amaze her. And I wrote it in the second-person format so it looks like a real self-help book.


Option 1 – Be My Ho

Pull up next to her car in traffic and unload 50 shots into the driver’s side door. After the window has been shot out, throw the wedding ring into the car and speed off. If she is still alive, she will look at the broken window glass near her feet and think about how lucky she is to be alive. Then, she will notice the sparkling diamond ring and think about how much she loves you. This is your chance to pop up at the shot out window and look at her lovingly.


Option 2 – Love, Love Me Do

You really want to marry your girlfriend but you’re really pissed off that she seems the type that listens to just the beat of the song and never the lyrics. But you’re not 100% sure. So this will be the final test. You’ll go to karaoke with her and sing her favourite song. But instead of singing the normal lyrics, you’ll sing your own lyrics that you wrote for the occasion that change the subject of the song from “let’s find a dark alley behind this club and have a brief sexual encounter” to “I really love you, will you marry mine? Also, we will have some sexual encounters.” If she notices the difference in the lyrics, it’s love.


Option 3 – 40 Love

In your younger years you decried people who live an active life. However, as you aged you became a massive hypocrite by falling in love with an athletic girl and doing the sort of active shit she wanted to do. For fucks sake man, you even went camping a few dozen times and added “the outdoors” to the hobbies section of your resume. SO since you have nothing of yourself left you’re going to ask your sporty girlfriend to marry you. You’ll do it at your weekly game of tennis. What you’re going to do is pay some dude to make a replica of a tennis ball made entirely out of glass. Inside this glass tennis ball you will put the ring. You’ll serve the ball to her and it will bounce up to her (you got the guy to make the glass ball so it can bounce once without breaking) as she goes to hit the ball it will spectacularly shatter, sending glass shards all over her. As you rush over to her to help remove glass from her face, you’ll point out the diamond ring embedded in the artery of her right arm. It’s probably best that you don’t remove it though as it is stopping a massive case of blood loss.

Jobe’s Stocking Stuffers – Item #2

Introducing the new…. CLIP ON WTOMH!

It’ exactly the same but SMALLER and it CLIPS ONTO YOU and you can TAKE IT ANYWHERE!

Ideal for people who enjoy:
- Clip-on shit.
- This blog.
- An active life.
- 80’s sitcoms.

Not recommended for people who:
- Get nervous when something is attached to their torso.
- Are bi-curious.
- Don’t celebrate Christmas and will get pissed off at you and your religious ignorance for purchasing them a gift.

A Bit of WTF Action

Normally I’m playing tennis at this point on a Monday evening. With nothing on I sort of feel strange.

What the fuck do I do?

All this free time…

Do You Believe In Fate?

Most of you weren’t around at the time, but last year there was an incident where I sort of met a girl, then found her blog, then found out she died. Her name was Rachael.

I checked her blog today and it turns out she’s actually alive again.

A Life in Books

I once dated a girl who loved books.

She was so totally and utterly consumed by them that it was too much for me.

Nothing felt real about her. Her pet dog was called Spot, her pet cat named Grimalkin.

She had few friends. As a child she hung around Oliver Twist, Pippi Longstocking and Harry Potter. Eventually she came of age and rolled with a different crew. Frodo Baggins, Holden Caulfield, Jay Gatsby.

Desperate for a hit of smack she sold her body to Fitzwilliam Darcy for $50. Once she had a lesbian affair with Lenina Crowe and, towards the end of her 20’s, aborted the unborn child that was the result of a one-night stand with Kilgore Trout.

It was a strange relationship.

Uh Oh

I think I’ve got an outbreak of Gamarra’s in my pants/heart.

Beating Beta

So Blogger has finally decided to offer me Blogger Beta.

I’m not happy with this. I neither need nor want this rubbish.