Yea I don't really know if that's a word but it's got a lot more of a chance at being real, unlike Nathan Buckley's wholesale slaughter of the English language in his use of the newly discovered verb 'evolutionise'. It just goes to show that footballers should not be allowed anywhere near a word processor. They just end up disabling spell check with their ego based reality distortion fields and ruin everything. On the other hand, for some reason I don't mind Robert Murphy's column too much even if it really has next to nothing to do with football. It's certainly less objectionable than say, Grant Thomas' stint at The Age a couple of years back. Reading his column you'd never know he had a chip on his shoulder the entire time...
Well I've been so busy lately I haven't even had time to update my poor old blog, what with its multiple obscure references to Toto and the Backstreet Boys. I have to make an apology to my blog at this moment in time due to the fact that I, like all inconsiderate partners, have forgotten its birthday. As of last Monday, Say Something turned two years old and is now crawling along nicely while spewing all over my fine china and shattering my carpet into a thousand pieces. During this time I have covered a lot of ground, from work to uni and a hundred random YouTube videos in between. Hopefully I'll be able to keep doing so for a long time to come. I've come to treat this blog as an odd combination of a personal journal and poorly thought out joke depository, waiting for the day when I can look back at the old posts and wonder what the hell I was on and use some of said bad jokes for a sketch show starring Tandy as a break dancing Asian cricketer with an awful secret. I don't know what that secret is yet but that's how they write shows like 'Lost' or 'Today Tonight' - just make it up as you go along.
Too late to make a thoughtless gift for my beloved blog? I'd rather not bring down the mood on this post by talking about my stupid time consuming, life sapping studio so I'm going to give you something else. If you pay enough attention to this blog then well done, restraining orders will be in the post in the coming weeks. Otherwise you'd know I'm currently working on a paper on the architecture of virtual space, in particular computer games. It's a great way of combining the things that I love most and it certainly keeps me motivated enough to make me want to see it through. Have a read in your spare time, it's about 2000 words so it'll easily take a few moments of your time. Suggestions are more than welcome.
For some insane reason Google Docs won't allow me to publish PDFs via the web. Someone really needs to pay attention over there. So for now here's the text only version , I'm afraid you'll have to imagine the pretty pictures all by yourselves. Join me next time when I wander the premises after dark.
Before I begin my endless ranting for today, I just want to give a special thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday today. It means a lot that people care enough to take some time out to wish you well. A special shout out to my evil 'twin' Brad, sharing birthdays with Pompey, Nelson and MacGyver can't be all that bad. However the rest of you can go and get... yourself some ice cream, as you should use any excuse to have some. Smooth, eh?
Another year, another round of discovering new ways to waste an afternoon. Unfortunately this year I spent it catching up on assignments I should've been doing during the first week of midsems, but the way I see it there's no real point doing things early as the motivation just isn't there. Personally I blame card games for this... waiting until the last possible moment to play your hand doesn't always translate into real life.
The other day I was combing my fingers through my hair, (as I refuse to pay the bigwigs in the comb industry) when I noticed something kind of disturbing in the undergrowth. A speck of colour, something existing in stark contrast with the world around it. A rogue element that must be destroyed.
Yes, a white hair.
I guess it's still one hair in a million but it did really spook me out for a second or two. And for some reason it triggered a miniature quarter life crisis fuelled by some sort of question of my mortality. The first thing that came to mind was The Seven Signs of Aging by none other than the Ponds Institute. However, the actual seven signs are quite boring and are mostly related to skin quality. I have endevoured to create a replacement set of signs that cannot be masked by thirty-seven tonnes of makeup. Enjoy.
- Are you dead? (If 'yes', please proceed to Question 7)
As the legal definition of the term 'alive' comes under attack by the morbidly obese, freshly defrosted icemen (thanks, global warming!) and the undead Zombie Gardeners of Ivanhoe, this question will become more and more difficult to answer. - Have you still as active as you were five years ago?
Unfortunately that answer is a resounding 'no', damnit a couple of months ago I managed to strain my hamstring getting out of bed... in the region I prefer to refer to as the 'Shane Watsons'. Epic Fail. Too bad telling a doctor you pulled your Shane Watson sounds kinda weird and wrong. - Are you currently a client of the Shane Warne 'Yeah Yeah' Corporation?
Not just yet, but I have attempted to use a waffle iron to get rid of my singleton white hair. The problem still persists, but on the upside I now smell like maple syrup and rhubarb. Lovely. - Do you refer to phrases used by the generation below you to stay cool and 'with it'?
That mostly depends on whether netspeak is an invention of our generation or theirs. I have noticed that using the Mark Holden method of using old sporting phrases to create random punchlines seems to transcend generations, with Kyle Sandilands hijacking the catchcry for his own nefarious purposes. I hereby propose we use the 'free kick' signal used in the AFL to signify really bad moves on behalf of the greater populace. - Do you resent the spoiled youths of today and their rowdy rebellious ways which could easily be solved by a good caning?
Hmm not sure about this one. I remember being in high school and wondering out loud how the Year 7s could somehow manage to get progressively dumber and dumber with each passing year though. Must be something in the water, or else someone's been drinking that tainted Chinese baby milk powder for longer than they might think. - Are you a member of the Catholic Church clergy?
Last time I checked, the next in line to the Pope isn't exactly a spring chicken. Career advancement is a plotted in fairly linear single minded one really - Step One: Wait for current pope to depart, Step Two: Rig ballot and become Pope. The only other waiting line comparable in length is possibly membership to the Melbourne Cricket Club. - Are you Eddie Murphy's recording career?
Well that's hardly fair! If 'Party All The Time' can get airplay at my neighbour's daughter's 18th birthday, I would like to think that Murphy can party any time he wants. Just keep him away from anything remotely female.
Until next time, I'll leave you with the song that's been in my head for best part of the night. No, it's not 'Party All The Time', I'll save that for some other time. It's a track by End of Fashion, a band from Perth with 'Fussy'. The video itself is taken from the viewpoint of one person in a very sticky situation. The accompanying single 'Kamikaze' takes the same situation but from the perspective of the other person. Very weird stuff, but strangely watchable.
With an intro like that, I could host my very own radio show.