April 2006 Archives

Touchscreens suck. I'm sure there is no REAL way of proving it, but I am writing this post from inside a council building at Baulkham hills using a touchscreen computer that WAS meant to only access their website. HACK!!! Anyways, after checking my ebay account and leaving a long and tracable internet trail, tis time to bid you adeu from the foyer of Baulkham Hills shire council. Thanks BHSC for your hospitality.

EDIT>> I've added a colour adjusted pic to the site so you can see the Baulkham hills council machine with this site displayed. Yes, Lifeofsuch.com on the Baulkham Hills Shire Council touchscreen display.

Some of you may be asking why I was even IN the council building at 11pm on a Saturday night... Well, there was a 21st happening in a function room... and I had to leave that function room to avoid being caught up in a conga line led by a few... *Overly tipsy* people.

I will do a more comprehensive write-up about the party and especially some of that dancing at a later time. There WILL be a random quote...

"Don't be scared, its just the...................." I'll let YOU people come up with some suggested endings to that quote.

I went for my first jog today in over three and a half weeks. It was quite an achievement for me. It was a slow careful jog that might seem 'a small step' for you, but was 'a giant leap' for me. To understand it all, you need to put it in perspective. I have been unable to sprint, run, jog or even walk properly for three and a half weeks now. I tore some tissue in my knee playing the first 10 minutes of the 1st game of the grade soccer season. This ironically happened to also be April fools day, except this time, the joke is obviously on me.

While I am looking forward to returning to the field, I can't rush it for two reasons. Firstly, I am semi-crippled, and cannot rush anywhere, no matter how much I want to. Second, and more importantly, if the knee isn't strong again when I do play again, the chances of re-injuring even worse than before are massive. In fact, the muscles around the knee need to be STRONGER than they ever were before to compensate for the weakness in the scar tissue, because those damaged parts never fully recover 100%.

I was thinking how like life this can be. Speaking from personal experience, there was a time in my life when I fell so badly, that it cost me almost everything. It cost me my reputation in the community, my youth ministry, my positions within the church and within the music team, my friends, my mentors, my job... even my position in an indoor soccer team that I had started. The wound went deep, and there isn't a day when I dont feel the ache of things lost.

I don't think that the wound opened up by my mistakes will ever fully heal. The scar tissue will remain for life, and will often ache in the cold times. The scar will always be a little tender to the touch, and a little weaker than it used to be.

But other parts of my life have been made stronger through the experience. While the wounded part of my life heals slowly, and may never recover, other parts have been forced to become stronger. The roots of discipline in reading the word, and the tap-root of my faith have been forced deeper, into harder, but more stable ground, where the refreshing waters never cease to flow.

Sure, I will make many more mistakes in this life, and be left with many aching wounds, there's no escaping that. But with the right care, as the wound heals, my body grows stronger. As my character is forced through the fire, so it is purified as gold.

Some food for thought for any nursing lifes wounds... keep heart.

On Monday, we took the kids at the vacation care centre to play putt putt golf at Dural. Which, by the way, is surrounded by expensive houses, expensive cars, run by lovely Irish people, and happens to be just far enough away from the vacation care centre for me to get motion sickness on the bus.

There are two brothers that go to the centre, who have serious anger management issues. Fighting, hitting, and trying to drown each other in the sandpit is a daily occurance in their lives. Needless to say, they started fueding by the 2nd hole. By the time we reached the 3rd hole, there was serious mouthing off, accompanied by the threat of physical violence. (Note: I didn't threaten violence. They did. I never threaten, I just act.)

The 4th hole came, and I remember turning just in time to see the older brother bearing down on the younger brother swinging his solid metal putter through the air, and directly down at the younger sibling. The little one has speed on his side, and dodged the putter, which snapped once it hit the ground. Yes. A putter was snapped when one child attempted to hit his younger brother.

Broken metal stick in one hand, and the metal head of the putter in the other, he looked like a spent force... horror on his face. But rage soon took over, and about 2 seconds later he hid the head of the putter in his pocket, and charged through the gardens after his younger brother whipping the metal stick back and forth through the air. Needless to say I busted him. I didn't actually break him. But once I stopped giggling at the whole thing, I sent him to play golf with a 50 year old woman.

I am reminded in some way of a time a couple of years ago at church. There was a preacher called Kevin 'Mad Dog' Mudford, who was staying at the church for a few weeks. (Great guy - prison to pulpit story). He began his sermon by playing the movtivational speech and music from the movie 'Braveheart'. He also decided to dress up as a scott, with some sword, a big wig, some footy shorts and some other props. He also carried his almost full sized trademark cross to the front of the stage, and knelt there, being inspired by the music, and acting the part of a warrior.

Now, me being the youth pastor at the time, I had encouraged our youth to come along that Sunday morning to hear him speak about his life of crime, drugs and jail, and his transformation. I had expected them to be inspired, motivated, and touched by his message of restoration. What I didn't expect, was a testicle.

Nope. Didn't expect a testicle to fall out of Mad Dogs short shorts. Definately not. Especially not out the front of a full congregation of church-goers on a Sunday morning. Especially not infront of a row of teenage girls from youth. Definately unexpected. I didn't expect him to just stay there either. Dressed as a scott, kneeling and praying underneath a cross, listening to braveheart music with one nut swinging in the breeze. Yup. That was a Sunday special that I'll never forget.

I'm not sure how that story actually relates to the 2 brothers fighting. Maybe it relates to seeing something really bad and nasty, but finding it really funny at the same time. Maybe its to do with the braveheart music I'm listening to on repeat. Maybe I just really wanted to tell the world.

Be safe. And don't wear short shorts.

Today was the quarterly 'get the family together with Lou's mum and Lou's step dad Ken, and goodness knows who else from the family that emerges at these times of the year for the painfully slow family lunch. Sure, I'm actually an *unofficial* addition to the family, and not specifically required to attend... but YOU try refusing to ever see your girlfriends family and see how far you get. Seriously. Try it.

Last time we had a major family lunch things went horribly astray very early. From the time Ken arrived at the restaurant over an hour late with his Lou's mother and grandparents in tow we knew it was going to be a great day. Once he put a few bottles of wine away, he obviously lost his manners too, and after giggling at an unfortunate 'black stump coupon' incident, I was yelled at, told off, and told to 'curb that behaviour young man!' by an angry, red faced alcoholic non attractive Ken doll.

Needless to say, I was looking forward to this family lunch like root canal work. I've never had work done on my root canal, but I suspect if it is anything like being told to 'curb it' infront of a restaurant full of old people, then I shant expect to enjoy it very it much.

All things said, it wasn't too bad. Sure, Ken spent the afternoon repeating the phrase 'I've been teaching for 40 years, and I hate it, but stick in there, you might enjoy it'... His grace also included reference to Anzacs, freedom, some random biblical truth, and the people of Iraq. More like rhetoric than prayer. (a bible verse about a clanging cymbal comes to mind...)

I also got absolutely interrogated by an old woman with a handbag that was made from the same dark green and purple floral material of the gross couches. She claimed to be a grandmother of someone there, but Im not sure who because I wasnt paying attention. She spent a good 30 mins giving me the third degree on what constituted acceptable and unacceptable behaviour, and measuring me and my entire life against those standards in order to give approval to my relationship with Lou... who isn't even related to her.?

Lucky for me, my entire life consists of being born, being 6 pounds at birth, nearly being strangled by the umbilical cord, going to highschool and uni, and being involved in music and thats it. As far as she is concerned, I've never drunk, cheated, lied or even heaven forbid broken the speed limit.

After this she proceeded to give me HER life story about her growing up, her late husband who was very sick from the war, and about how it was honorable to never put people down... She then went on spend the next 10 minutes complaining about an old lady at her nursing homes who is obsessed with status, position and Mercedes Benz cars. She would even make the driver beep the horn as they came down the street so people would see her in the Merc. Old people can be so desperate sometimes. So so desperate.

Sure, all the oldies wanted to talk to me because I'm wrinkle free at the age of 25, and they all complained about the young drivers who speed and *change lanes quickly* (We all know there must be a special place in Hell for those lane changers) and bragged about their safe driving and how they have never ever ever ever never on your life broken the speed limit... but all in all, the day was ok. As my following checklist proves.

Physically Assaulted? - No
Verbally Assaulted? - No
Minimal Ken conversation time? - Yes
Food & Drink supplied? - Yes
Avoided kissing elderlies? - Yes
Rather be somewhere else? - Yes.

But you can win them all. Sometimes life is a sacrifice.

Deuteronomy 33:11 "Bless the ministry of the Levites, O Lord, and accept all the work of their hands. Hit their enemies where it hurts the most; strike down their foes so they never rise again."

The bible. Celebrating God kicking people in the nuts since 1451BC.

Ok. So I know what you are all thinking after reading the title of this post. But its not exactly what your dirty minds are thinking. Not quite at least.

I 'playing kicks' using a little footy with some kids at vacation care... basically, in realistic terms that means that I would kick the ball as high as I possibly could, and watch as the kids ran around with their heads looking directly into the sun, burning their precious retinas and knocking heads with one another. All I will say is that carers need their entertainment too.

Anyways, I actually looked at the ball... and had to do a double take. It looked like the company (mitre 10) had put an image of one massive sperm on the ball. I was a bit horrified. Obviously not horrified enough not to write about it... but definately horrified enough to wash my hands after playing with the kids. Gross. Anyways, I give you the 'sperm ball'.

Tonight me and Lou were up late watching an English documentary on the KGB and its supposed investigations into UFO's and other alien spacecraft. The following conversation is real, and un-altered.

Will - "Do you know who that guy is?"

Lou - "Thats Roger Moore..."

Will - "Oh, well done woodle... And do you know who he was?"

Lou - "Um... Inspector Morse?"

Will - **Silent blinking** "Um... No. He was James Bond."

Scene : Dad rumbling Gabrielle (my little 5 year old sister)

Gabby - Squealing with delight, squirming and trying to get away...

Dad - AHHH!!! Im going to eat you up... What a lovely tasting leg!! Yummm *munch munch*

Gabby - Noooo!!!

Me - I'll bring the tomato sauce!

Gabby - More squealing and giggling

Dad - I think im going to eat this nice juicy left leg!!! *Dad proceeds to munch away on left leg*

Gabby - DAD!!! YOUR EATING MY LEG WHERE MY RASH IS!!

Dad - *Starts coughing and spitting*

Will - *Walks away laughing his ass off*

This is a photo of 3 year old Devin Haskin inside one of those toy vending machines not uncommon in bowling alleys. Apparently he took it upon himself to grab a toy. Not with a coin and the moving metal claw mind you, oh no. Devin was too good for that. He climbed up the chute, and ended up stuck amongst the toys for a few hours until the fire department pulled open the door and set him free.

He is SO lucky that the fire department got there before someone like me noticed. I would have gladly spent my entire weeks wages, slotting in coin after coin, trying to grab the kids arm or leg with the claw... or, if I was feeling especially nasty, try beat him around the head with the claw. I would watch him cry and squirm each time the claw shook to life. I think a weeks wages is a fair price to see him crawl into the far corner amongst the stuffed tigers and lay down in the foetal position sucking his thumb. It would have been so worth it just to see the kid begin to develop a serious psychological complex about metal objects. And I bet that those fire department workers seriously thought about chipping in a few coins for a couple of rounds of 'claw Vs child'. Dont try telling me they wouldnt.

Go USA!!

It really IS possibly to loose your $1 coin 3 times in the sandpit in one day. It is also possible to walk with your underpants full of sand.

Having a boy slide down some rails and collide crotch first against your little 8 year old girl face in front of your mum and the whole playground isn't at all traumatising.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, I don't know what they did up there but they came down with a daughter" is a perfectly accepted nursery ryhme for children.

You really CAN threaten a child into being well behaved by threatening to cook them only carrots and brocolli for dinner...

In a nut shell, the Bible says that Job, a man of great wealth, prosperity and faith, was tormented by Satan in a test to see if he would rebuke God. This included the killing of family members, wives, children, animals (lots of animals), burning fields, etc. Think worse case scenario and that's what Job put through. Despite his torment and torture, Job still gave thanks to God. Satan lost the bet and had to wear a dress for a week (or something like that) while God turned to Job and made sure his life was blessed ten-fold for the remainder of his years.

From Airbag Industries

From News.com.au

"A NAKED man suffered burns to one-fifth of his body when he tried to set fire to a spider at a nudist resort in the New South Wales southern highlands. The 56-year-old Sydney man tried to kill what he thought was a funnel web spider by pouring petrol down the spider's burrow and igniting it with a match, the NRMA CareFlight service said.

The man's lack of clothing probably contributed to the extent of his burns, the rescue chopper service said."

As you well know... I really really really don't like spiders. But if there is something that I find more amusing than an aging overweight nudist, its an aging overweight nudist who manages to set his own ass and possibly his own groin on fire. In this case, I say GO SPIDER!!