March 2008 Archives

Some people might be shocked by this, others might shrug their shoulders and say something like "ehh, knew that a long time ago... the way his head has the ability to rotate 360 degrees and his mad projectile vomiting skills kinda gave it away."

But none the less, according to my uncle, who would be well at home screaming about the pit fires of hell in a baptist chuch deep in Alabama (where I might add - it is still legal to have 'relations' with your sister), I have a demon.

My uncle, who believes that global warming is some kind of fabricated left wing extremist hoax, designed to cripple the economy and send us back to the stone age with dreadlocks and no soap. My uncle, who thinks that women shouldn't really work full time, but should stay home and 'submit' to their husbands. My uncle who thinks that women who have abortions are automatically destined to go to hell for their sins, and that the best way to talk to gay people is to tell them they are 'going to hell'. My uncle, the banjo playing yokel that travels the country in a bus and doesn't actually work for a living, instead bludging off my taxes...

So yeah, basically my uncle - the well thought out and balanced opinion forming man he is - thinks that I have a demon.

Did I kick a pregnant woman in the stomach? No.

Did I accidentally drop puppies into a deep dish of boiling oil? No.

Did I sleep with the pope? No... yes... wait. No.

I told him that i think Japan should stop whaling.

Not even on 'ecomentalist' grounds as he would say. I don't run around with picket signs saying "save the whales" and throwing paint at the Japanese embassy.

I don't even think that it is bad to eat whales... so long as it is done responsibly like all other . Realistically I oppose whaling on economic, scientific and animal cruelty grounds. Economically, there is more money in tourism rather than harvesting whales. Scientifically, I see no reason to kill whales to monitor their diet or migration patterns. Scientifically I don't see why they should want to target humpbacks either. And above all, I think it is cruel to slowly kill any animal with up to 30 minutes of stabbing and electocution. If they could kill the whale within 5 seconds like most other harvested animals, then I am ok with that so long as it is done responsibly. But the fact is there is no way to kill something that big humanely and quickly. And to be honest, those things look way better alive than dead.

So, I have a demon.

Can I get an AMEN? No? Yes? Bite me.

...today I drove to McDonalds, and the girl in drive through made a mistake with my change. She undercharged me by 5 cents! Suckka's... I totally beat the giant corporations. Oh yes, today is a good day.

Now, don't get me wrong... I have often found myself wandering through the female clothing department, looking at cool retro style sesame street tshirts and wondering 'why don't they make these for guys?' But tshirts is as far as it goes. For the most part, I only enter the female clothing department when my other half makes me. Dresses, jeans, skirts, party dresses, formal dresses, business attire, Hillary Clinton pant-suits... It is all too much for me.

Sure, like any guy I don't mind the occasional wander through the lingere section... but even then I feel torn between intrigue, a little bit of lust, and an all pervading feeling that I am one step away from being that creepy old man that stays a little too long in the plus size underwear section for no good reason.

But this time it was something different... I was out shopping with one of my mates and his girlfriend, which is not unusual. The only thing unusual is my mates dress sense. He obviously aspires to be like Corey Worthington, tool among tools, spanner among spanners.

Me being me, I had a little fun.

*Nate goes into changerooms*

*Will looks at sparkly girls tights next to changeroom door*

*Will grabs them - shows Nates g/f and throws them into the changeroom*

Nate - "What are these?"

Will - "I don't know... they are from the boys section though..."

Nate - "Are you serious?"

Will - "Yeah - they are a bit out there though... try them on"

Nate - "I don't think they go on... "

Will - "Try harder"

Nate - "Are you sure these are not girls pants"

Will - "Oh totally... try them"

Nate - "They are so tight they hurt"

Will - "Stop bitching and show us"

Nate - "You'd better not be filming this"

*Nate leaves changeroom in girls tights, and will and Liz proceed to take pics of Nate parading around the changeroom in sparkly blue girls tights.*

A new spin on meat and potatoes...

What do you think of those apples?

And the realisation sets in... girls pants!

To be honest, I think he loved it.

No, seriously... I went to a brothel last week.

For work no less. So, I guess you could say I got paid to go into a brothel... if you wanted to take it a step further you might even be able to stretch it and say that I was working in a brothel. Ha. Now, obviously I wasn't working in the way that you would normally 'work' in a brothel. But it is still funny to talk about.

Contrary to what I had been led to believe through my teenage years of sneaking peeks at friends dads magazines, and from what I learned through watching late night SBS television, the brothel was NOT full of scantily dressed cute girls wandering around with trays of cocktails. No lingere... no comfortable reclining couches... no big puffy cushions... nothing.

Instead we rang the bell, and the door was opened by a short, old fat woman who trudged up and down the hallway and I'm pretty sure I saw her I saw her scratching her backside Homer Simpson style. This was a dodgy place, the kind of place where old has-beens and never-beens with missing teeth hang out. Bad.

So I just thought I would let you all know, in case you were wondering where I have been spending my days.

Oh, and when making casual conversation with the madame at a brothel, please take it from me and avoid the following phrases.

"So, have things been busy?"

"You have had a heap of guys in here, hey?"

"Do you offer a bundle deal?"

"Is there a rack in here somewhere?"

Yeah... I kid you not, do not ask these questions in a brothel. No matter how much you are being paid to go inside... because no one wants to hear about the cleaning woman describing how she spends her day washing whore house bedsheets after... well, you know.