The Begonners Guide to Pool

...with apologies to Alfie and Perry at The Beginners Guide, I've decided that my Guide to Pool at the UniBar just isn't enough! So here's The Begonners Guide to Pool.

Introduction
Pool was invented by people who wanted to invent a game you can play underwater. It was invented by an Englishman, Bill Yards. He drowned while giving it a trial run. The solution was either to make the balls buoyant, or bring them out of the water. The inventors opted for the latter. Bill Yards' brother, Frank, was also tragically killed by drowning, when he attempted to emulate his brother and transfer polo to the water. Thereafter, the horses were banned.

Cue
The people waiting for a game on Free Pool Day.

Break
What happens to glasses, chairs, heads, poles or doors when either Jenkinz or Bodie have the first shot of the game.

Balls
The first things to break when either Jenkinz or Bodie have the first shot.

Smalls
What one keeps their balls in.

Bigs
Pool-playing gangsters.

Rack
Raf's dad. Hence, Raf is known as "Rack Boy".

Cut
What Jenkinz would do to himself if Jason ever beat him.

Success
Pants.

Failure
Pants.

Black
Bodie's mood when he pockets the 8-ball too early.

Challenge
Bodie keeping the white on the table.

Snooker
Pool-speak for "fucked".

Sink
What happens to any player's chances of keeping their pants when they challenge Tate or Jenkinz.

Table
A place to keep the essentials of pool; chips & gravy, wedges, schnitzel, Coke...

Cushion
What Bodie and Jenkinz need if they don't drink Coke.

Chalk
Something to make the cue hit the ball better.

Cheese
Something to make the cue hit the ball worse.

Tonk
What we want to do to the collective heads of both ManWoman and Allan the Pseudo-Pool Guy.

Conclusion
Pool is a violent game. One spends all day smashing balls with a big stick. Depending on who you are playing, the balls aren't the only things at risk. Winning is relative; if you keep your pants, you have won. If you sink the black when you are supposed to, you've won. If you sink the black and take someone else's pants, you've won. If you play Jenkinz, you've already lost.

Senility and university...a lethal(ly boring) combination

During History: Europe, Empire & the World today, none of us could understand the Dumbledore-esque lecturer ("mumblemumblerhubarbgrumblespluttercoughHolyRomanEmpimumbleMYCURSOR'SGONE MAD!!mumblegroanchoke..."). Therefore we resolved to document our days...

Bodie's Day
Good Things:

• Kelly, EmT, Cait, Jo, Juan, Stevo, Andrew, Jenkinz, Ron, Alison, Rachel and just about everyone else I saw today
• Green Day and the John Butler Trio [edit: watch The Late Show with David Letterman tonight to see the John Butler Trio live!!!]
• Bodie and Jenkinz as a doubles pairing for pool

Bad Things:

• Parentals and their attitude towards driving
• Avril Lavigne
• Thinking and sleep deprivation
• Learner's Permit photograph

Kelly's Day
Good Things:

• People
• Being out
• Music

Bad Things:

• Everything else

Rachel's Day
Good Things:

• Getting books [edit: when Juan read this, he misread it as "getting boobs". But then, given his fixation with the kissing lesbians at the UniBar today, this isn't a surprise...]
• Eating toasties
• People

Bad Things:

• Boredom
• Lack of sleep
• Accidentally taking Old Man's car keys

Ahh, relevance...don't you just love it?

...and you asked me what I was thinking; I was thinking of a padded cell with a black and white tv to stop us from getting lonely

I don't really have anything to say, except MY FRIENDS ARE THE BEST ANYONE COULD EVER HOPE TO HAVE.
...looks like I won't need that black and white television.

RIP Paul Hester, 1959-2005

Sad news for everyone: former Split Enz and Crowded House drummer Paul Hester is dead. He was found hanged in a park over the Easter weekend.
As with most people, I never met Paul Hester. But he was one of my music heroes. His antics on stage during Crowded House concerts were almost as famous as the band itself. He was the one who always looked like he was having the most fun on stage or, in fact, anywhere. I remember watching him once, when I was younger, and thinking, "If I were a musician, I'd want to be like him." He brought so much to his music and to his fans.
Now, it has been said that he took his own life. However he died, Paul is still a great man. We should all remember him as he was in the film clip for Locked Out, one of Crowded House's best songs; there's Paul, running like a maniac with his drumsticks in hand, full of energy.

So long, my friend. Nothing matters in your private universe...

Sieg Heil to the President gasman ("hahaha, Witz", adds Billie-Joe...)

Greetings from...Adelaide. Not quite as great a locale as PORT ELLIOT!!!
Okay, to recap for those people who didn't hear me say it five million times: Port Elliot is so nice! Jo's family has a house at Horseshoe Bay, and great stuff there includes the beach and the sea (no wonder they call it a bay! Wow! I was wondering about that!), as well as rocks, a pier and a couple of playgrounds. Sounds mundane? I assure you it is not! Port Elliot is so the perfect place to unwind, and as Juan said, there is nothing more refreshing than sea air (and he didn't add "Witz" to that, which indicates he was not kidding!)

We all went climbing around the rocks, which was somewhat silly of me, given my pathological fear of falling. Even so, that was fun, especially at the end, when we all met up right on the sea and just talked for ages. Not even Raf's frequent (high-pitched) screams of "SHRINKAGE!!" could spoil the atmosphere. On the way to that particular spot, though, Raf and I (the tail-enders of the rock-climbing group...go figure) were attacked by annoying brats with slingshots. Were their parents not nearby, we would dearly have loved to show them why it is dangerous to play on rocks...but enough of that talk. It was a beautiful day, and one we all savoured.
Cait, Raf, Kel and I went off to the famed Port Elliot Bakery, which has THE BEST pies in the state, and later on, Cait and I went over to the pier, where we got to laugh at two girls who were trying to catch crabs (yes, I know how that sounds, but keep your minds above the belt for just a little while longer!). They dropped two red shopping baskets into the sea, then stared dumbfounded at them when they didn't sink. They finally had the bright idea of weighing each of them down with a rock. Next problem: how to catch the crabs. As they didn't seem to believe in using bait, the idea seemed to be that the crabs would oblige them by crawling into the baskets, safe and happy in the knowledge that they would be barbecued. Understandably, they didn't have much luck. The girls had two solutions.
SOLUTION 1: Use brownies as bait. This did not seem to work. I don't think crabs like chocolate at the best of times, but especially not when it is soggy, waterlogged and disintegrating...
SOLUTION 2: Use bread as bait. See above, but substitute "Tip Top" for "chocolate".
Cait and I grew tired of their inept stupidity. We left them to it.

Eventually, Jo, Jenkins, Mike and I went off to the Port Elliot Fish and Chip Shop to buy 19 people's worth of meals and fried Mars Bars. This proved impossible, as the shop was closed. We thusly drove Andrew's car to Victor Harbour, where we were given a discount by the people in the shop we finally went to, because they didn't have exactly what we wanted. Score!
We finally left Port Elliot at about midnight, with me getting a lift with Juan in his ultra-cool Astra.

Sunday was a pretty boring day. The only good part was when I was visited at home by the erudite journeying trio of Mike, Jo and Cait. They got the not-so-grand tour of our house, and my room, which is unfortunately a mess at the moment. Otherwise, Easter Sunday, except for the chocolate, would have been pretty poor.

Enjoy Monday, everyone!!

Mo Chuisle

On Saturday night Steph and I went to see Million-Dollar Baby at Greater Union Marion. Wow. Really, there's not much I could say about this film to do it justice. It is an absolute emotional masterpiece. I must confess, I was not expecting much; I don't put much stock in what the Academy says about any films, I assumed that Clint Eastwood would play his character with the same depth of most of his others (ie. with the emotional range of a teaspoon), and I really don't like boxing or American films about the dirt-poor nobody who makes it big in a world that seems unsuited for them--to me, they always make it waaaaay to soppy and unbelieveable.
First of all, Clint Eastwood, as Frankie Dunn, was simply excellent. Sure, he was grizzled and world-weary (what do you expect from Clint?), but underneath there was always an undercurrent of emotion, which is brought out in a masterful and almost gut-wrenchingly intense display towards the end of the movie. Hilary Swank, in her Oscar role, is entirely believeable as Maggie, the trailer-trash thirty-something who tries her heart out to be the best boxer in the world. Also good, in an understated way, is Morgan Freeman as 'Scrap' (or 'Old School' to the bastard boxer who...wait, won't tell you. Would spoil a great scene), who doubles as the narrator.
This is NOT your typical feel-good story. Bring a box of tissues with you; it is not often a film brings me close to tears, but this one had me very near crying. Steph did cry, which in itself is an incredible happenstance. It is a tour de force for Eastwood and Swank, who show the audience just why the Academy put such great weight on this film. It is well-written, superbly acted, and generally the best film I have seen in a very long time. Cinema at a very high standard of excellence.
The only bad part of the film was not actually a fault of the film, but of the film operator, who managed to bugger up the screening in one of the most important and emotive scenes. Maybe I should thank him; had my viewing not been interrupted, I may well have shed a tear. Nonetheless, boo to Greater Union; I wasn't expecting to be refunded for my ticket due to that incident, but surely they could have had someone at the door at the conclusion of the movie, to apologise for the inconvenience of not being able to watch the whole thing uninterrupted.

After this emotionally-exhausting foray into cinema, Stephanie and I sojourned to Glenelg to partake of McDonalds, and thence to Jason O'Conal's, where we made the acquaintance of Jason's church friends, who were...drunk, and driving. How very Christian of them. Stevo got cracked in the groin by Ron (or rather, an Easter egg hurled by Ron), and Sally was busy showing off her cool new shoes.
On the way back from Jason's, Steph and I entered Port Adelaide. Not knowing where we were, Steph commented: "We're really in the stix now. Look, a palm tree!" How true, how very true...

Today, a great number of us are journeying to the outer reaches of that place known as Port Elliot, in order to check out Jo's beach house and do other stuff. Ahh, Easter...

All I got here is books and music

...and really, what else do you need but good books and good music? I'm quite content with that...
It's barely Good Friday at the moment (although the "good" prefix remains to be qualified). So I suppose now is a good time to wish everyone a safe and happy Easter holiday. Go forth and eat copious amounts of chocolate! I know I will...

I am currently working out how to budget for the forthcoming weeks. Tis very difficult. Besides, I need to buy stuff!! Why do finances have to be so hard?!

I leave you this morning with the Word of the Month for March 2005.
This came from Stephanie, with the collaboration of Padster on Wednesday, 23 March (I believe, although it may have been Tuesday. Oh well...)

exctiement (X-tI-meh-nt) (n.): 1. the act of removing a tie or cravatte. 2. the emotional state required to appreciate the relaunch of The Show-off Must Go On. Other spelling: extiement. See also: ecstasy, euphoria, joy.

Have a jolly good Easter, and keep those pants successful!

Kermit the Frog here with another fast-breaking news story!

All you fans of The Show-off Must Go On, over at www.theshow-offmustgoon.blogspot.com, of whom I am most certainly one, will no doubt be as pleased as I am about some earth-shatteringly cool news. That's right! On Monday, 28 March 2005, Stephanie is relaunching her ultra-fantastic blog! Featuring a new look, new cast, new exotic settings and frequent Spike references, Show-off is the place to go to get your fill of Steph's dry wit and occasional rants! Huzzah!

...and according to someone on my tagboard called Boof, they have a Stobie pole in their pants. I imagine having a few hundred kilograms of concrete, metal and electrical circuitry wedged so close to one's genitalia would have a few unfortunate consequences, hence the name "Boof", I believe...one of the few sounds said person can make without said Stobie pole relocating itself to more sensitive regions...

Now it almost seems impossible...

I have just found out about the latest shootings in the United States. A teenage student by the name of Jeff Weise shot dead students at his school, as well as his grandparents, before in turn shooting himself. This monstrous incident is not without precedent, but it should rank along with Columbine and, most notably, Beslan, as something we should all as one rise up and condemn. Even if the perpetrator can no longer be condemned, as he is also dead.
Why is it school-related tragedies hit home so hard? Is it because I am a student, that I can imagine myself in the shoes of a victim? Certainly, the horror of Beslan affected me far worse than I'd care to admit. Maybe it was the idea that it could have been me...
...but could it? Surely not.

Here's to a safe Adelaide. May it continue to be so.

I may be wrong,
But I thought we said
"It couldn't happen here"...
-Neil Tennant, "It Couldn't Happen Here"

Important dates

Here are some important upcoming dates for everyone to remember. This is not a complete list, though:

21 March 2005: Bodie Got His Licence Day
22 March 2005: International Kelly Appreciation Day
25 March 2005: Good Friday
1 April 2005: Not So Good Friday
4 April 2005: Universal Emo Day
7 April 2005: Alison Holiday
15 April 2005: Equality For Jo Day
22 April 2005: Mediocre Friday
1 May 2005: International Day of Socialism/World ABP Day
2 May 2005: Caitsgiving
7 July 2005: International PatFute Day
17-23 July 2005: Stevo Awareness Week
23 August 2005: Don't Mess With Phil Day
1 September 2005: International Fantasticness Day
16 November 2005: EmT Cup Day
19 November 2005: Ameliakkah
10 December 2005: Stephsuntide
20 December 2005: United Nations Jacob Remembrance Day
30 December 2005: Indifferent Friday

Keep these dates open, and don't forget them!

I could be rich like a wandering gypsy, I could be poor like a fat wallet lost

*Someone* will soon be driving. Yes, today I finally went into Department of Motor Reg and got my Learner's Permit. Scary thought, huh? People complain about Jo's driving, but I'm quite certain I'll be a notable student on the Honour Roll of Really Bad Adelaide Drivers. (I have no idea why or how, but I almost wrote "Honour Roll of Really Bad Adelaide Fridges" then...hmmm...)

Jo's new car, a manual, is proving to be a challenge for her. This was shown to good effect when she managed to stall it at the intersection of Pulteney Street and Rundle Street. Not once. Not twice. Not even thrice. But four times!! And she did it yesterday, when all the Clipsal 500 revheads (note: "rev" is a synonym for "dick") were standing around laughing at her misfortune. Not content with that, she did it again a few times in the CBD, including once, followed by a nice bunny-hop, on Hutt Street. Some Holden fan (note: "Holden fan" is a synonym for "moron") waiting at the bus stop laughed loudly and said something like "Well done, luv!" Stevo and I weren't really in the mood to have Joanna ridiculed (well...at least not in public), so Wanker...I mean, Holden fan...was told to "Shut up" and "Piss off" by Stevo and I respectively. The fact that this evidently knowledgeable denizen of manual gearshift motoring was waiting for a bus did not escape me. It's my belief that his pride-and-joy manual VH Commodore is in the shop at the moment, being repaired after he bunny-hopped it into a Stobie pole. Or maybe he was living under the assumption that there are Mark Skaife-driven Holden buses in Adelaide. Either way, he gets into our list of people we would throw rotten tomatoes at if we ever saw him again.
We also got to see Jason yesterday. He is now the inventor of two fantastic new things. One is the WE WANT TO F**K JUAN CLUB, which involves people walking around chanting about how they want to...erm...copulate with Juan. There are apparently posters...
The second is the USB Vagina. This is a meaningless contraption which plugs into one's USB port and has an LED light which blinks on and off when the USB Vagina is in ORGASM MODE. Despite its lack of a raison d'être, the USB Vagina is likely to be a smash-hit and fly off the shelves because, as Jason himself says, "Everyone wants to get their hands on a vagina!"
[note: Mr Lane, can anything blow up space?? is in no way affiliated with O'Conal Computer Genitalia Inc.]

Today was university. My tute was bloody boring. Yay.
But, on the upside, Kel came in on her day off to visit, and we also had the good fortune to see Cait and Steph, who materialised to complain about the music and throw stuff at Jenkins' crotch. Much fun was had by all. Well...maybe not Jenkins...
Time to do Germanising.

I'd find myself if I knew where myself left me

If one were permitted to rename days, Saturday 19 March 2005 would be Mehday, because it can be characterised simply by...well, meh. I shan't tell you all why I'm not in a good mood, because I really don't want to go into it, and I'm still a little tetchy about revealing private thoughts and concerns on a public forum. Ah well...

On Saturday morning I woke at 8, which is quite amazing for me on a weekend, and went down to Adelaide Sailing Club, where I borrowed a Saints Pacer and went for a spin on the water. My two crew (both Year 7s...bloody JS said I could only take one of the school boats if I were training Saints crews in the process) were useless. The boat tilts. SCREAM!!! A small wave washes about 20ml of seawater into the cockpit. SCREAM!!! The boat turns slightly. SCREAM!!!
...are we seeing a trend here?
I gave one the tiller and told him to head for shore. The following occurred.
Annoying Year 7: Oh my God, what do I do, what do I do??
Me: Just steer straight. The harbour is dead ahead.
Annoying Year 7: How do I do that??? Oh God, we're gonna capsize, aren't we?
Me: Hold the tiller straight and we will go straight. And no, we won't capsize unless I decide we will.
Annoying Year 7: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!
Suitably unimpressed, I let the other Year 7 take the helm. He was worse. He headed straight for the BLOODY HUGE BREAKWATERS bordering the harbour, because "it's easier to turn when you get close." Evidently he's never heard of wind direction, wind shadow or tidal drift...
Exasperated, I took the tiller back and dropped the annoying Year 7s back on shore, whereupon I promptly went out on the water again by myself. First time I've ever solo-skippered a Pacer (usually crewed by about 3 people). Pfft, easy.

Nothing much more happened today. I fell semi-asleep. I woke up. I cleaned my desk. I had dinner and felt sick. I chatted with Caitlin and Kelly and Courtney and Jo. That last point is a highlight; even if we don't say too much, catching up with everyone, albeit over MSN, is still good. And besides...CAITLIN!! KELLY!! COURTNEY!! JO!! Need I say more?!
...if you said 'yes', tough. I'm going to bed.

This is where we came in.

Tonight was the last indoor soccer game of the current season, and also the return from semi-retirement of Ron, who came out to Stepney to don the keeping gloves once more and go diving around in his semi-circle.
The team we were playing against beat us 8-2 the last time we played them. That time, we didn't have a proper keeper and we only had 5 players. This meant that Patrick and I took turns keeping, and everyone played a whole game. Tiring, to say the least.
This week, our team consisted of Patrick, Ron, Kadds, Sarah, Stevo, Maz, Alex Horner and I. Additionally, anyone who's ever seen Ron keep knows that he is frigging awesome.
By the end of the game one of their players had been injured (by me, sad to say...I have the inertia of an aircraft carrier; I don't stop on a five cent coin), Sarah had bagged four goals, Patrick two, and we came away with a 6-4 win. A good way to finish the season.
Unfortunately, Ron got slapped with a parking ticket.

Earlier in the day, at university, I began the morning with my History tutorial, taken by the delightfully-named Jude van Konkelenberg. There is a guy in my tute, whose name escapes me, who just irritates me with his stupidity, and he also has this annoying bogan voice with an upwards lilt, like he finishes every sentence with a question. He introduced himself with "awww, I've pulled a few beeeeeeers in my time. When I fin'shed school I buggered about for a bit, doing lotsa stuff, and I'm doin' History cos...it's not booooring?" He's as thick as a post, and today was no different than usual. Jude wanted us to talk about the changing emphasis of education over the past centuries. Our friend the beeeeeeeeeeeeer-puller came up with this academic gem:

"Like, in the past and stuff, there...like, wasn't education. Yeah, there was, like, education, but not education. It had stuff, like they taught stuff in schools and stuff, but yeah. It wasn't important, like yeah?"

My kingdom for a History tutorial ejector seat, right underneath him...
I also had a History lecture today, and later, an International Politics tutorial with Patrick Tree. Today, Bill Oddie-clone presented his tutorial oral on realism and liberalism. He arrived in a beree and scarf, as well as sunglasses. It was like he'd stepped out of a potrait of one of those modern poets.

My pool game attracted the attention of a security guard later on in the UniBar, who commented that "That shot had more arse than a bus full of fat chicks." Full marks for innovation, none for political correctness. Then again, as the patron saint of Scotland (Billy Connolly) says, "Political correctness is the language of cowardice." Female readers of this blog may disagree, though...

...oh, and Juan? Ich ging Einkaufen. Hahaha....Witz!

God is a pool-playing uni student

...at least if you listen to Juan.
Allow me to explain: Juan is currently the Rising Star of the UniBar pool circuit, as Raf does not fail to point out. He plays a pretty tight game, and he's very hard to play against, because he is good. Now, imagine if someone (say...me) came along and sank all balls without him getting one in, thereby getting him pantsed. Would you feel pretty crap about that?
Not Juan. True, he got a pantsing, but he decided that I am a pool god. No, I'm not making this up. He even called me "God". Poor misguided child...
Incidentally, my game against Juan was the only one I won all day (what an odd sentence: Juan...one...won). I was pretty stoked with that.

Today's installment of The Blowing Up Space Guide To Pool focuses on the two Andrews, who are like the Two Ronnies, if the Two Ronnies played pool, studied Computer Science and went to Adelaide Uni.

Andrew Stevenson
(aka Stevo)
Stevo thinks he's crap. We think he's hiding his light under a bushell, whatever that means. When this self-deprecating engineering student grabs the cue, watch out; despite his protests to the contrary, he usually comes up with some pretty cool shots. He is perhaps best known for his 1 Rand coin that he uses to place a challenge. Tate likes Stevo. This alone makes him cool.
Signature shot: Anything prefaced with or followed by the phrases/words "wow", "I am so bad" or "I'm going to kill myself".
A typical game sounds like:
*Stevo hits the ball. Something happens. It might be good, bad or indifferent.*
Stevo: "Wow. I'm so crap, I'm gonna kill myself."
*Stevo wins the game, and reconsiders suicide. Buys wedges instead.*

Andrew Tieu
(aka Rich Boy)
Andrew has a wicked car. He also plays pool. As a pool player he is very good. He has beaten Jenkins on occasion. Not much is known about Andrew, because he hardly ever speaks when he's playing. Nor, for that matter, when he's not. He's not quite as mad for Maccas as Jenkins; indeed, he's once been seen with a Red Rooster bag.
Signature shot: Um...something. Andrew is so quiet, the fact that he is playing is often ignored, not deliberately, but because he never told anyone. When you don't know someone is playing, it's hard to watch their game. When you don't watch their game, you don't see spiffy stuff they do.
A typical game sounds like:
*Silence.*
Jenkins: "Hey, look! Andrew won."

Can we spell 'cliché'?

We went to see Spanglish at the cinema on Tuesday night...for detailed analysis, see the title of this blog entry. That's really all I have to say on the matter, except that the curly-haired girl and the grandmother were the only good characters in the entire thing.

As many of you may be unfamiliar with the world of the UniBar pool players, I've decided to introduce them in blocks. Today, we shall see four in particular...

THE BLOWING UP SPACE GUIDE TO POOL
(ABRIDGED FOR BLOG READERS)

Michael Jenkins
(aka Jekniz, Rodney, Red, Blue)
Taking on Jenkins is probably not the smartest move you could make if you want to win a pool game. Rodney just takes shots, not really aiming particularly hard, but getting everything in even so. When he's having a bad day he's very difficult to beat; when he's tanked up on Coke or Scotch it's damn near impossible.
Signature shot: Single-handed, with a 600ml bottle of Coke resting in one of the pockets.
A typical game sounds like this:
Jenkins: "Shoot. Now. Don't aim, just shoot."
*Opposition takes shot. Jenkins takes shot. And another. And another. All balls are in within the space of 15 seconds, while Jenkins is eating chips and gravy*
Jenkins: "Wicked end of game nice game goodbye."

Tate
(aka...um...Tate)
Tate and Jenkins are about the same in terms of skills, and Tate is often in fine form, as Raf can attest to. On a particular occasion, Tate got Jenkins into a potential pantsing situation. On another, Jenkins did the same. The first time, Jenkins was almost terminally ill. The second, Tate's arm had fallen off. These are the only times either player has been close to losing their jeans/shorts/slacks/kilt. Tate can most often be heard whinging about Avril Lavigne, 15 year old fans of Green Day and Allan the annoying pseudo-pool guy.
Signature shot: Anything that finishes the game without the opposition putting any balls in.
A typical game sounds like:
*Tate shoots. Everything goes in*
Raf: "Ah well, pants-off time. Old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be..."

Raphael Jose
(aka Raf, Flash)
Raf is the type of player who turns up and plays, sometimes winning, sometimes not. Yeah, that's insightful, but Raf is also famed for wearing a trucker's hat, placing a lucky rock on the table, and loosening his belt whenever he plays Tate.
Signature shot: "The Raf Shot", a shot which defies all laws of common sense and does not do anything of any use.
A typical game sounds like:
[See "Tate"]

Bodie Ashton
(aka What the Fuck Was That?!)
Bodie didn't do well at IB Physics SL. This explains why most of his shots defy the laws of gravity, momentum, friction and temporal and quantum theory. This isn't always to his benefit. Sometimes has a blinder of a game (nicknamed "The Streak"). Also just as likely to screw everything up.
Signature shot: Anything that results in one or more balls flying off the table and hitting a door/table/chair/person.
A typical game sounds like:
*Bodie shoots. White is pocketed.*
Bodie: "Hell!"
*Bodie shoots. White is pocketed.*
Bodie: "Hell!"
*Bodie shoots. White ball misses every other ball on the table except for the only ball it would never be able to hit. That ball is pocketed.*
Bodie: "What the Hell?!"

Stay tuned for part 2, if you feel like reading...

Quotable quotes

Two quotes from two very cool people.
The first is from Andrew Tieu. He was assisting Caitlin in her chess game against Stephanie at Steph's party, using the brand-new Buffy The Vampire Slayer chess set.
Explaining a move:

"So then you're basically saying, 'you can take my Willow', you know. 'You can take my Willow'. Not my willy. My Willow."

The second comes from Phil. He was at Jacob's 18th on Saturday night, and he jumped into the pool, only to discover it was a little chilly.

"Oh no, I'm going to get haemmorhoids. Wait...pneumonia."

On the subject of Jacobob, he turned 18 on Saturday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JACOB, AND BEST WISHES. His party was cool, but I'm not going to write about it right now. I will later.

Oh, and mood = goooooooooooooood.

Goodnight, everyone!

Tete-a-tete with the Drama Queen

Friday night saw us all go to Steph's for her 18th birthday party. The night was great fun; as usual, it was great to see everyone, and have a chance to catch up and chat and so on. Emo appeared! This was somewhat unexpected, as I had previously hypothesised that a giant hole had swallowed her from this existence. Nice to see you're still alive, Emo!

Ron was completely pissed, which was vaguely funny, but we were close to shoving his camera up his nose, and wrapping the pool cue across his head.
I can't say with any authority I was the most charming party guest present, unfortunately. For some peculiar reason, I was struck down by an extreme case of unco-ness, which meant that not only was a pizza covered in a raspberry Vodka Cruiser by the end of the night, but I managed to obliterate the chair that Annabel was sitting on, simply by brushing past it. I was also attacked by flying cream from the cake, which I attributed to Jo, so I got her back...only to later find out that it was actually Emo. Jo is again pissed off with me...I don't seem to stay on her good side for very long. This bothers me; through Jo, I know all of the Mercedes people, so I certainly owe her a debt of gratitude in that respect, but also, simply by herself, Jo is one of the best friends I have ever had, and even if/when we have a disagreement over the stupidest things (eg. airborne cream), it worries me that we have a disagreement in the first place. All of the Mercedes people, but in one sense especially Jo, are so important to me. I don't like it when something's wrong. If that all makes sense, yay me.

...but enough of dwelling. Steph's party was great, and yet again I wish Steph a wonderful birthday period. I hope her 18th has been all she wanted it to be.

Steph and I have begun an incomplete and non-comprehensive list for scholastic inquiry. Its title:

THINGS MARX NEVER CALLED ENGELS

1. Biatch
2. Dude
3. Crotchfire
4. You Star Trek nerd, you
5. Rotter
6. Mr Short Pants
7. Russian Slut Goddess

This list will be continued, before being released as a book and, eventually, a film, starring Stephanie Osborn as Karl Marx, Bodie Ashton as Friedrich Engels and Gerard Depardieau as Random Frenchman.

In other news, the university flooded on Friday. I got my hair coloured. We played indoor soccer and lost 11-5, and I managed to reopen the wound on my elbow. And that's about it.
This is Bodie Ashton of the BBC Home Service, signing off.

Unwanted redecorating

WHY are all of my posts now so low down the page?! Whose RETARDED, ANNOYING, STUPID idea was that?! Damn you Sweden!

[edit: it seems to be quite fine when using Mozilla Firefox, so it's a Microsoft IE problem...why am I not surprised??]

There is a place where people go...and it is worth its weight in gold...

Actually, there are a great many places people go. But this is Volume 2 of Bodie's Gratuitous Advertising Blogologue, honouring people who also have blogs that are worth reading...this is owing to the fact that I have NO IDEA how to insert links in the sidebar. Maybe I shall discover this neat trick one day...

• These days our very own Kelly can be found at www.myworldofnonsense.blogspot.com, and I am hoping that she has recovered from the insult of being called a potato. Ah well, we all love Kel, and she's an adept hand at making up words that just sound like they are real, but are not. She may be a contender for the Word of the Month here, but we're waiting for something earth-shatteringly original...
• www.raffyboi.norcoland.com is the internet home of Raf, who has jazzed it up somewhat since I was last there...the walk-in wardrobe, ensuite facilities and indoor pool really make his blog look spiffy. Seriously, though, the colour scheme is nice, and the animations at the top keep one transfixed, against one's will. For all of you who are addicted to being called "dudes and dudettes", this is the place for you.
• EmT has just worked out how to use Hello on her blog, so she is now one-up over me. Hers is at www.throughamaranthineeyes.blogspot.com, and it's worth a read. Her brother goes to PAC. This makes him my traditional enemy. Bloodshed ensues. But the blog is cool.
• Emo's blog at www.embo2004.blogspot.com is entitled "HAOMIES"...if this makes sense to anyone, please write in and tell me, in 250 words or less. Entries will be drawn at midnight on 20 March, and the first drawn correct entry will win a sports car. Despite incomprehensibility, you should all go take a look-see. Emo's cut off from the civilised world since she doesn't attend Adelaide Uni. Be nice to her, and check it out.

Wow. Advertising. Welcome to the capitalist consumerism that is blogging.

Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum 18. Geburtstag von Steph!

Less than an hour ago, Stephanie turned 18. She joins the ranks. I'm sure everyone will join me in wishing Steph a...

GREAT BIRTHDAY AND MANY HAPPY RETURNS

(in enormous writing, too!)

Wow, she's 18 now...welcome to "adulthood".

JOIN THE CAMPAIGN

I am outraged! Absolutely so!

I have been made aware of a quote on the blog of someone Kelly calls "JAmes" (yes, with the 'A'...maybe he doesn't understand English grammatical rules either).
To quote:

"Kelly is also my Wednesday friend but she is getting old like an old potato left under the fridge that turns purple and grows roots."

This is why I am launching the official Be Irate At JAmes campaign, because for those of you who know Kel, I'm sure you agree that she is nothing like a potato. For those who don't know her, here's the authorised rebuttal to JAmes' statement:

"Kelly is never old. She is vibrant and fun to be around, no matter when you're with her. This is why Kelly is a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday friend."

So join the cause, people! We're out to prove that JAmes should be renamed "Brian", so then we can waggle our fingers and say that he is NOT the Messiah, he's just a very naughty boy. And no, I refuse to change the 'r' to an 'R'...

Rally times/locations:

Wednesday, University of Adelaide UniBar, 12:00-13:00

Thursday, University of Adelaide UniBar, 12:00-15:00

Friday, University of Adelaide UniBar, 12:00-14:00

...with further times to be advised.

A chance is made, a chance is lost, I carry myself to the edge of the Earth

Yes, there is university today, but screw the lecture. I'm sick. I will be there for the tute, though. And since Caitlin and Stephanie will be visiting, as they have a habit of doing, I should be there earlier than the beginning of my tutorial.

*achoo!*

Sally sent me a questionaire to do today, all about "getting to know your friends". Most of my readers here (whoa, that's assuming I have any) will have already received a copy of this, but meh, since I'm none too creative tonight, here are the questions and my answers in their full glory! If you didn't think you already knew enough about me before this morning, you will soon be wishing I kept to myself more often! :)

1. What time did you get up this morning? Morning? What the hell is that?

2. Diamonds or pearls? Neither nor. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a diamonds or pearls girl, for the simple reason that I'm a guy. Sterling silver, though...

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Constantine. Despite the fact that Keanu Reeves cannot act, this was an enjoyable film, and I do like the long black coat/white shirt/not-done-up black tie look. If we can't give K.R. an acting award, he can get one for a decent dress sense. If you haven't seen Constantine yet, there is a deadly serious moment that will just make you laugh (as happened with Steph, Kel, Caitlin and I when we went to see it...Steph got some pretty dirty looks, but she didn't anger Buddha this time...)

4. What is your favourite TV show at the moment? CSI:Miami, because I can laugh at David Caruso and his elfness. He has also taken dialogue training from Keanu Reeves, which means. That. He. Can't. Speak. A. Whole. Sentence. Without. Breaking. It. Up. Word. By. Word. I would've said Foyle's War, because Michael Kitchen is just such a brilliant actor, but sadly that finished last Sunday. Oh well.

5. What did you have for breakfast? Since I wasn't conscious for breakfast, I'll count this as what I first ate. Thus, I had a beef stroganoff pie from the bakery down the street, as well as a Coke. This has kept me alive thus far.

6. What is your middle name? Alexander. All similarity with the Persian conqueror ends there, unless you want to call me "Great"...no? Didn't think so.

7. What is your favourite cuisine? Um....it depends on mood/time. At the moment, nothing involving food, as I cannot swallow. The pie was difficult enough.

8. What do you dislike? Liquorice and stupidity. There's quite a correlation there, I know.

9. What is your favourite crisp flavour? Haven't had crisps in a while. But those honey soy ones that Sally really likes are niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. [edit: Sally insists this indicates she has absolutely brilliant taste in everything. I value my life, therefore I am definitely not disagreeing with her.]

10. What is your favourite CD at the moment? Hard to say. I jump from thing to thing. Depeche Mode Remixes 81-04 is getting quite a bit of airtime, as is Hot Fuss by the Killers. [edit: another CD has been played at pain level all night. "Jacqueline was seventeen, working on a desk..."]

11. What kind of car do you drive? I don't drive. When I learn to drive, I'm told that I'm allowed to use mum's 1996 BMW 318is.

12. Favourite sandwich? There's a really nice turkey, cream cheese, sweet chilli and lettuce toasted foccacia up in Rumours Cafe at Adelaide Uni which I love. Besides that, a toasted Turkish bread roast beef sandwich from Club Sandwich in the Myer Centre.

13. What characteristic do you despise? Complete and utter stupidity. And also, those people who, when you point out that maybe they're being a bit abraisive, go all pouty and say "Um, excuse me! No, that's you!" ...yes, that only applies to one person I know. If you are reading this blog, then it is a very safe bet that you are not this person.

14. Favourite item of clothing? My Bayern Munich official team top, with Michael Ballack's name and playing number on the back.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Europe. Particularly Germany or the Czech Republic.

16. What colour is your bathroom? That depends on when dad finishes working on the bathroom. At the moment, it's looking rather...dusty.

17. Favourite brand of clothing? Nautica. But as Jo has pointed out, they can't seem to tell the difference between jeans and t-shirts.

18. Where would you retire to? Adelaide CBD. Adelaide's fairly small, not too busy...nice for retirement. And everything's here that you need.

19. Favourite time of the day? Night. It's when cool stuff happens.

20. What was your most memorable birthday? I've never been one for having parties, and so I've not had any memorable ones at all.

21. Where were you born? Adelaide, SA.

22. Favourite sport to watch? Soccer...the World Game.

25. What fabric detergent do you use? Fabric detergent? I don't even know where the washing machine is.

26. Coke or Pepsi? Always Coca-Cola! YEAH! (do-do-do-do-do. do-do-do-do-do!!)

27. Are you a morning person or a night? Night. If I am awake in the morning, it would be well to avoid me.

28. What is your shoe size? 14.5.

29. Do you have any pets? Two cats (Tosca and Lille; if they were human, Lille would be an acrobat and Tosca a truck driver), a dog (Quella, who is thick as a post and loves to run headlong into anything), and a bird that I don't like.

30. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with your family and friends? University. It has begun. Fear it.

31. What did you want to be when you were little? Little is a looooooooooooooooong time ago. Um...let's see...when I was like 5, I was obsessed with Thunderbirds, and I wanted to be the pilot of Thunderbird 2. After that, when I first saw Inspector Morse, I wanted to be a detective. I didn't actually decide what I now want to be until part-way through Year 12. Go organisation!

No potatoes were harmed in the making of this blog entry. Their eventual fate, however, remains a mystery.

Saturday was a most tiring and painful, yet rewarding, day. I began by regaining consciousness before midday, feeling rather like Ali's Brighton-Adelaide train had hit me sometime during the night. On closer inspection of my face, I realised that I looked similar to how I felt. A shower did not really remedy this. Blasted cold-flu-hayfever thingo.
After dressing, I braved public transport in order to get to the city. I was rather chastened to be seen by EmT while I was at the bus stop. This is not because I do not like seeing EmT; on the contrary, it's always wonderful to see any of my friends. This time, though, I was more or less slumped over the bus timetable section of the stop, with a five o'clock shadow and bleary eyes suggesting I had had a night out on the turps, that had turned into a morning out on the turps. As I later wrote in a message to EmT, "I am in dire need of a shave and some coffee."

I met up with Caitlin in town, apparently saving her from the attention of someone who, just like Kel's 'bus boy', had fallen in love with her in the space of 9.12 seconds. We attempted to shop for Jo's birthday presents, without much success until after lunching at KFC in Rundle Mall, again saying hello to Natasha, who served us when Slut and her sugar daddy came in after we walked out of Bride & Prejudice. It's incredible what brilliant chicken nuggets and oversalted chips can do for one's thought processes. Suffice to say, Jo got what she asked for from Caitlin (that teddy bear from Raw Sugar, as well as a helicopter), although somewhat...miniaturised. I opted for the old favourite, Haigh's, and in order to cover up the fact that my present-wrapping skills can be best described as either 'horrible' or 'modern art', I decided only one superhero could save the day: ASTROBOY!

Jo's party started at 8, and it was supremely enjoyable. If I haven't made this point abundantly clear beforehand: HAPPY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY, JOANNA! Although I do not make it a habit to comment on fashion sense and so on, for fear that it may be misinterpreted and/or get me into severe trouble, I would like to say that all the girls who attended were looking marvellous, particularly (but not exclusively, as to name them all would make this entry an epic) Jo, who was wearing a dress (!), which in itself is a noteworthy event, but who had also done her hair in a different style and colour (looks great, Jo!); Courtney, who decided to dress as though she were attending the Ritz (and nicely done, too!); Steph, who must take incredible care with her hair whenever she goes out, because it's always a different style and always looks great; and Amelia, who despite being very unwell pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses and gave the whole thing a CHiPS feel. See? We guys do notice the time and effort the girls put into looking their best!
Amelia had put together a DVD of Jo's life in pictures, as well as interviews with her closest friends and family members. Phil's Spanish-esque guitarwork was as brilliant as it was hilarious, Emo never seemed to realise that the camera actually was on, and Jacob was...Jacob. Jo's dad, in entertaining us with his Glaswegian brogue, also managed to make a hash of Happy Birthday on his violin (which, incidentally, was worth an ARIA). It was a great montage of Jo-ness, expertly arranged by Mia. Great work, Amelia. We all loved it.

I stupidly left my new Grinspoon CD at Jo's. Oh well, I'll call later today (ie. when people are not comatose) and go and pick it up.

Jenkins was hideously drunk, as well as sick. It would have been funny if not for the fact that he is quite ill.

Sally should never be given sparklers or other flaming objects...she dropped one right between my legs! Or maybe it's a conspiracy to stop me from procreating. Either way, having sparks and flames zipping around my groin certainly wasn't cool, but it was rather funny.

Jo's family have a lot of cleaning to do when they wake up. I do not envy them. However, I would like to acknowledge the entire family for their magnificent and tireless efforts to provide us with a fun-filled evening. Thank you ever so much, it is extensively appreciated by all who attended.

Sleep sounds like a plan at the moment. Do not expect me to be conscious before 2pm, nor coherent before 5.

Finally, my sincere wishes that the following people start feeling better very soon, as the cold/hayfever season has hit with a vengeance:
Amelia, Jenkins, Caitlin (I think she's over it, but meh, she gets a wish anyway), Jo, Alison, Steph (same as for Caitlin)...and add one for me too.

G'morning all.

Pain is weakness leaving the Bodie, or Patrick Tree Friends & Friends

If pain is weakness leaving the body, I evidently had lots of weaknesses. Cheers to Major Roe for that gem.

Indoor soccer this evening was fun (and yes, painful). We played at 6pm, and we won 9-5, with Maz scoring 4, PatFute scoring 4 and Sarah scoring 1. Having played the whole game, I was looking forward to relaxing...but then Maz needed an extra pair of legs on his team for their game at 6:40, so mine were drafted, along with my arms, head, chest and back. I played three quarters, scored one goal, missed three others and got very bloody in the process. Meh.

Earlier, we were at uni, which was pretty good, except I had to get up in the wee small hours (6:50am) in order to be at my History tutorial by 9. Then, we had a cool lecture by some guy who is funny (wow, this entry is so winning some English literature prize somewhere), and finally, I had an International Politics seminar, and my tutor is a man by the name of Patrick Tree. In my class there is a man who is quite definitely the long lost identical twin of Bill Oddie. Strange...

We were also visited today by Caitlin and Stephanie, which was excellent, because it's always great to catch up with them. Steph, unfortunately, is feeling unwell. Get well soon! ("Get well soon!" also applies to Ali, Jo, Cait and myself.)

I'd write more, but my brain hurts (yay, a Mr Gumby line).

"So...do either of you have syphilis?"

Anyone who knows Jason O'Conal would no doubt be acutely aware that the title of this blog is dedicated to him. Other Jason moments today involved talking about glory holes, smegma and his Testicle Party, whereby all guests must bring their testicles (women must, in some way, find a pair). Ladies and gentlemen, Jason O'Conal: living proof that being that close to computer monitors for so long does indeed warp one's brain.

Today we had a visit from esteemed guest Courtney Jameson at the UniBar and Rumours Cafe. It was neat catching up with Courtney, who is otherwise exiled to the nether regions known as Flinders University. Another Flindersian who visited today was Amelia, which was also cool, and she enjoyed making circle patterns on Ron's head with a Coke bottle cap.

EmT's German, which she has barely begun, is already quite good. She's picked up on grammatical structures already, which is a damn sight better than those who started German back in Year 8. Go the Shire Maiden!

As a final note, the guy Tony in the UniBar looks remarkably like one Vladimir Ill'ych Lenin...

Have a wonderful night and forthcoming Friday, everyone!

*deep undertone* Well, I guess what they say is true...He does have a plan for us...

We saw Constantine last night. I hear you gasping; surely, Jo, Jenkins, Courtney, Raf, Ron, Andrew, Kelly and we, the esteemed members of the ABP (itself a division of NO KEANU LTD.), could not possibly go and see his latest attempt at acting. Well...we did. And it wasn't bad...the film, not Keanu's attempt at acting; that was atrocious!

Courtney had a revelation: a medium Frozen Coke at Arndale could supply the Antarctic with enough ice to rebuild the Ross Ice Shelf, should it ever melt. Ron, in the meantime, discovered the downside to ever saying anything involving the word "suck". Then, the movie began. John Constantine (aka Keanu "Wow, my Matrix acting was pathetic and yet we made flipping great wodges of cash" Reeves) was good at badly wearing pretty cool suits, as well as being laughable in serious scenes. The cinematography, though, was very good. And guess who's playing the game of betrayal? As Cole Porter once sang, "Well it's GABRIEL, GABRIEL playing!" The continuation of that song involves Gabriel blowing a horn, which is more or less irrelevant in the context of the movie. That is, unless the ludicrously-named "Spear of Destiny" counts as a musical instrument...

Afterwards, we went to see Cory. Cory didn't want to see us (although he did see Caitlin, and his response was something to the tune of "Oh God!"). So we terrorised Paul instead. I'm waiting for Ringo, George and John to join that Maccas as well.

Today I had uni (wow! Surprise!), followed by debating adjudicator training. In the interim, Jacob and I took on all-comers...and failed...at pool. Oh well, I played pretty well, even pulling off a Bodie Shot Triple Axle Aerial Half-Pike with Twist. This means that both the black and white balls went airborne and vacated the table. Pretty neat effort, I thought.

Woooooooooooooooooooorn out. G'night.

Eighteen at Twenty-Eight Zero-Two Zero-Five

Warmest wishes on a very warm day go to Jo, who turned 18 today. She's joined the rest of us "adults". She doesn't drink though, so we couldn't celebrate in style. Doubtless Sally will think of something...

Lack of sleep + uni = TIRED.
(how's that for maths!)

Oh, and today, Tate was destroying all-comers at the pool tables in the UniBar. That is, until Raf decided, with the courage that is only thrust upon very silly people, that he could defeat this billiards Goliath. Silly silly boy...
Tate did not destroy Raf. Raf was completely annihilated. And since this was pub rules, and Raf did not sink one single ball, he was subsequently pantsed, ie. he was forced to drop his pants and run around the table. He thought no one saw, but this roving reporter did, folks, and "Mr Lane, Can Anything Blow Up Space??" can officially reveal to the world that, yes...Raf wears red boxers. Well, rather it was Raf who revealed this to the world...
Yours truly also took on Tate, but sank five (count 'em, FIVE) balls, as opposed to Raf's zero. My shorts remained in their usual position for the duration, and I can happily report that the enigma of my own underwear remains just that: an enigma.

Enjoy the night, folks!