But if is wasn't, and isn't were...

Okay, I'm kinda jumping on the bandwagon with posting lyrics, but this is just a song I happened to be listening to and thinking about...

Miserablism

It seems to me
there's something serious beginning
A new approach found
to the meaning of life
Deny that happiness
is open as an option
and disappointment
disappears overnight
Say that love
is an impossible dream
Face the facts
that's what it's always been
Relax
What you see is what you see
and what you get
is a new philosophy

Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't

Meanwhile your life
is still directed as a drama
with realism
on the sparsest of sets
Every performance
tends to reach the same conclusion
No happy endings
but a message to depress
saying life
is an impossible scheme
That's the point
of this philosophy

Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't

But if 'is' wasn't
and 'isn't' were
you can't be sure
but you might find ecstasy

Just for the sake of it
make sure you're always frowning
It shows the world
that you've got substance and depth
You know life
is an impossible scheme
and love
an imperceptible dream

Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
miserable

No more cold pizza

It's true. The pizza ran out. So I went grocery shopping.

Life in the Bodie Mansion is returning to quietness, due to no one staying here at present :(
Yes, that was a frowning smiley thing (a frowny?), because this is a sad situation. I love company.

For those interested, the first Weekly Blowing Up Space Poll is now over. The results were:
Best song: Machine Gun Fellatio--What the Fuck
Second: Grinspoon--More Than You Are, and Green Day--Holiday
A new poll is up, for those of you know have visited the Bodie Mansion.

Last night, we went to Jenkins' party in the middle of the Gobi Desert...or Gepps Cross, whichever is further from civilisation. Ron was very, very drunk, which proved to be expensive, and Jenkins poisoned himself with good quality Scotch.

Bodie is currently falling waaaaaaaaaaaaaay behind with his uni work, and must depart to do some of it. Bye!

Mansionification

Well, now *almost* everyone has seen the Bodie House; after soccer last night, everyone came over, which was good...pizza and big screen stuff and lotsa Coke. Ali, James and Denley, being short of a mode of transportation, stayed the night and left a few minutes ago.

This is only going to be a short post, because I might go and get coffee from The Store in a moment. But something I do want to say is CONGRATULATIONS to Caitlin and Juan. Couldn't happen to two nicer people.

I hope everyone enjoyed last night; it was good having everyone over. I look forward to a repeat performance. I also look forward to Lotte Moonshine coming back to stay again. Lotte, you're the perfect houseguest. The house already feels a little bit empty...

Anyway, I'm off. Coffee time.

An interesting conversation...

I was playing Yahoo pool with Patrick late on Tuesday night, and while doing so, our pool table was joined by an individual who I will designate 'a' ('a' being some random American who neither Pat nor myself have ever met/talked to). This is the conversation that took place in between shots.
[Patrick=p, Bodie=b, 'a'=a (surprise, surprise)]
a: ill beat any of yous
p: right
b: oh really?
a: bunch of computer nerds
b: no, actually.
p: what makes you say that?
a: look at all u do is polay pool
a: get a life
b: (Pat, the fact that he thinks "yous" is a word is pretty sad.)
a: its computer talk ass
p: hehe
p: but I thought *we* were supposed to be the nerds.
b: Damn you, Pat! You beat me to it!
p: I wonder which is better: playing pool, or watching people play pool?
a: u are u just proved it when u corrected me
b: how?
b: how does using the English language properly mean that I'm a computer nerd?
p: maybe they mean when I "corrected" them
b: and who the hell calls someone else "ass" anyway?
a: I don't care if u do but dont correct me u fuckin nerd
a: me
b: I'll do whatever the hell I want.
p: hehe
a: so will i
p: ok
a: ill say watever i want to
p: this should be interesting...
b: That's handy. Pat, you know you CAN boot him...
p: I know
p: but, it's entertaining
b: Yes. I love seeing idiots flail about in their own stupidity. Don't you?
a: YOUS are just a couple of nerds that cant get a girl
p: how do you know we're not girls?
a: if u are then thats pretty sad
b: why's that?
p: and how do you know whether we're looking for girls or not?
a: so wat yor saying is your gay right/
b: Me personally? Nope.
p: I'm saying that you are making assumptions.
a: so are u
a: saying that im stupdi how can u know that
p: what assumption am I making?
p: we're looking at the evidence.
a: yeah thats pretty sad u dont remeber
a: im looking for evidence your a nerd
b: because you think "yous" is a word, you call people "ass", and you call us computer nerds while basking in your own made up little computerspeak.
a: did i ever say yous is a word tell me when i said that
b: the fact that you used it indicates that you believe it is correct to use in discourse, thus you believe it is a proper word.
a: how wd u no what i think
a: bet you feel stupid now
b: Not really. Do you?
a: man nice comeback what are you 12
**a has left the table**
b: well, that was fun.
p: hehe. Your shot.

Wow!

I'm going to have a whole house to myself, beginning tonight and ending in July. It's kinda cool. Bit daunting, though. I'm hoping I'll have people staying over most of the time, so I shan't get lonely. Which is a good thing. There will be gatherings, I promise. Stay tuned...

I do have uni today, but I'm not going. I might drop in later and play a bit of pool, but that's it. I seriously cannot be bothered. Hopefully, when I'm settled in at Finniss Street, I'll get work done. Until then, though, uni is looking ominous...

If you go down to the very bottom of my blog, you will find a poll. This poll has been created by my good friend Patrick Coleman, aka Padster, PatFute, sql_lall (how many monickers does a man need?!), and is solely powered by coffee...and some programming code thing I don't understand. I'll change it weekly, but do vote. I'll be interested to see the results.

I will kill Terry Thiele if I see him again. Good thing I'm moving to North Adelaide, I'll need to change driving instructors.

Well, have a good one, people! I hope some of you decide to come visit me!

Lazy Saturday

So I'm sitting at the computer, thinking about how I should really do some university work, as if I don't I will most likely fail. My parents are away for the weekend, which means I have the house to myself, which is pretty good. Unfortunately, all my friends are off to Port Elliot this weekend, so there's not really anyone to talk to. I'm verging on emotional and physical exhaustion, purely because I went 40 hours with only two hours of sleep, 26.5 hours without food, and I played indoor soccer, and afterwards I wasn't too calm.
Dignified? Me? Shamefully not. I'd apologise and say thanks to everyone, but it's probably not worth all that much.

FUCK Social Sciences. It's the most boring, useless subject ever created. I imagine root canal therapy or castration with two dessert spoons is more fun.

I was going to write something more meaningful than just a mopey whinge, but I'm afraid that's all there is. I'm going. Bye.

Fate laughs: "Look what we've done to him!"

Tate takes it to the streets

Sorry, but I couldn't resist...
It seems that our good friend Tate can't get enough of being known by flipping great wodges of people. He's now gone overseas, as this sign, spotted in Yokohama, proves...

Welcome friends, indeed...

BOYCOTT!!!

I am thoroughly displeased. Caitlin, over at Evil Creates Greatness, no longer has a link to my blog. This angers me no end.
...and apparently this is because she has no photos of me. How odd. Camera-shy? ME??! ...okay, maybe before, but not recently.
How evil. And definitely not great.

One day they will discover you

There is no real reason for this title, but for the fact that I'm listening to Astro by Neil Finn. Top song...

Happy birthday to JeNkiNz, who turned 20 today. I hope he enjoyed eating the eight-ball...given his now-advanced years, we might have to invest in a zimmer frame for him...
Also, profound congratulations to Denham, who is now engaged to his girlfriend (well, fiancé now) Mardi. Given how devoted he is to her, and she is to him, this was always on the cards, but even so, well done to the future Mr and Mrs Denham Haynes, I'm glad to see such a happy couple...

Funzo and I have been playing Big Buck Hunter II at the UniBar recently, and have come to the conclusion that we really suck.

Apparently people are giving good grades to my new black-haired look. Good-o.

A plug now for Ferdinand Marcos, aka Juan Legaspi, and his shadowy wingman, Justin, who have extended their sinister presence to the internet, with their blog, entitled The Couch Casbah. Everything you ever wanted to know about anything is there, including: why is Ovaltine not called Roundtine? Genius...

Special thanks to Alison and Kelly. Because.

The hectic and stressful art of the sandwich

Okay, firstly let me say that most Subway employees are cool. Emo is cool, because...well, she's Emo. Amelia is cool because you're never sure if she'll make your Dijon Turkey, Bacon and Ham Melt, or whether she'll just carve a Zorro Z in a footlong parmesan oregano roll and fill it with honey mustard. Micky Cleland is cool because he sometimes masquerades as someone named 'Tudor'. Some guy at the one in Stepney is cool because he served me breakfast at 1:30am. And whoever she is down at the Unley one is cool because, on my 18th last year, she gave me like five free cookies to say "happy birthday".
Tonight, however, I was served by some humourless woman in Marion. You know, the type that taps at her arm impatiently when you have the supreme audacity to not know exactly what you want the moment you walk through the door. The type that grunts before each surly question as to what you want on your sub. The type that, upon calculating that your meal comes to $8.15, to which you provide $10, exasperatedly demands another 15c, because it takes a fraction of a second less time to give you $2 change instead of $1.85.
Now, as much as I don't want to sound like a bastard, I've had it up to here with rude servers at places like Subway and Hungry Jack's. May I remind everyone of the tight-arse manager at Marion Hungry's...?
Let me put this as clearly and succinctly as possible.
The customer is not there for the convenience of the server. As the name suggests, the server is there to serve. Surprising concept, I know. But there it is. As a customer, I am not there as an annoyance. I am there because, if I wasn't, you would not have a job. If you don't want my money, just say "I don't want your business as a valued customer, because I do not believe customers are all that important to the company for which I work", and I'll leave. We'll see how long you keep earning your wages...

This, of course, is not an edict against all Subway employees, as I said before. Emo, Zorro, Mike, et cetera...love your work. Keep being great sandwich artists, be it cubist, post-modern or abstract...

"I've put a lemon up a chicken."

Once again, Emma provides me with a quote to name this blog entry with. Interesting...

I was going to post something witty and intelligently funny. But I've forgotten what it was. Oh well. You can all watch the counter and feel privileged.

Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game

Okay, let's see here...
It has come to my attention that I have "this wall thing going". I had no idea I was as off-putting as a solid slab of masonry standing upright and denying access to whatever is behind it. I prefer the idea that I'm more welcoming, but I doubt saying that I have "this white picket fence with a squeaking front gate thing going" sounds nearly as good.

I had a driving lesson today. It is the first time I've driven since I heard about Sam, so I was a little apprehensive. I almost hit Terry (with my fist, that is) while attempting to do parallel parking, because he wouldn't shut up about how I should use "my procedure with your judgement; I've been driving for a long time, I know what I'm talking about." I think he's full of shit, myself, but oh well.
I also almost hit another car and a pedestrian (with the car), but that was because:
a. the other car was supposed to give way but decided to turn straight across me anyway...good thing I was quick on the brake.
b. the pedestrian walked out into the middle of Marion Road, saw me coming and just stopped. No joke. He just stood rooted to the spot. Again, neat braking by me.

Any nerdy readers should definitely visit my Star Trek: Mariner site and download all thirteen currently-completed Mariner stories, as written by me. Ah, shameless plugs...

Indoor soccer on Friday was won by us with a scoreline of 9-2...but now Tate and Illmo are putting together a team. This will be most interesting. More interesting will be whether Illmo can play sober.

Lots and lots of pool tonight. Speak to Raf if you want to come with.

Jacob and goats don't mix

Okay, here's the story.
One day, Jacob played chicken with a goat on a motorbike...hold on a minute, that really doesn't sound right. Jacob was on the motorbike (not the goat), and goats and chickens don't play all that much. But you know what I mean.
Anyway, Jacob rammed the goat (not a pun, I promise)...the bike went BANG, and Jacob went SPLAT. Goat wins.
Later on, Jacobob tried to herd a sheep on to the back of a ute. Midway through this procedure, the sheep turned around and headbutted Jacob's groin. Jacob went SPLAT. Sheep wins. Are we seeing a pattern here?
Suffice to say, Jacob has de-bleat-ed his chances of being employed on a farm, and is now feeling somewhat sheepish.
Bodie, on the other hand, is now feeling utmost shame for that last sentence.

Speaking of sheep, Jason has dropped into uni two days in a row! Wow! And he bought us all drinks tonight, which was cool.
Belated birthday wishes to Dangerous Tom, who turned 20 yesterday. I hear he got a pickle jar as a present...I wonder if there's an M-16 hidden in it...
Other esteemed visitors recently have been:
Jojo, who turned up for Tom's birthday bash yesterday.
Caitlin, relishing her new role as Spazzy Stalin, who also came by for Tom's.
Amelia Zorro, who went nuts for Tom's birthday, and made a supercool card.
Courtney and Lauren, who appeared today to say hi to Sheepy.

A new innovation from Potato the Chip is the Potato Break, which is a pool break that does odd stuff, that only Tate can do. Example today was when he missed the triangle of balls completely, the cue ball bounced off the back cushion and back on to the triangle. Only four balls moved. One was sunk. Erm...nice, Tate.

Our indoor soccer game for Friday night (7:20pm at Stepney ICA) is looking interesting...we've lost our past two games, so this one is a must-win. So far, the team is:
-Pat
-Stevo
-Ron
-Sarah
-Amelia Zorro (maybe)
-Raf
-Bodie
Should be fun...and hopefully we'll have a win this time around...

...and where the bloody hell is Juan, aka Ferdinand Marcos? Is he still dead from soccer last Friday?

...can I have his car if he is?

Here's the last toast of the evening...

...and it most likely goes to Master Jamie Illman, who tonight proved conclusively that he is, indeed, made from barley, hops and attractive yeast.

Previously, Illmo referred to Allan the Pseudo Pool Guy as the "Friday Fuckwit", but that title was won last week. This week, someone else has taken the place of Allan as the Fuckwit, but we thought him too...fuckwit-ish...to just let slip. Here's an example from today:
SITUATION: Steph's on the eight-ball, and it's fairly well lined up. She takes the shot, but the eight doesn't sink.
Allan: Wow, you must really suck if you can't get that in.
Congratulations, Allan! Not only have you already made an enemy of...well, everyone from Adelaide Uni, you've now antagonised our UniSA visitors as well! This type of idiocy can't just be commemorated for the short period of one week; a few years may be enough. Therefore, I hereby crown Allan the Pseudo Pool Guy as the Official Blowing Up Space Decade Dickhead.
This is, of course, not the sole piece of silverware in Allan's pool room (which most likely does not have a pool table; he just calls it the pool room so it makes him sound like a real pool guy). Here's the inventory:

1. Blowing Up Space Decade Dickhead Award, 2005-2015
2. Illmo's Friday Fuckwit Award, 29 May 2005
3. Graduation Certificate, The Kevin Foley School of Boring Pratness
4. High Distinction Certificate, Westpac Annoyance Competition, 2001-2003

I might write more about Friday, but not now. Later.
G'night.

Congratulations. Here's a toy.

Owing to recent events, I haven't been in much of a mood to post of late.
Here's a shout out to some people who I think deserve it:
Kel: for being more kind and more understanding than anyone could possibly expect.
Spazzy Stalin: somewhat similar as with Kel, for which I am duly grateful.
Jojo: for laughing and smiling, no matter what.
Amelia Zorro: for going crazy.
EmT: for insisting that I was drunk when I was quite sober indeed. Made me laugh manically.
The Great Potate-O: for not yet pantsing me.
Illmo: for being absolutely bloody loopy.
Marx: for being a never-ending inspiration for a great variety of things. благодарность, comrade!
EmO: for being a supercool post-modern sandwich artist.
Jenkins: for being a ninja. A pool-playing ninja...
Kronk: for keeping like a madman.
Rack Boy: for being the butt of most jokes. And taking it like a chimp...erm, champ. Also, for racking with the best of them.
Ferdy Marcos: for staking a claim on one of the barmaids, and thus providing reason to murder Allan the Pseudo Pool Guy.
Stevo: Mia called him the "most loyal" person she knows. I frankly couldn't agree more.
Lotte Moonshine: for keeping coffee beans in constant demand. And for being there. Always.
Jacobob: for doing cool stuff. And for being "The Funz".
Paratrooper Phil: for making sure no one ever messes with us. Because messing with us means messing with Phil. And no one ever, ever, messes with Phil.
Dangerous Tom: for being dangerous.
Pat Mysterio Jr: for being a genius, and good at pool.
Sal: for, like, showing that stupid people are retarded, especially if they don't like MGF.
...and to anyone I missed, I apologise profusely.

I thought, by my thoughts, all would come clear to me

Some time in the past week, there was a traffic accident. Two cars collided with each other; one driver was killed on impact, the other was removed from his vehicle in a critical condition. He was taken to hospital with severe injuries, but was pronounced brain-dead over the weekend. His life-support system was deactivated on Saturday or Sunday.

He was Sam Webster, and he was a schoolmate of mine for nine years, from 1993-1996, and 2000-2004.

At the time of the accident, he would have been, I believe (though I may be mistaken) 18 years and 5 months old. I also believe that he was going out to get pizza, because he was hungry.
The other driver, as fate would have it, was his uncle, or so I am told by Tom Cowell.

I'm not going to speculate upon the cause of the crash. It doesn't matter if either of them were speeding, drunk or otherwise. The fact remains that there was an accident. Two people were killed. And there was no reason or meaning for it.

18 years and 5 months. What an absolute fucking waste. I was never close friends with Sam. In fact, there were a few times when I really didn't like him all that much. But we got along alright most of the time, we were never enemies. The kinda thing where, if I saw him on the street I might go and say hello. I never hated him, and even if I did, he didn't deserve this.

Nobody does...

I would like to express my sincere and heartfelt condolences to the Webster family, to Sam's friends and all those who knew him, on this occasion of such a profound and devastating loss.

Don't say it's all been a waste of time.

Return of the Pink-Socked Mullet Man...and something we're not sure whether it is a man or not...

Friday was an interesting day, insofar that it was mostly unsuccessful, yet fun...in a way.
Firstly, Illmo got pantsed by ManWoman. Well, no, he didn't. You see, Master Illman was playing a doubles game with Tom against ManWoman and some guy from New South Wales. On Tom's first shot, he sank the black. ManWoman immediately said that that meant either Tom or Illmo had to do the run with their pants down. Now, as we all know, the prerequisite for pantsing is that you are beaten by skill, not error. Put simply, in order to be pantsed, your opposition must have potted out while you still have all seven of your balls on the table.
This was not the case. Unfortunately, despite Illmo's spirited protests (in which he pointed out, rightly, that the same thing had happened to me earlier in the day when I had been playing him, and I didn't have to run), ManWoman was insistent, even going so far as getting one of the bar staff to announce on the PA system that Illmo was going to run round the table pants-down if he continued to refuse. In the end, Tom bought it and it's partner a beer each, but the fact that he was forced into doing so is quite disgraceful.

Later in the evening was our indoor soccer game, against "The DBTs". Illmo believes this stands for Dumb Brunette Tuscans. I'm not inclined to disagree. They were the team we played against a few weeks ago, and I almost had a punch-up with their keeper. This time around it was a very violent game; two of their players in particular, who we nicknamed Pink-Socked Mullet Man and Totti Goldsmith (who the referee called "a fucking dickhead"), were in the thick of it. Totti Goldsmith targeted Stevo, and was very violent about it, while Pink-Socked Mullet Man had it in for me. It is a tribute to Stevo and Ron, in particular, that they didn't lose their tempers, despite having the reason and the opportunity to belt the crap out of a few of the opposition. The final score was 4-6; our first loss for the season. Nonetheless, special thanks must go to Stephanie; she's never played before, but she took to the field and defended excellently.
In the aftermath, we all went back to Steph's place, where Illmo gave us a great rendition of the Pink-Socked Mullet Man Song, which will soon be topping the charts. We played pool, watched Buffy, then Steph kindly dropped Stevo, Illmo, Caitlin and I to our various houses, which was surely inconvenient for her. Thanks, Steph!

You may have noticed that there are many references to Illmo in this post. That is interesting, because Caitlin devoted an entire post to him over at Evil Creates Greatness. So I shall leave you with the best description of Illmo I can think of...

Jamie Illman: Made from barley, hops and attractive yeast.