xmas redux

My last word on Christmas.

*snigger*
*guffaw*

Well, technically not my words. And mostly not words anyway. But they sum up much of the way I feel towards the season. And humanity in general at this time of year.

'Bah humbug' be damned: where's my chainsaw & hockey mask?

urban living

I've been feeling a bit morose and down the last week or so, a combination of the hated Christmas season and visiting Christchurch again. Catching up with friends and once again realising how much I miss them. While the interweb a wonderful tool, and has made me a number of dear new friends, it's no substitute for a real life hug.

So it's taken a while to recover my blogging feng shui.

Fortunately tonight, well, this morning technically, downstairs guy has kick-started me back into it.

I've not mentioned him here before I think. He's been a minor irritation ever since we moved in. He makes loud (house-shakingly loud) bangs at very odd times of the night (well, odd for most people - I'm usually awake, being the vampire that I am). Initially we thought he was chopping firewood inside, and it took us a while to figure out that he must be deliberately slamming doors. Repeatedly.

Things came to head the last time I was in away in NZ. He'd been waking my partner up with the noise so at about 3am one night she went down to ask him (politely!) to stop. He decided to yell and threaten her, not letting her talk at all. She wisely retreated and called the landlord the next day.

Our landlord is cool, has always been good to us and helpful when we've needed anything. He rang downstairs guy and basically told him to shape up or get out, which we thought had done the trick since there's only been the occasional random thump from the guy for a couple of months now.

But obviously the strain of reining in the arsehole within has gotten too much for the cunty fucktard. So he starts up again tonight. Slamming doors, thumping around down there, generally being a fuckwit.

I guess he thought there was only a girl living up here (he never comes out of his apartment, we've seen him twice - both times in his doorway) so it must have come as a bit of a surprise when a furious and foul-mouthed man just about broke his fucking door down.

I remember telling him to shut the fuck up, threatening to kick his fucking head in, and something about tearing his motherfucking throat out, but the rest of it is a bit of a blur. Probably a very good thing he wouldn't open his door. Something broke when I was hammering on it though. Oops..

The positive outcome is that he's not made a peep since.

Unfortunately now I have more adrenaline than a base-jumper on crack coursing through my veins and sleep is a laughable concept at best.

And I bruised my hand on his door. Owie.

bah humbug

Actually I was going to title this one "fuck Christmas" but.. well.. I don't know. I'm trying to swear less. It's not going well..

I'm really fucking hating this time of year, as usual.

I'm not going to rant on about the rampant souless commercialism. The greedy, grubby, worship-the-almighty-fucking-dollar nature of the season.

Or the inappropriate Northern hemisphere decorations and accoutrements - it's summer here you dicks, we don't need sleighs and furred hats (although admittedly it's hardly summery in Christchurch at the moment).

Or even the fucking hideous music trotted out every year. Combining both the above rants, commercial shit about weather that just doesn't happen at this time of year.

My issues with Christmas this time are more internal. I just hate the whole gift thing. It's not that I hate giving or receiving gifts, I just never feel like I've a) deserved the gifts I get, or b) given appropriate/enjoyable/even-remotely-good gifts.

This is my own personal hell. Spending days wandering around shopping for gifts in the crowds and noise and smell and horror of this season is something that I find physically revolting and mentally numbing.

Doing all that for days without ever finding anything for anyone else that I'm even remotely happy with is just waggling around that knife already stuck deep in my guts.

So I don't give gifts much.

But I'm trying to get better. It feels like my soul is being crushed in a vice to spend so much time shopping, but I am trying.

homec-c-c-coming

Back in Godzone yet again. But this time, it has to be said:

What the fuck have you been doing with the weather!

Jee-zus!

It's supposed to be SUMMER! You know: sunshine, heat, sunburn, sunblock. SUN for god's sake!

It's about 4 fucking degrees out there, blowing a fucking gale and the rain (ha! sleet!) is coming in horizontal!

There are penguins flying north to get better weather!

Ok, ok, make all the obligatory you've-gone-soft-coz-you've-been -living-in-Australia cracks. Frankly Sydney in summer is no picnic if you don't have air-con, sweating has become a major pastime of mine. But at least it's doing what it's supposed to at this time of year.

Bloody New Zealand. You just have to be different don't you.

Screw this, my fingers are turning blue. I'm getting a hot-water bottle and as many cats as I can find and going back to bed. Company would be greatly appreciated - just for the body heat of course..

must work on that..

I'm sure I'm much more evil than that.



Sorry about the lame-ass excuse for a post but I still can't bring myself to blog about my Christmas shopping experiences yesterday.

The hordes of people..

The appalling music..

The forced Christmas cheer..

The horror.. the horror..

*curls into fetal position*

blogiversary

It almost escaped my notice but today is my one year blog anniversary.

Um. Yay. Go me.

I guess I'd be more excited about it if I wasn't more fixated on groaning, sweating, and my regular clench-cheeked scuttle to the toilet.

really crapski..

Curse the Japanese.
For the invention of delicious sushi (well.. for Dragonball Z and Pokewhatsits too, but that's a rant for another day).
Then for allowing the stuff I ate to have been well colonised by microbial boot-boys.

I have food poisoning.

I'm not going to die, I just want to. And occasionally smell like I've been dead for some time. And buried in pig manure.

I'm not going to go into the gruesome and noisome details because that'd just make me hurl again.

Now I'm going back to bed to sweat some more.

Talk amongst yourselves.

down to earth

I'm finding it difficult to write about the weekend. I mean, I can list all the stuff we did and talk about the flight and the jumps and the landings and everything. But that's all just dry facts.

You'll just have to imagine me jumping up and down with excitement when you read it. 'Awesome' does absolutely nothing to describe the feelings of jumping out of a plane at 3,500 feet.

It was fan-fucking-tastic.

Inexpressibly amazing.

Yeah, I had a good time *s*

We went up on the Friday night (5 hours of driving, through the Blue Mountains which would have been lovely if it hadn't been a) night time, and b) so foggy it was like driving in a marshmallow) and Saturday we went out to the airstrip for training. The training started at around 7:30 and went all day, which seems like a lot but the time went pretty fast. We were finally ready to go for the jump in mid afternoon (I lost all track of time so I couldn't tell you when), and then it was just a matter of waiting on the wind..

There were eight students: six first-timers and two who'd done a number of static line jumps, but no free-fall as yet. The legal requirements for pushing beginners out of a plane say that the wind has to be below 15 knots and has been under it for 15 minutes. That afternoon the wind was all over the place and hovering around 15 knots.

Then the first group got the ok and were off. I was in the second group so it was a nervous/frustrating/exciting wait on the ground for them to finish. They all got out fine and landed well, the wind was pretty steady for their landings.

Then we were on. The worst bit was packing into that plane - a single engine thingy with enough room for the pilot, instructor and four others kneeling in the back. So we got in, all cramped and contorted, and taxied out to the runway only to be turned back at the last minute because the wind had come up again.

So it was back again.. and another nervous wait. I honestly thought at that stage that we weren't going to get to do it, the wind was all over the place.

But then, about 20-30 minutes later (or however long it was - time really had no meaning to me by this stage), we were given the nod. No fucking about this time, check equipment (got your parachute? yep. good-o) in the plane, down the runway and up. And up. And up.

It takes about 5-8 minutes to get to 3,500 feet, enough time to truly start packing your pants.

And just when you think it can't get any scarier, they open the door. At this stage we're moving at 120mph & still lining up for the drop zone, getting the plane in position. So it's really fucking noisy and windy.

Then it's "throttle down, brakes on, lets go".

*deep breath* just remembering gives me palpitations..

I was third out so I had to watch and get more nervous as the others did their exits. After each jump the plane does a circuit around the target area, so there's plenty of space between each person (avoiding mid-air collisions and landing on each other).

So by my turn I was pumped. Pretty well psyched out, truth be told, but I managed to focus on just getting the exit procedure right.

Oh.My.God. When that door came open.. It was a good thing we'd spent all day drilling it into our heads.

"Hands on door!"
"Right foot!"
"Left hand!"
"Right hand!"
"Crossover!"
"Shuffle!"
"Hang!"
"Check left!"

At that point I was hanging from the strut of the plane at 3,500 feet waiting for the ok to let go.

"Go!"

Let go..

..and..

drop...

That moment was worth the whole thing.

It was only a few seconds before the static line dragged my chute out and I started having to worry about end cell closures, line twists, getting the steering toggles down and everything else. But those few moments were sublime.

After that was amazing too. Gliding around the sky, seeing the incredible view (thunderclouds rolling in from the south) and trying not to get too distracted. Because the target assistant was turning a big arrow to keep me on track for landing.

For 3-4 minutes it felt like I was just floating, there's not much perception of speed till you get closer to the ground. Then once I got within range the TA switched to the paddles to guide me the last couple hundred metres. That was a nervous time, I was close enough to see how fast I was actually traveling (around 20 knots) and had to really focus on the TA and not think about the ground getting closer very fast.

As it was, my landing was less than graceful but that wasn't my fault (honestly!). The wind had dropped to almost zero so there was nothing to slow my forward speed, which meant I executed a humourous pratfall for the merriment of all watching. Bastards.

I was absolutely buzzing.

Unfortunately that was the only jump we had time for that day, otherwise I would have been up again straight away.

That night was the club's Christmas dinner so we were back out at the airfield for a bbq and the presentation of our certificates (apparently I had the best arch Cindy, my instructor, had seen on a guy. What can I say? I'm flexible!). After all the anxiety, stress and adrenaline of the day we were all pretty beat, I was almost falling asleep through the video of the year's events until it came to the formation freefall competitions in Florida, and the base-jumping in Norway. That was pretty insane. And got me hooked all over again.

Hmmm.. Base jumping..

Anyway, the next day was a bit better for wind although it was extremely changeable. As I was to find out to my discomfort.

For my first jump of the day all seemed to go well. I was first out which was just as scary as the previous day, but this time I had everything down sweet and it went flawlessly. Had line twists again, seems to be a pretty common problem but very easy to fix if you don't freak out.

I took a bit more time to fool around flying the chute, doing turns and spins, and also having a better look around. Lots of fun.

The landing, on the other hand, not so much fun. Unbeknownst to me the wind had first swung around 180 degrees then dropped to zero on my final approach. This meant that I was quite a bit further away from the target than I should have been and approaching much faster than desirable. I didn't really know any of this at the time, at least not till the very last instant when I noticed that a) the TA was a long way away, and b) the ground was coming up very quickly.

As it was I was spared splatting straight into the ground by the fortuitous placement of a barbed wire fence.

My right leg whacked into one of the posts, spinning me sideways and head-over-heels. I came down shoulder first into the fence then, after losing a little blood and a great deal of fabric from the jumpsuit, went face down into.. well I've no idea. Probably not the barbed wire coz I've still got a face, maybe just some brush, then the ground. I remember the ground.

And my first words upon cheating death?

"Well, that was unpleasant"

Master of understatement me.

But at least they came to get me in the ute so I didn't have to walk all the way back to the hanger. And the chute wasn't too badly ripped - they repaired it and I took it up for my third jump about an hour later.

That one went off without a hitch, although the landing was again a little rough. The wind gods really don't like me much.

So.

Well, there's more but I could just go on for hours about the whole weekend. It was brilliant and I'll be going back for more. Only two more jumps and I get to try freefall! Yeehaa!

tough as nails me..
Originally uploaded by fb.

geronimo!

Bollocks to this, I'm off to Forbes.

To do this.

Hopefully reporting back on sunday. If not, it's free-for-all on my books.

Ciao lovelies.

scents and sensibilities

Cities stink.

I know this isn't news to anyone but, being a newcomer to a subtropical city that's about 100 times the size of my hometown, the full reeking glory of this place has been impressed upon me recently. And summer isn't really upon us yet..

This morning was a particularly bad one for dogshit. It rained a bit during the night which moistened the aforementioned turds, allowing their delicate aroma to be released, mingling beautifully with the aromatic eucalyptus leaves. A truly retch inspiring scent.

Then there's the all pervasive vehicle exhaust. Choking. Especially on a really hot day (yesterday made 39 degrees, that's about 102 F for those still not in the 21st Century). There's barely enough oxygen in the air to start with so to get a lungful of CO, CO2, sulphur dioxide and partly-combusted hydrocarbons isn't going to improve your mood.

Rubbish day is a particularly pungent time. Bags and bags of decaying matter lining the streets giving off almost visible waves of stench.

Then there's the occasional waft of open sewer, most commonly found near building sites where some jackass with a jackhammer has made an unfortunate excavation.

I thought I'd been inured to foul smells from years of working with the fishies. And, to tell the truth, nothing yet has topped the smell of rotting sea anemone. I gag just remembering that one.. But in any case, my nose hasn't been cauterised nearly enough.

Sydney ain't a city for the faint of snout..

fishboy's utopia

Yes! Yes! YES!

(except for the hippy-ass naked people at the end. seriously, what's with that guy's pose?)

(props to Peter M)

crapski

Well, I was going to blog pointless inconsequentialities about my day. Like the psycho busdriver I had this morning (never trust anyone with a small moustache and a uniform..), or the Amishly bearded men who run the convenience store near my work (odd choices in beards but lovely guys), or the most amusing name I came across today (Rumph: if that was my name I'd be unable to resist naming one of my children Ha).

But all that has been ejected from my mind by the discovery, just now, that I'm booked in for jumping out of a plane on Saturday..

Holy crap.

I wonder if I can convince them to let me do the jump before the take off?

grogblogging

So I'm a wee bit drunkywunky..

So I spent some of the evening trapped in a room with seven girly girls all straightening their hair and talking about nail polish and how many times they'd been to the gym that week and how much weight they'd lost/gained recently.

So it was fucking hell.

So I managed to escape, with the help of a campadre, to the boys' flat next door. Where we played drinking games and listened to music and talked about shit. And had fun.

So we listened to some shit-hot breaks and funk. And some beatboxing from Rahzel which has to be heard to be believed.. That guy can make amazing sounds.

So I actually had a really good evening.

MorningAfterEdit: Managed to remember to drink water before sleep last night so not hungover. No calls on the great white telephone this morning.

I seem to remember wandering around the interweb scattering comments to the wind whilst under the affluence of incahol. If you were the unfortunate recipient of my drunken rambles I apologise profusely. Now I must go drink coffee and go to the beach.

snaily mailee

I've had a few takers for the great fishy mailout, fortunately not too many or you'd all be getting one page of notes scribbled on the bus to/from work.

They'll be posted in order of whim, so don't think because you were first in you'll be getting one immediately Bro. Anyway, I'm now going to go find a shadey(ish) spot on the roof and write.. perhaps.. or maybe just enjoy this glorious day.

the old fashioned way

Right, here's an offer that you can easily refuse.

Since I'm so totally failing in the email department (there are people I owe email to that have probably forgotten who I am) I am henceforth (and fifth) declaring that if you give me your snail mail address I will write to you. Yes, I will actually put pen to paper and physically make the chicken scratchings I pass off as writing.

Then I will [drumroll] post it to you!

Wherever in the world you happen to be.

I make no promises as to the quality of the letters, in fact I can pretty well guarantee that they'll be shite, even if you manage to decipher my munted hieroglyphic-like scrawl. But I will write.

This I do swear on my fishy heart.

Email me, if you don't want to leave your addy in the comments.
fishboy AT gmail DOT com.

Any takers?

PS You've got till the 18th of December, coz I'm flapping my way back to NZ then and won't be writing much while I'm away. People to see, places to go. You know how it is.

books

I bought a book yesterday. First book I've bought for a while, perhaps 6 weeks. Which, for someone who used never to go through a week without purchasing at least a couple of books (and a cd, but that's another story), is an alarming trend.

My book reading has tapered off since discovering weblogs. And, although I love the interwebthing and am NOT giving it up, I miss the books.

I miss having a stack of books by my bed, reading them all at the same time (no, not like that you idiot, reading them concurrently).

I miss having books in my bed. Under my bed. Under my pillow. *sigh*

But anyway, yes I bought a book. It's Iain M. Banks' latest sci-fi, The Algebraist. And I already love it simply for the gorgeous cover. I'll keep you posted on it.

In other book news, the woman reading Siddhartha on the bus finished it today. The guy who's reading The Catcher in the Rye wasn't there, or I at least I didn't see him, but he's been going on that book for so long now I think he's just doing it for the pose value.

I haven't seen the Hemingway woman for a while (I keep missing that bus), but the woman that reads pulpy crap was reading some such pulpy crap again today.. can't even remember what it was.

The most amusing thing recently was the 50ish very dapper greying businessman in an impeccably tailored suit reading a street press (Drummedia or somesuch) article on Missy Elliot. That had me smiling all morning.

Edit: I got mail from my favourite superhero today. I refer of course to Cerebus the Aardvark, he of the snout-punch and third-person monologues. Well, not directly from him, from him via his creator who's giveaway meme I saw mentioned by Neil Gaiman.

So I am the proud owner of a copy of Cerebus #164 signed by Dave Sim and Gerhard.

I love this comic, despite the fact Sim has degenerated into a frothing loon (google him and you'll get links to some mysogynist forum thingy..). I just love the way it looks, and the first 150ish issues are cracklingly brilliant.

rhetorical question

How good are mangoes?

Oh.My.God.

Ok, go on - you can answer.

But be aware that if your answer isn't along the lines of "spoogingly good" it will be treated with the scorn it deserves.

confession

I have a shameful secret. One that, if revealed will destroy my pinko lefty faux-Gothy underachieving alternative cool facade..

I don't like Radiohead.

I know, I know. I will never again be able to hold my head up in hip subcultural society.

Especially with my other shameful secret:

I like Dire Straits.

I'm so so terribly uncool...

caught by the fuzz

I've grown back a goatee.

Just a small one. One of those tufty things that look wanky on most people and cool on a very few. And a bit silly on me.

But it's been nearly 5 months without facial hair and with a shaving regime more rigorous than any I've had before in my life. So I need a area that I don't have to shave, a sort of hairy oasis (to conjure a rather revolting image).

But now, a few weeks into it, I'm reconsidering.

Because the damn thing is developing a seriously grey look. Or "salt and pepper" to be more pompous.

Bloody hell, am I going to have to start dying my facial hair?

moving pictures

I've been thinking about movies a lot lately. I've not been going to very many lately and this is beginning to pain me.

I used to go to perhaps a movie a week when I lived in Christchurch, there were benefits to being in a small city and living in the center of it. I had a great independant movie theatre 200m from my front door, another pseudo-non-mainstream one within 5 minutes walk, and a Rialto 5 minutes bike away.

Happy times. But now I think I've been spoilt: I can't seem to get organised/keep the enthusiasm up for the 30-45 minutes it takes to get to any of the movie theatres around here.

Yes I know it's just laziness and bad time-management but those are two of my defining traits. If I am not late for everything then I am not fishboy.

But anyway, I've uploaded to my brain-dump blog some movie lists from previous years. I seem to have mislaid last year's list and haven't collated the bits of paper pertaining to this years' so it's only from '98 to '02. But I'll add the others as (if!) I get organised.

2002
2001
2000
1999
1998

I'll add commentary or a rating system (chocolate fish?) at some stage.
Probably.
Well, almost certainly, because there are some movies that people need to be warned about.
Like 'The Avengers'
*shudders*
avoid avoid avoid..

interesting times

Be careful what you wish for.

So, on my way back from a mammoth karate session (oh my aching toes.. trust me - it's the toes that suffer most) and the first bus I catch is packed so I'm standing. The next stop some crazy guy gets on, shuffles down the aisle a bit and takes a swing at me.

My finely honed reflexes prevent any contact (naturally) so I just stare at the guy in bemusement. Not very Yoshukai I know, I should have dismembered him and beaten his pulped corpse with his own limbs. But it's been a long day, give me a break. There's only so much bodily violence you can dish out on a daily basis.

Anyway, he just wanders on past muttering to himself and sits down the back.

Frankly I'm impressed with myself - I must have looked so cool. Well, I did in my own mind.

Don't burst my bubble dammit.

The next bus I caught was completely empty at first but the first person other than me to board it chose for some inexplicable reason to sit right in front of me. And was wearing pungent and offensive aftershave. My nostrils are still seared. On the other hand he was wearing what would be almost cool on someone else - a pink shirt with little Space Invaders all over it. I want one!

Then the next stop some muttering woman gets on and sits right behind me. At which point I'm beginning to feel uneasy. Like I'm in some horror movie and they'll all turn out to be zombies. Or Mormans. Or zombie Mormans. Or whatever.

Then the very next person, a morbidly obese woman with loud headphones, gets on and sits right across the aisle from me. At this stage I'm holding my bag ready to break the window and run screaming "Undead! Undead!". Or something.

The next two passengers obviously sense there's something seriously amiss at the Circle K and sit as far away from me as possible. Bastards, they were just hanging me out there as bait for the evil dead.

The next two are a pair of diminutive Asian girls carrying large parcels. I didn't trust them one bit. Especially when they looked up the bus and came & sat right behind the headphones woman, who at this stage I was convinced was receiving messages in the music and sooner or later there'd be the trigger code to send her on a bloody killing rampage.

I could almost hear the muttering woman behind me repeating "one of us.. one of us" under her breath.

So, deciding that running the fuck away is the better part of valor, I got off hurriedly at the next stop.

The fishboy fabled freak magnet strikes again. Damn, I thought I'd lost that thing.

all apologies

Not really. Just had the song in my mind.

So..

Hmmm

Look it's just not going to happen tonight. There's far too much swirling in this poor overloaded wee head of mine. Some of it desperately wants out but that's the stuff that has to be reined in hardest. Woah horsies.

The rest.. well I don't really have much to boast of in my mundane day to day existance.

wake grudgingly
make coffee
log on
drink coffee
browse weblogs
shower
iron shirt
get dressed
brush teeth
start to leave
remember to shave
make sure I have everything
forget something
leave house
walk to bus stop
daydream
miss bus
stand on side of road watching people till next bus
daydream
sit on bus watching people
go to work
work
work
work
daydream
work
work
coffee and muffin
work
work
chat with work mates
work
work
daydream
work
miss lunch
work
daydream
snack
daydream
work
leave work
wait for bus
daydream
watch people
catch bus
daydream
walk home from bus stop
log on
check mail
browse weblogs
chat
cook dinner
eat
surf aimlessly
think about writing
read other people's writings
think about commenting
surf aimlessly
go to bed far too late
at some stage, sleep

Christ it even bored me just writing that.

it has begun..

and I have writers block already..

_anything_

freaky love monkey says:
on a completely other note - you seen tequila mockingbird's halloween header? very cute

frogstar says:
nope...

freaky love monkey says:
she has the _best_ fonts ever

frogstar says:
i'm gonna have a squizz now

freaky love monkey says:
eww

freaky love monkey says:
oh, a _squizz_

frogstar says:
ooooooooo! cute!

frogstar says:
she writes so well....

freaky love monkey says:
soooo well

freaky love monkey says:
*jealous*

frogstar says:
*jealous too*

freaky love monkey says:
yeah well.. we should probably just get off our arses and write _anything_ for our own blogs..

freaky love monkey says:
crap, my last post was over a week ago..

freaky love monkey says:
and yours was a quizz on hand guns!

freaky love monkey says:
weirdo

frogstar says:
heh

frogstar says:
give me a topic and i'll write a post right now

freaky love monkey says:
what happened to the 'trees I have hugged' idea?

frogstar says:
i need a botanical dictionary for that

freaky love monkey says:
*eyebrow*

freaky love monkey says:
oo-er

frogstar says:
pinus radiata, and all that jazz

freaky love monkey says:
*sniggers* you said pinus

note to self

When, at the end of a long, solitary and introspective day, you are forced, finally, to go to the supermarket or risk eating cat biscuits for sustenance, do not, if you wish to remain innocuous and inconspicuous, wear a tee-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon fish and the words "Hello! I am a fish!".

My ninja invisibility powers are weak today.

blasts from the past #1

by fb.

This was my home for nearly five years, when I was living in Christchurch. My room was the upstairs left-hand side one. The one with the balcony and the eery glow..

new meme

Well, for me. My first ever Friday Q! And I'm well aware that it's Saturday, if you know me then you'll know that 'late' is a word that is usually associated with my name. Often with swear words.

Here we go, the topic this week is "search":

FQ1: In one word, describe a luxury item you would want if stranded on a desert island for a year. Why? I wonder if a "companion" is a luxury item? Especially if "sexy" and "fun" are added. Yes, I'm cheating already.

FQ2: In one word, describe a food you wouldn't mind eating every day for a month. Why? I'd like to say "pasta" but then I'm not a fan of it dry. "Bread" is another but then I don't like white bread. "Fruit" is probably the winner, as long as it's not tamarillos. Or just dodge the question entirely and go for "tasty". It's my test, I'll cheat all I like.

FQ3: In one word, describe an occupation that you wouldn't necessarily want as a career, but wouldn't mind trying out for a week. Why? Millionaire playboy springs to mind, but I'd need more than a week to spend a million dollars. I'll have to go with "weatherman", like on tv, because they always seem to have the best drugs.

FQ Search: Enter your first name PLUS the above three words into a Google search and see if anything interesting comes up! Googling fishboy companion tasty weatherman looked like there was going to be a very strange porn site but sadly, and boringly, there's nothing there. I am unique.

Right, having wasted entirely too much time on this quiz, I must away. I've a party to be at and - oh, look at that! I'm already late!

bloggage

I've not been doing much personal bloggering lately, and have been chastised for the lapse by several people (my adoring fans.. the club membership badges will be available soon my pretties).

To tell the truth though, there's not a great deal going on. I've been sick all week which has kept me from doing anything much. I hate being sick. I know most people do (except for weirdo hypochondriacs) but I'm a mean sick person. I hate being nursed or even associating much with people when sick. And this is twice in the space of a month that I've been sick. Hate hate hate...

But anyway.

I'm house-sitting for my parentals at the moment, as I might have mentioned in an earlier post. I arrived in the country and they left a day later. They get back in a couple of weeks and I leave a few days after that. We're a close family.

The main reason I'm here is to fork out exorbitant amounts of money to get a brand-spanking new Swedish tooth installed (the Swedes make good tooth). So $3500 down the track I'll have a gleaming new smile. Actually the reason it's costing so much is so that the new tooth doesn't stand out like a goth at a hip hop gig. So the new one has to blend in with my other coffee- & wine-stained fangs.

Still, we seem to be a family of dental problems at the moment. My mother has what the doctors believe to be a lichen (what the..?!) infection in her mouth, for which she's just had a $3600 treatment. That much for just 4mls of some mouthwash... I so should have been a chemist.

And my brother broke a molar recently. Chewing on granola. Damn health foods, I knew they were bad for you (my mother's advice was priceless though: "Try porridge". Like I said, we're a close & loving family..).

The other reason I'm here is to house-sit for the wrinklies while they're off swanning around South Australia. Or more to the point cat-sit. They have two young Abyssinian cats who are slightly deranged.

As an example, here are some old texts I got from Pennyloopy when she cat-sat for them some months ago:

Yr mums cat just brought home a huge tarantula thingy... I may have to move out.

Hey zoologist - is it normal for cats to climb into the washing machine?

Do the cats normally pounce on yr back and bite yr feet and pee on your car? Maybe that's cat for we love you?

What about when they hide your stuff around the house? They're on drugs from the vet at the moment so thats probably it.

And others in that same vein.

Since being here I've been routinely lacerated, comprehensively shed on - so much so that all my clothes appear to be fur and Animal Rights activists throw red paint at me on the street, used as a cushion and a scratching post, occasionally used as a battleground (I tell you, nobody wins a war..), kneaded in a way that would be endearing if it wasn't for the razor sharp talons ripping out chunks of flesh, and generally kept awake by their ADD behaviour.

This morning, while I was out, they knocked a bottle of multivitamins open. I have no idea if they ate any but they definitely licked & chewed some. I hope the only effect is a glossier coat & pinker gums, 'cause if they get any more energetic I'm moving out.

Yeah, I've missed living with cats..

horrorscope

Reasonably accurate..

I am an Aquarius.
(Also known as "Water Bearer")
My Horroscope starts like this:
" A hopeless and helpless dreamer, forever out of touch with reality, an Aquarius is ever lost in his own fantasy world. " (Read more | Find yours)

And the extended riff:

He never returns money he borrows, for immediately upon borrowing it, he spends it and forgets about the debt. An Aquarius constantly breaks his promises, and hates nothing more than working.

People born under this sign love badmouthing and making fun of those that are close to them, but always behind their back.

An Aquarius is drawn to greasy junk food and cheap action novels, both of which he buys in untold quantities.

His vacation is usually spent holed up in some god-forsaken bar, since he has spent all his getaway money on one of his uncounted projects destined to make the world a better place for humanity.

best site of the day

As recommended by Michelle:

Divine Interventions.

Especially the Judas one, with a tagline "If he could fuck the Son of God imagine what he could do for you!"

Christmas is soon, put your orders in now!

rant

So, I had a half-formed post about the Australian federal election I was going to expand on yesterday. But didn't get the time. Now I'm overhung and just found that John Assclown Howard won a fourth term. How fucking depressing..

I'm very glad I managed to escape the last week of that odious, vitriolic political shitfest though. Political campaigns are a bunch of arse at the best of times, and this one was a grubby, tawdry affair where no-one came out looking good.

God damn I'm depressed. I've chosen to live in that country for the foreseeable future and it's leader is someone I would happily punch in the face.

I wouldn't piss down his throat if his heart was on fire.

Fucksticks.

Update: In somewhat more encouraging political news, Aucklanders voted to ditch (the increasingly deranged) John Banks as mayor and have opted for breakfast cereal guy Dick Hubbard instead. I haven't really been following the campaigns but frankly getting rid of Banks can only be a positive move.

tequilamadness

Had a wee shindig last night. Just had a group of friends up for dinner and a few drinks. Which inevitably lead into a few more drinks.

Then some more.

So the evening stretched into the wee hours and fishboy got well soused.

But not nearly as much as another friend and blogger *cough* kurly *cough* who was drinking straight citron vodka from a wine glass in the spa pool, expounding on how great her sex life is.

Considering how she looked this morning - sorry, afternoon - when she managed to get up without puking, sex is off the menu for a little while.. *snigger*

Still, I can't really poke fun, I feel like my head is being excavated and I'm sure parrots were roosting in my mouth overnight..

Urgh. More painkillers..

back in the flat city

New Zealand again eh? Damn it's cold here..

Still it's nice to be back in ol' Christchurch. Mostly for the friends (although Kurly and Splarkey have brainwashed my cat.. bastards). But also for the accents. And the sports, by which I mean rugby. And the news, by which I mean rugby. And of course politics, by which I mean .. rugby. Well I am in one-eyed Canterbury after all.

But.. it's nice being back. And having a house to myself. And no job to get up for - although I did have to rise at 5-sodding-30 to take my folks to the airport this morning.

And my parents still don't understand what mornings are like with me. I mean they actually try to *talk* to me. And expect me to answer in more than grunts. And they think that I'll remember anything they say.

Sheesh, I only have the vaguest idea that I've driven to the airport and back. I remember seeing a pukeko on the side of the road. And the moon.

But that's about it.

Still, there's no blood or debris on the car so I assume it all went well.


Screw this for a game of bloggers. I'm off to have a coffee and a shower. Probably at the same time.

nz hip hop - stand the fuck up

Well that kicked some serious ass.

I may be getting long in the tooth and I've never been able to shake my booty (being a white boy I've never really had 'booty' as such) but oh-my-god does hip hop really twank my plank. And tonight's performances seriously kicked.

We got in to catch just the end of Frontline's set, Con Psy really giving it up to the very appreciative crowd. I've not heard much of them (nothing since getting to Oz) but the little I did hear made me hungry for more. Some definite talent there.

After a short dj break Mareko and Savage came on and gave us the Deceptikonz treatment. Deft and muscular delivery. Mareko has got some good shit there, and Savage as his wing-man worked the crowd up a storm. They talked with the crowd well, did all the things good rappers should, bringing everyone into the gig. When they brought out Stop, Drop and Roll I thought that was going to be the evening highlight.

Then the headliner came on - well P-Money came up first & intro'd him on the decks. Then Scribe rolled out. Not like your US rappers, full of macho wank, talk of bitches & ho's, gangster ass rap. This is NZ hip hop and there's a strong thread of humility running alongside the bravado, and several breaks to give honest thanks to the crowd. And oh man he has an incredible stage presence. He worked the crowd up with ease - had me whooping & waving my hands like I just didn't care. Such smooth delivery too. I've missed that, being exiled to the backwaters of hip hop here in Seedneey. Sorry to say but pretty well all Australian hip hop outfits are sub-standard. Hearing Scribe in full flight made that all the more clear to me.

True there's an element of 'patriotism' in what I say - not for NZ the country, the nation, the government, but for that unique NZ culture that I miss so much. This gig tonight has made me quite homesick and I'm glad that tomorrow (today!) I fly back to misty Christchurch to recharge my Kiwi batteries.

But I digress.. Scribe and P worked up a storm, perfectly tight together, hyping the crowd & inciting us to join in. P-Money had several dj breaks where he showed off his magic fingers (and that boy has an amazing talent) but never let it overshadow his emcee, no 'drum solo' type scratch breaks. Scribe was superb. He busted out Not Many early on and had everyone on that high note from then on, not letting the connection drop throughout. The crowd was at least half Kiwi and he got us to bring the house down on several occasions - and got a surprising number of Cantabrians (your humble fishboy included) to "make some noise" too. My throat is so raw..

Scribe saved the best for last too, bringing out Stand Up to a sea of waving arms. So damn cool. Had everyone going wild. The crowd of course couldn't let it go at that and we demanded an encore. Which we got - in spades. Scribe brought out Savage and Con Psy to join him & P-Money to reprise Not Many - like the tv video edit, complete with goofing around. In fact Savage jumped into the crowd near the end and never came back. Brilliant stuff. The gig ended with Scribe on the mic, off stage, saying "Savage has left the building".

So. I had an awesome night and didn't end up feeling old & crusty at all. I came away feeling enlivened and younger than I have any right to.

Hip hop is the music for the new millenium. Seize it.

Update: Via Dub Dot Dash here's P-Money giving the NZ hip hop community a kick in the pants.

blood & scones

Right. Original post..

Umm.

Nope. I got nothin'.

Sorry if you were expecting the usual fishy wit & spleen. Try some kidneys instead.

Having a blank head day. Probably the result of being tortured to death by vampires in my dreams last night. Not a restful experience.

The dream was probably my subconscious regurgitating the experience of going to see a friend of a friend's band (the aforementioned Blood and Scones - great name) 'play' (scream? yowl? wail? hmm) at a goth bar on thursday. It took two nights before my mind could face assimilating it into my dreams.

Actually they were pretty damn good - very tight & professional, and they were obviously having a great time (although as goths they weren't allowed to have facial expressions..).

I'm off to see Scribe, P-Money, Mareko & Savage from the Deceptikonz, and Con Psy & Forty One Thirty tonight. Now that should be a blast!

Aside: Isn't Savage just the cutest hiphopper? I mean, he's just so rolly-polly and has such chubby pinchable cheeks. I defy anyone to watch the vid for Stop, Drop & Roll and take him seriously as a badass rapper.

glee!

New Neurotically Yours.

Foamy fan mail no. 6.

You gotta love that squirrel.

a mind of two halves

Far out man.. I'm, like, so groovy..

I AM 55% HIPPIE! I am not a child of the 60’s but my heart is true to the cause, man. I realize that being a hippie is not just bell bottoms and tie-dye. It is also about the drugs and smelling bad, too! Take the HIPPIE test at Fuali.com

But don't fuck with me coz I got a bad side:

I AM 62% PUNK ROCK! The intelligent punk. Tuff and Smart. I may be able to maintain a train of thought long enough... What the fuck was I talking about? Take the PUNK ROCK test at Fuali.com

That adds up to well over 100% but then no-one ever claimed punks or hippies were any good at maths.

Except for the basics like 1, 2, F U!

fishboy's wild years

The piano is not only pissed but it stole my beer.



Tom Waits... charismatic story-teller with a
penchant for freaky people and unusual
settings. You thrive on the concept of the
underdog coming out on top.


Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

men at work

Many apologies for the inconweeniance.

Update: I think I fixed it.. If anyone notices anything wrong please comment or send me an email (thanks Claire). Of course I can't really do anything about the quality of the writing.

Frankly I think it was all Michelle's fault. My poor innocent blog caught some nasty comment-borking bug from hers..

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

sodding interweb..

I seem to be having some trouble seeing my own blog.. Although, as you can (hopefully) see I can still get in to post stuff. Is anyone else having problems? With their own Blogspot sites or with mine?

Phooey. Haloscan is borked too, at least from my end..

Fucksticks. I may actually have to learn stuff to deal with this.

*brain cowering in terror*

In Homer Simpson's immortal words "Get me through this, brain, and I'll go back to killing you slowly with alcohol".

mmmm beeeer...

Not till you fix the damn site!

Just one? To lubricate the ol' axons & dendrites..?

Ohh, ok.. But just one. Here you go.

Mmmm.. preciousssss.. Blech! Tooheys! Pah!

Heh heh.. sucker..


*shakes self*

Ok. It's official. I am insane.

I just had an argument with my brain. And won. By out-thinking it.

oh dear..

memeingful

From Vanessa who got it from someone else blah blah blah. Who actually creates these things? or do they spring fully formed from the interweb? Who cares. They pass the time..

Bold = fings I 'ave dun.
italics = my own witty (whatever) additions..

01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins ... there are tame ones?!
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula ... remember that Splarkey? Still having nightmares?
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris ... soon bro..
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg ... same as Vanessa: glacier, yes. iceberg, no.

20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby's diaper ... and don't even think of asking, Kurly - you know I'd get it wrong anyway
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment ... regularly
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse (even if it was only £1)
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse

41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day ... does talking like a pirate count? probably not..
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors ... hell, I only just recently visited my birthplace
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales ... again, there are tame kinds?!
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice ... heh, it was the USA

61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight ... many years ago.. and I'm not the heaviest of people
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetised your records (and CD's and tapes and and and...)
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day ... many times..
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it

81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman ... well, I've swordfought with a woman for my honour. And lost.
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie ... as "Conspiracy Theorist #1". I was shit.
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced ... pending...
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice

101. Gotten a tattoo ... soon..
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on ... does skin count? hurr hurr..
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music ... thankfully none of it survives
112. Eaten shark ... and vice versa
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship

121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a cheque
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did ... kicked Dubya's ancestors out of England. Yeah!
132. Called or written your Congress person or Member of Parliament
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over to be with the one you love
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery ... does reconstructive surgery count? I'll say no.
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
140. Wrote articles for a large publication

141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet ... had a gecko, that's about as reptilian as things get in NZ.

161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours ... ahh the good old days.. I'm paying for it now..
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad ... but didn't finish it so I won't count it.

181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologised to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language ... I'm counting cats as people here.
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196: Dyed your hair ... ahhh, I remember having hair.. *sniff*
197: Been a DJ
198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199: Written your own role playing game
200: Been arrested ... and I'm still not telling.

So. Plenty still to do. Better get cracking *wanders off to find a begger to chat with*

fishdolt again

An occasional (but ever growing) list of stupid things I do on a regular basis.

#48

Always, but always, I leave getting the laundry in till it's gotten dark and the clothes are damp again. Grr. Fool.

And (but wait, there's more!) every time I go to get the washing I forget to take the peg container. So I end up stuffing them in my pockets and sprinkling them throughout the basket.

There's barely a week that goes by without my finding a peg lurking in a back pocket days later. And all the time I'd been wondering why the chairs are so uncomfortable..

some caterpillars are just worms with identity crises

This was stolen from Pisser, who appropriated it from a bunch of other people, etc, etc, but originally it came from here. Copy, paste, & cross out the bits that don't apply. Kinda amusing and kept me occupied whilst waiting for food to arrive.

FEBRUARY:
Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy [yeah baby, you know you want me..]. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

Pisser's addendum was a great idea and I'd shamelessly copy it if I could think of anything remotely amusing about myself at the moment. Oh, I managed to punch Jason smack in the elbow today at karate. Well, we laughed.. while squealing (manfully) with pain.

I must away to bed..

want!

Oh man, I must be getting extremely warped in my old age but I seriously want this.

The Godfather Horse Head Pillow.

Fan-bloody-tastic. I know what I'll be asking for for Christmas.

(pilfered from Tam, as was the title)
PS Tam, if you wander by, your site keeps eating my comments. I know I should email you about it but seriously, my brother didn't even get an email on his birthday. Yes, I'm that slack (sorry Bro!)

warning: gratuitous bad taste

Well, I've only a week left at the department of death registrations so I thought I'd better lay out some of the stuff I'd noticed in my time there. Please be warned that my sense of humour has become dangerously deranged due to my work environment. Walk away now. You'd be better off.

I'll start you off slow: I had a guy who's occupation was "Circus Side-Show Operator", nearly as cool as the powder-monkey guy. Though the most inexplicable occupation recently was "Crane Chaser". What the..!? I've heard of ambulance chasers but that's a new one on me...

The number of funny names... Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me sane (although I'm sure some of you would argue it's been a loooong while since I was sane).

Like the town called Gympie. Well, it is in deepest inbred, roo-shooting, Abo-lynching, croc-baiting, cane toad-licking Queensland - so I guess the name is probably descriptive of some of the inhabitants.

More perplexing was the woman with the middle name "Pitchfork". I feel there is a story behind that name that we'll never know.

The man with the surname "Miraballes" had me chuckling. "Ouch" was another family name that probably got their kids beaten up on a daily basis at school. And "Boner Street" got a round of Beavis & Butthead-esque laughter.

Then there was Doctor Kok... *snigger*

Better still was the guy whose surname was Dick, first name William, and actually went by the nickname of "Big Willy". I kid you not. Oh how we howled (yes we're a callous bunch of assholes).

The one that really had the whole office in stitches and went into the BDM blooper file was the fax from Sacred Funerals. Obviously from someone new there. They'd made an unfortunate slip with the name and all the headings blared "Scared Funerals".

That had us going for ages.

We spent quite a while trying to figure out what happens at a scared funeral. Do they play spooky music all the time? Dress as members of the Addams family? Rig the coffin so the corpse springs out and onto the pall-bearers? Or just a creepy scratching and moaning from the inside of the coffin as it's lowered into the ground...

You could have a lot of fun working for a company like that.

Is it just me or is the Howlong Aged Care Facility just begging for a who's on first?-style re-working?
"Where am I?"
"Howlong"
"No, where"
"Not nowhere, Howlong!"
"I don't know how long, where am I?!"
etc...
Ok, maybe it's just me.

But there's the unfortunate guy who's last name was Bogus. I guess there's a whole Bogus family out there since he had kids too. It just made me laugh trying to picture the scene at the funeral parlour: "Are you here for the Bogus funeral?" and the like.

Then there's Stan Crapp Funerals.
Best. Name. Ever.
If I die in Australia I want a Crapp funeral.

And the best one from the other day was a series of unfortunate names that really did me in. First of all the dead guy's name was Norman Hercules Dick (yes, there are a lot of Dicks out there). That one got a round of applause.

But even worse, his certifying doctor was Dr Raper.

Ye gods.

Imagine his waiting room:
"Doctor Raper will see you now"
"...um, I'd rather not!"

Final nail in the coffin (hyuck hyuck) was the misspelling on the EDI identifying his remains as being disposed of at a Creamatorium. Extra thick and creamy. Urgh...

Oh god, I was a sick and twisted bastard before working here but I'm not going to be fit for human company afterwards.

But, like I've said, you've gotta make your own fun in this job. If you stay too long there I think something very bad happens to your mind.

Case in point the other week a workmate just started clucking like a chicken for no apparent reason. Quite loudly. Weird, yes, but the most disturbing thing was the fact that nobody else noticed! That was creepy...

An update on my working conditions for those that give a monkey's: sadly my workmate who had a seizure did make a miraculous recovery so I'm back to my nomadic existence. Next time I'm doubling the dosage...

Right, that's your lot. Begone.

ahoy maties

Arrrrrr.

Yo ho ho.

Parrots, patches and prosthetics.

It's talk like a pirate day again!

Time to splice yer mainbrace, stow yer bilge, avast yer scurvy dog (or amedium if it's a terrier), walk the plank, keelhaul the mutineers (did they have mutinoses too?), set sails for the Spanish Main, get the clap in irons, go friggin' in the riggin', and have a jolly roger. Um. Or whatever.

Questions abound at this time of the year. What are poop decks for? What really went on in the fo'c's'le? How come pirates always talk about their booty? And why are they always calling each other 'ho'? (Sail, ho! Land, ho! etc)

All rather confusing. Especially after a few bottles o' rum. Still, sitting down is often beyond me after the first bottle. After the second I usually have to hold onto the floor.

But it's a great time to trot out fishboy's crappest pirate joke (tm):

Pirate 1: "Where's your buccaneers?"
Pirate 2: "Under my buckin' hat!"

I know, I know, I'll get me coat..

how to get ahead

No, not a decapitation story (I have one of those for a later post). It's just that I now have a desk & computer & cubicle all of my own.

After weeks of being bounced all over the building depending on where there's space I now am settled, and probably for the foreseeable future.

Why? you ask. Did they notice my sterling work record and give me the appreciation and acknowledgement I deserve? Were they swayed by my unfailingly polite and pleasant demeanour? The wonderfully empathetic and professional way I liaised with funeral directors and the bereaved ?

Ha. No.

Much more simple.

The guy whose desk I now inhabit had a seizure.

So barring his miraculous recovery (get well soon Barry!) I get his area. And flash new lcd screen 'puter.

If I'd known it would be so easy to get ahead in this company I'd have poisoned someone with a corner office.

spring cleaning

It's been ages since I actually did anything structurally with this damn blog. And it's beginning to bug me. So expect there to be abrupt, inexplicable and annoying changes on a random basis until further notice. Don't know what I'm going to do but I just loathe the sight of the thing right now.

A lick of paint. Few new potted plants. Clean a few windows. Demolish and recycle. Something along those lines.

And the links sidebar needs a serious clean. Sorry for those who might get swept into storage: it's nothing personal.

The management thanks you for being tolerant through this process. Unless you're not. In which case sod off.

Sorry about that. It was my evil twin, really.

coffee or coffer?

I was the coffee, therefore I am now the coffer.

I'm home sick from work today because of some swine infecting me with his noxious little germs. The hazards of working in open-plan offices and air-conditioned buildings. And with revolting peasants who don't cover their mouths when they cough.

Serves me right I guess. Hubris. Only a few days ago I was feeling smug about not coming down with anything even though my workmates were dropping like flies. Except for that one guy who insisted on coming to work, and whose constant coughing has driven me almost homicidal. The main thing holding me back has been the knowledge that it'd be yet another certificate to process, and I'm already snowed under.

Phlegm.

That's a cool word: it looks like it feels when it's in your bronchioles but sounds deceptively smooth. Not at all like the green/brown hunk I just hocked up.

With that charming image to hold you, I'm going back to bed.

fear and loathing

I'm not much of a political blogger. There are so many others who do a better and more consistent job that I feel superfluous. On the other hand I have very strong political/social views and love to talk that stuff with people, a good natured argument can be an illuminating thing. Not only getting insights and different viewpoints from others but also clarifying my own position in the act of explaining it (I do a lot of my thinking whilst talking, which is why I ramble so much. Well that's my story and I'm sticking to it..)

Just recently, however, I've been avoiding much in the way of news/current affairs stuff. Not only do I find it depressing (both the content and the way 'news' is reported in mainstream media) but I've also been finding it almost physically revolting to watch politicians spout forth rhetorical nonsense, or read maliciously biased reports in the papers/online. From all sides of the political divide. I'm very much a left-winger but some writing that is obviously supposed to be aimed at my choir I find insulting to read. I don't like the feeling I'm being manipulated, and when it comes from someone whose politics supposedly correspond with my own I get very angry. I still have yet to see 'Fahrenheit 9/11' and feel in some ways that it's not necessary for me. I don't want to feel like I'm an extra in Michael Moore's grand political scheme, like an air-punching Oprah audience member.

But this isn't about that.

Not really sure what it's about. Now that I'm living in Australia I feel like I never really appreciated the NZ political system. Australia is becoming another United States, and politics here is an alienating and duplicitous procedure. I'm thankful I can't get involved in it because it would make me even more depressed.

I'd like to be a social/political crusader (bad word in the context but you know what I mean). I just don't have the strength of will (or blindness to alternatives if you prefer) to spread my agenda to the world. I'm paralyzed by seeing too many options, too many sides to the story. I don't have many absolutes, no religious tracts to adhere to, no political dogma that I feel so strongly about that I feel it should be imposed on everyone. Which means that I am basically useless in this world of fundamentalism.

But this isn't about that either.

Well, what prompted me to write this was the Beslan massacre.

But I've no words for it. I haven't been watching any tv news for months now so I have no images in my head (something I'm thankful about). But I've even been avoiding reading about it - not actively, just getting a sick lurching in my stomach when it's cropped up online or in the newspaper. Just can't deal with it. And feeling lucky that I'm physically as far away from the shit as I am. Then feeling guilty for that.

I'm at the same time gobsmacked and unsurprised. The former I feel is the proper response to something so hideous, the latter I'm afraid is proof of my being desensitised. I want to be outraged, angry and energised like I have been in the past. But this time I just want to make it all go away.

Enough. I have no more words.

fishdolt

I'm still not inspired to write much of interest here at the moment. I just don't really have the time to devote to lovingly hand-crafting a post for you. I hate to do things half-arsed... although I've become pretty uni-buttocked around here of late.

There's a lot going on in my head but not much taking any coherent form. And the stuff that does coalesce is probably better off kept there for the moment. I wouldn't want to frighten anyone..

So in a vague attempt not to piss-off the remaining few of you faithful readers (you'll take any kind of punishment won't you? god bless ya..) here's a collection of notes from the last few weeks at the death farm. You've really got to try to have at least some fun in this job.

*rummages through bag looking for notebook*
*fails*

Well, as if to underline what an idiot I am, it appears that I've left the damn thing at work. Sheesh.

*ponders deleting this since it has no content or interest for anyone (barring psychiatrists cruising for unusual cases)*
*decides to leave it, partly because censorship is bad, but mostly because, being a crap typist, it took ages to bang it out and I'd hate to get OOS for nothing*

So. Yes. Well.

Possibly to be continued tomorrow. I can see you all tensed with anticipation. Apart from those who are pointing and sniggering. Fair call.

best. site. ever.

Go play with the bear.

Bearskinrug.

And check out the sketchbook. Just brilliant.

titles suck

Yes I know I'm supposed to be shifting stuff but it's raining and my back hurts and I can't be arsed so there.

I can't think of anything new to blog about or even be bothered to pad out any of the (copious) notes I have strewn around the house, so I'm just going to unload a bunch of them. Make of them what you will. Some of them baffle even me.

• Most interesting occupation of a dead guy this week: powder monkey. Listed under usual tasks they'd put "blowing things up".
  
• Favourite Dr. Zoidberg quote for the day: "I'm swelling with patriotic mucus".
  
• Hoo-fucking-rah.
• "The boot, on the other hand, is only the size of a kipper"
• First rule of space exploration: let the next guy know what killed you
• Koala fingerprints are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans. Luckily for CSIs Koalas are sleepy creatures who don't tend to commit many crimes.
• Luciano Pavarotti's former manager Herbert Breslin estimates that over the last 30 years Pavarotti has "gained and lost more than 5,000 pounds." The average adult hippopotamus weighs 5,300 pounds. So Luciano has gained and lost a whole hippo.
• Like watching the Grammies with a really dangerous spider in your mouth.
• So is what you're saying, then, that our car has a smaller penis than yours?
• Your eyelids reflect and refract the turgid limnations of an eel trapped in the flickering paralysis of Chaplin's cinematography.
• I coulda been a contender. If it weren't for my crippling lack of aptitude.
• "Bother" said Pooh, as he was butchered for his penis and liver.
• A closed mouth gathers no foot.

And with that I'll shut up.

Blogging will be limited for a while due to lack of internet connection. Pity me.

Talk amongst yourselves till I get back.

quizzical

Charles Baudelaire: The Flowers of Evil. You are
one of the most loved and hated poetic works.
Death and decadence are important themes for
you, but none should overlook your impressive
aesthetics, either. Deep down youre not evil at
all, you just like to play the tough guy on the
block.


Which literature classic are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

git along little doggy

So we're shifting into the city.

Tomorrow.

Argh.

We have basically one day in which to achieve this and have done shag-all in the way of constructive packing. Lots of the shift-things-from-where- they've-been-sitting-for-ages-and-put-them-in-a-pile-somewhere-else type packing but none of the put-things-into-boxes-and-organise-everything-so-we- can-actually-do-this-thing type.

I hate moving, but I think I hate being in Mosman more. I'll let you know how that competition goes over the weekend.

The new place is in Darlinghurst which is much more Bohemian & grotty than this 'burb. Fishboy is returning to his people. Junkies, hookers, goths, drunkards & drag queens. Ahhhh, that's better.

Anyway, blogging may be limited for a while since we don't have a phone on in the new place yet. And we're both paupers after forking out the obligatory 4 weeks bond & 2 weeks in advance. It's going to be a lean week. Mmmm weet-bix for brekky, lunch & dinner. My fave.

Ciao.

fun & games

I am shattered today. Absolutely buggered. Partly from the rigorous house-hunting schedule we set ourselves, partly from a taxing karate session (trying to learn new tricks with the sai, expect many updates about stabbing myself & dropping them on my feet), but mostly coz we went to Luna Park last night.

If you know Sydney even a little you've probably seen the park - on the North Shore, tucked in under the harbour bridge. I don't know about the entrance though: a huge grinning face staring scarily down on you as you enter by walking into its mouth. I wonder how many kids have gotten nightmares from it?

I had the greatest time, some of those rides are a real blast. The flying saucer was an awesome kick, the dodgems were fun (although our group managed to cause total gridlock twice - go kiwi drivers!), and I loved the pirate ship (although I did loses a packet of Smints during that one, who knows how far they went? I didn't hear of any breath-mint related injuries though so I think I'm in the clear). Unfortunately Krys, boyf of Emma whose birthday it was, copped some vomit in the back during that ride which upset his already tender stomach. He sat the rest of the rides out and it was a good couple of hours before he got his colour back.

We did the best one last though. The Rotor. Basically just a big vertical cylinder that you stand in and they spin it at 70kph. But what an awesome time! You get pushed to the wall and they drop the floor away so you are stuck against it by the centrifugal force. I managed to get up on my hands and knees and go for a spider-walk around - doesn't sound like much but it was so hard. No-one else in the group even managed to move. I, however, did seriously skin both my knees and so completely stuff myself it took about 2 hours to recover. Also haven't felt so close to puking without excessive alcohol intake for years.

It may not sound like it but that is a recommendation. Ok, yes I'm a masochist, but I'm sure normal people like it too! Just don't have a big meal beforehand.

Right, I got to go iron a shirt (grumbling and cursing all the time) so I must away. Hope everyone else had a great weekend. Mwah mwah.

200 today

Yay! 200th post!

So I suppose I'd better make it a good one. Full of my usual razor sharp wit and acerbic commentary coupled with pithy, erudite and provoking insights into the unfolding world about me.

Well, that's not ever going to happen so get used to disappointment.

End of the week blues I guess. It's been a week of giddy highs and medium blahs. The blahs are worse than bad times in some ways. Times when you see the possibility of joining the other droids on the office treadmill, and staying on it for ever. I like to think I'd kill myself if that happens. Except of course that I'll already be, to all intents and purposes, dead. Another functioning component of Zombie Corp (Ltd). *shudder*

I always planned on avoiding a suit & tie wearing existence, and thank god I've not gotten that low yet, but I'm beginning to see that if I'm to do this kind of work then it can only be for short bursts. Else the life will be sucked out of me by the corporate vampires.

Admittedly I am in the public service (last refuge of the incompetent and all that: oh-my-god some of them absolutely useless), which isn't exactly the most interesting or fulfilling of workplaces. But then I think if my job required more of me cognitively I'd go mad. I'm only here for another 6 weeks and we'll see at the end of that whether spending my days pawing through dead people's lives is my bag. I'm already starting to have doubts.

But not all my problems can be placed solely at the foot of workin' fo da man. Oh no, some are of my own creation. Like yesterday when I spent the entire fucking day thinking it was wednesday. Or tuesday (the real one, not the other one that must have just happened in my head) when it was pissing with rain and muggins here goes and stands too close to a HUGE puddle of water just as a bus came zipping past. Can you say drowned rat? I knew you could. Oh well, at least all those years in the aquarium have completely inured me to being wet.

It's not, this week, been all bad by any means. Some parts have been just fantastic. But no-one wants to hear good stuff do they? Where's the pathos? The triumph of the human spirit over adversity? The fun of watching someone else pratfall? Admit it, if the Germans hadn't come up with the word schadenfreude we'dve had to invent it. Although we'd have made it shorter and easier to pronounce without spitting.

Right. That's your lot. Go home. More installments of fishboy moronity will be forthcoming. Oh don't you worry about that, there will be more... arggh...

Yay. Happy 200 to me.

Blah.

sad

Musing on the impermanence of things just now. Brought about by the discovery that Vanessa has shut up shop. It's no surprise really, since she always said it was a one year thing only. But there seems to be a bit of it going on these days:

Frank is still laying low.
Tailor's Today is sooo yesterday.
Porny Boy is MIA.
With Gusto has ceased to be.
Kitty Lifter lifts no more.

While I accept that people come and go in my life quite regularly this is a different thing. I don't actually know any of these people (or fictional characters, or whatever) but they all were/are important to me because of what I was allowed to see of their lives (fictional or not, serious or totally frivolous). And it's kinda traumatic when you find that someone you don't really know but who you've always assumed would be there has bogged off. Sort of like finding your favourite town weirdo has died or finally been committed.

Ok that didn't really come out right.

Meh. Don't know what I'm trying to say.

Feh.

Bollocks to this. Here's an online quiz to round off the evening:





Which flock do you follow?

this quiz was made by alanna

Now I'm going to flock off. (sorry, couldn't resist)

atrociously titled tuesday

So. It's a horribly evening, cold & the rain is fair thumping down out there. And dripping through the hole in the ceiling in our kitchen, artfully placed so that water comes down alarmingly close to the wiring at the back of the stove. If I electrocute myself cooking dinner I'm definitely finding a nicer place to haunt.

I'm aware that the cold we have here is nothing compared to the cold in ol' Christchurch, where it was snowing the other day. But I'm feeling sorry for myself so naturally I discount anyone else from having a worse time.

Well, today was pretty nondescript. After an interrupted night's sleep (bloody kookaburras wake up too goddamn early) and weird dreams (reading that 300 Love Letters site didn't help - there were at least 6 ex-girlfriends in my dreams...), the work day was frustrating & annoying. Too much calling of funeral directors and querying of paperwork. On the plus side I had some interesting deaths: my first mad cow, a medical procedure that took about 45 minutes to figure out (doctors handwriting = epileptic chicken scratches) and turned out to be one no-one else had heard of either (warfarinisation), and an 80 year old man with 9 kids but no marriages (must have been a bit of a Casanova 'cause the eldest was 60-something and the youngest in his late 20s. I won't tell you how he died...).

Other than that and my boring, mumbling, inept and, as it turns out, religious workmate trying to engage me in a spiritual/ philosophical debate (while I was trying to read my book! He got the rant for that... though I let him get a word in after 5 or 10 minutes) the day was pretty blah. I'm being trained by a surly Irishman and he's kinda fun to play with, trying to get a smile. I've taken to calling him Andy Won-Kenobi just to see how long before he cracks. You gotta make your own fun in some jobs.

Nothing else new really. Well, I discovered this, once again on the words theme. Who'da thought diphthong would only be number 50536? I mean doesn't everyone else use it regularly?

And of course there's this test for your reading speed. My results this time were better than the first time, but I think I might have skimmed it a bit:

You read between 450 - 500 words per minute. Well above average reading level. (The average rate is between 200 - 250 words per minute.) It is assumed that you did not skim the words nor fail to understand the meaning of what was read.

Interesting but kinda useless. Which is very much like me. Although I did kill 35 people today so it hasn't been totally wasted.

hinckyness

Bloody computers.

You've only my word for it (would I lie to you?) but I've just had several posts of scintillating wit erased by this bloody machine aided and abetted by the interweb. Mostly Blogger's fault: it took 6 tries to get the last post onto the web and even then it seemed to think I was blogging from the future (insert some witty reference to the Hitchhiker's Guide, blah, blah, oh I don't care anymore...).

The last couple of posts complaining about this (most eruditely and entertainingly) have gone where only the net gods can see them. So those annoying bastards will be having a right old chuckle.

My pearls of wisdom not even enjoyed by swine. I don't mean to say that any of you are pigs! Not that anyone could tell, in cyberspace no-one knows what species you are. Um, I'm just digging a deeper hole aren't I? Bugger.

Anyway, my dash is done.

I'm off to bed to sulk.

Here's someone else's interesting stuff:

Luciano Pavarotti's former manager Herbert Breslin estimates that over the last 30 years Pavarotti has "gained and lost more than 5,000 pounds." The average adult hippopotamus weighs 5,300 pounds. So Luciano has gained and lost a whole hippo.

(from Popbitch)