Think Before You Ink

Is he serious? Who the hell is Mr. Cool Ice? One guess what he was on when he got this work done. That’s right. Beers.

Is this dude serious?

Can this be serious? Here’s the thing about tattoos: they’re forever. Here’s the thing about MySpace: it ain’t. Here’s the thing about the bloke above who got their logo affixed permanently to his stomach: he’s an idiot.

On Loving Memory Of. Before she turned into a zombie clearly. Nice way to live on. Are they serious? Maybe next time your wife dies find a tattooist who can draw. Or is sober. Or don’t find one at all. Anyway, should be easy to meet new chicks from here on in.

This one’s actually awesome and I’m gunna get it myself.

Is he serious? Just a tip, fella – nothing looks worse than a man in a cheap suit. Good luck with that job interview.

Knight to Cheek Four……..

The work of the year. 56 stars, an angry dad, a story that included something about sleep apnia, and 2 weeks of fame. is she serious? I’m sure that will just scrub off with Clearasil.

All Work and No Playboy

After signing up, one of the first people I started following on Twitter was Hugh Hefner. I don’t have to explain to any guys why I did this. They already know. But if you’re a woman here’s the very quick explanation: I, like all other men in the world, maintain a belief that even the most tenuous link to the Heff – like, say, being one of 130,000 following his Tweets – may somehow earn me an invite to the Playboy Mansion for a party where I might somehow score myself a centrefold. Am serious? Yes. Quite.

But let’s reverse park that dream for a moment in the car park of unfulfilled fantasies (level 78 coz it’s chocka-block in there with the bottom ten floors reserved for special guests such as Career, Football Playing, Millions of Dollars, Moving to Rio, Longer Legs, A Full Head of Hair, a Premiership, among many, many spaces) and turn the spotlight onto the Great Robed One himself and how he speaks to me and many like me on Twitter.

Quite frankly, Heff’s Tweets are the most boring on the Twitter network. Mine are more interesting. Yes, they’re mostly lies, but that don’t change nothing. And this isn’t about me. It’s about The Pipe Smoking One and the major disappointments he is issuing forth in 140 characters or less. Here’s a sample:

“Mary O’Conner will be hosting a baby shower for Kendra in September”. I see. And Mary’s cup size is…?

“We’re watching a Poirot mystery tonight. I love the Agatha Christie series on PBS”. Terrific. Agatha will be undressing approximately when…?

“Playing gin rummy tonight with my brother Keith”. Yeah – you’re brother ain’t coming over with cards in mind

And on it goes. Endlessly. Relentlessly. Sexlessly! Is The Heff serious?? These aren’t the day to day happenings of the man who runs Playboy. This is the internal dialogue of every Joe Six-Pack devoting $10 of his shitty monthly salary to by a copy of a magazine featuring hot women in nothing by rabbit ears so that he can spend a couple of moments dreaming about how good it would be to be the bloke that runs Playboy! Heff, you’re killing us.

Here’s some advice: get yourself and the twins or triplets or siamese pair or whatever it is you’re hooked up with these days down into the grotto and start swinging those 70 year old hips of yours and give us something to read about. Coz right now we’re staring down the barrel of you first gardening and suduko tweets.

PS: Heff, the above is quite obviously nothing but fodder for the reading masses and has little bearing on what I actually think of you, the mansion, the girls and, obviously, the parties. It in no way makes redundant my constant party requests. Thanks. You the man.

Dancing With Myself

It’s hard to imagine the imagine the immortal words of Homer Simpsons – “Look at that blubber fly!” – finding a more entertaining format that Dance Your Ass Off, arguably the best TV show to hit Australian shows this year. The sight of a 17 stone African-American woman wearing little more than leopard style spandex poppin’ her way through Push It, exposing to the atmosphere folds of skins that had remained hidden for decades and scaffolded by a daily intake of nuggets and Pepsi is about as good as it’s ever gunna get.

So has come as something of a shattering disappointment to learn that, after only one week on are, the show has been axed. Are they serious? This was almos the first and only reality TV show that was entirely free of bitchiness, belittling, brutal competition that brought out the worst human traits in all it’s contestants. Just people dancing, getting good feedback, feeling good about themselves, and having a dance. Maybe TV ain’t ready for fatties that ain’t seen to be in agonizing pain and anguish pulling truck tires up hills or collapsing before a table full of cupcakes.

And what now for the choreographers? I guess it’s back to the Ashton Circus with a chair in one hand and a whip in the other for them. And the judges? Have any of them actually ever had a job? The casualty list mounts.

And finally, to serve up the final thick shake with skim milk instead of full, the show will be replaced with Two and Half Men, a show whose fat kid has lost all his wieght and is only now half as hateable. Which, it must be said, is still plenty hateable. And that’s the skinny on the fatties. Let’s hope they don’t stop dancing.

The Week’s Top 5

1. The Australian Army holds a sombre press conference to announce that a soldier has been killed in Afghanistan. Are they serious? Here’s the thing about war: soldiers get killed. I know, I’ve seen the movies. Apocalypse Now, G.I. Jane, Stripes, all of them. You know what they all have in common. That’s right – Bill Murray. No wait, I meant death. So if you reckon that you need to hold a press conference every time a single soldier is taken down in the war you’re in, maybe you’re not really that interested in being in the war in the first place.

2. The National Ballet of Chine gets ready to tour Australia and who do you suppose is the major sponsor? Correct – Rio Tinto. Are they serious? Is this why Rio Executive Stern Hu is being held by the Chinese government? To secure ballet sponsorship?? Is there nothing the Chinese won’t do??!!

3. Master Chef finale. Are they serious? You couldn’t have had more people crying their eyes out on that set had you lobbed a can of tear gas in there. Anyway, any bloke thinking he might have a crack at Poh while she’s in a vulnerable state should check out the way celebrity chef Curtis rolls. “Poh, I would like to invite you to spend a week with me in L.A. filming my new show.” Is he serious? Diabolical!

4. Forty years since man walked on the moon. Are they serious? Like we’re meant to believe that a space ship made of glad wrap, tin foil and a shopping trolley flew millions of miles through space with a computer boasting less power than a calculator and delivered it’s passengers safely to the lunar surface where they partook in a jaunty game of golf using putters? Get real! Everyone knows that you use a 9 iron on the moon!!

5. In one of the various pearls of wisdom listed under ‘MM Facts’ on his website, celebrity torso and awesome blog traffic driver Matthew McConaughey has stated “My parents have confirmed I was an accident.” Is he serious? Coz that still doesn’t excuse them. Boom! Shaka Laka!!

Su Casa Mi Casa

Lucky me. Last week I got to attend a cocktail function at one of the most exclusive clubs in inner city Sydney. This meant the usual array of indulgences, from women wearing next to nothing and the nice smelling chaps in $200 ties ogling them, to Master Chef-worthy canapes and all the free booze one could pour down ones’ gullet. Our host for the evening, a well known radio identity with an even better known saggy left eye, kept things rolling along at a pleasent pace, but not before he did something that is so der rigour these days it seems almost impossible to have a night on free piss at a hot club with out it – he started by ‘acknowledging the traditional owners of the land’ on which we stood.

Is he serious? Can it get any more insulting? I mean, sure, getting acknowledgment from a $1500 an hour host whose struggling to be heard above a crowd of half-pissed media suits chasing down finger food and a root is terrific, but you know what’s even better? An invite. A little bit of “hey, since it’s your land, how about coming on in?” Or some rent, perhaps? Not a lot; just a night’s worth. Or what about permission to actually host a $100,000 party in a place that you are freely accepting belongs to someone else? Or does placing the word “traditional” before “ownership” nullify that idea?

A little disingenuous, wouldn’t you say? Or is that dis-indigenous? I can never quite remember.

The Week’s Top 5 (featuring Matthew McConaughey!)

1. In Limerick, Ireland, the local faithful have converged in their hundreds around an apparition of the virgin Mary contained within the stump of a recently felled tree. Are they serious? While candles and rosaries decorate the venerated stump, thousands have lodged protests to deny it’s removal. Question – will Tree Stump Tuesday replace Palm Sunday?

2. Smarting from it’s buy-in rejection from Rio Tinto – whom it describes as an “unfaithful woman” – China has arrested one of it’s chief executives on suspicion of espionage. Are they serious? They’re the Chinese; they’re very serious. Anyway, it’s reasonably easy to understand the Chinese position – Rio Tinto exec Stern Hu is kind of a spy name. Like Remington Steel. Or Lando Calrissian, who was more like a funky soul brother living in a cloud city than a spy, but I never really trusted him.

3. Barry Hall retires and suggests he’s not not sure if he can be trusted on a footy field, Gee Baz, you serious?

4. A small piece on Matthew McConaughey has given this blog an unprecedented surge in traffic. Are you people serious? Anyway, expect to see a lot more of Captain No Shirts in the coming weeks and months. We’ll see who breaks first.

5. Michael Jackson’s former doctor has revealed that extensive plastic surgery on the late singer’s nose made it hard for him to breathe. Is he serious? Of all the dark secrets that Jackson harboured, this is probably one we could have all worked out for ourselves. As a general rule removing a nose and replacing it with a paper clip is not a great aid for the inhaling of oxygen. Does make it easy to carry around name tags at a party though. Thanks, Doc.

Below – The Virgin Mary Tree stump looks great in shorts

Oh Brother…

Hard to keep those Bush boys outta the news. Coz gosh darn if they ain’t just so in-ar-esting. This time it’s Jeb – brother of the Great Communicator – who has suggested that he “cannot say whether or not Barack Obama is a socialist”. Well Jeb, I can’t say that the centre of the moon isn’t made of nerf. And I can’t say that all the lentils in the world are in secret communication with each other and are planning an uprising. Nor can I say that I wouldn’t look ridiculous in a set of stilettos. And you know why I can’t say them? Not coz they’re untrue, but coz they’re idiotic.

Is Jeb serious? In explaining why Obama might be a socialist he said the President “believes government can solve more problems.” Hey Jeb, you’re a governor. I reckon a fair chunk of your constituency is hoping that you believe the same thing. Or are you just in it for the big desk? Pretty sure your bro was in it for the free burgers. Never-the-less, brother George did do an outstanding job of proving that government is certainly not a tool for problem solving.

Finally, the J-Dog went on to state that Obama “would not have got elected if he’d let us in on his secret plan prior to the election.” hm, which secret plan was that? The one to try and wind up the idiot war your brother started? The plan to try to outmaneuver the biblical corporate collapse your brother presided over? The one about environmental responsibility? The restoration of the prestige your brother squandered? That one? The plan to engage with the Muslim world with words rather than bombs? Stop me when i get there, Jeb. The open government one? The vegie patch in the White House grounds?

Here’s the thing Jeb – Shut up. And here’s one more thing – I actually do look fantastic in stilettos.

The Backside of NRL

I guess I should count myself lucky. The last time I was found wandering disoriented and naked in a hotel foyer, drunk out of my mind, having just taken a shit in a corridor, I escaped a fine and banning from playing rugby again. Fortunately my almost spotless record of public defecation bought me some leniency. That and a sympathetic jury (the trick was stacking it with Dutch people). Got off with a warning and a contract as spokesperson for Huggies.

Not so for Nate Myles, the latest in a never ending conga line of disgraced NRL players. Are they serious in that sport? Say what you like about Mike Tyson – at least he’s toilet trained. Between the various allegations of rape and sexual misconduct, the drunken shinanegans and scandal, and the sport’s almost complete absence of necks, NRL at times appears more like a snuff movie than a genuine national sport.

Anyway, while taking a crap in public might yet prove the easiest way of checking players for performance enhancing drugs, Myles and no doubt a few more of his backward ball tossing mates had better hope that the carpet in the dole office is stain proofed – coz that’s where they’re a-headed. Which is a shame. Much better to keep them contained within the rectangle field where they can flatten each other’s noses and double the size of each others ears with impunity.

Japanese Movie Genius

The Japanese have done it again. Mouth chainsaws, armpit katanas, fried shrimp weapons, buildings that bleed, something about arse swords – are they serious? RoboGeisha is here. It doesn’t get better! Check it out:

Things I Saw in the Street

This is a home air hockey table that someone had left in the street to be destroyed and taken away as garbage. Are they serious? Hello…..? Best game ever!! What the hell is wrong with kids? Or anyone else for that matter?

Check out this bike. Is he serious? Best thing ever

Took these photos of people while i was shopping in town last weekend. It’s people out in public in tracksuit pants. Not velor P-Diddy ‘pulling bitches’ track suits. Just tracksuits. Are they serious? It’s not acceptable to wear this stuff out of the house. I don’t even think it’s appropriate gym wear anymore, is it? One bloke was waiting to be let in to the theatre. The theatre! Basically, if you wear ‘trackies’ out in public you’re asking the world “hey, what is the absolutely fastest route to KFC, DFO and whatever else that’s cheap and brainless and can be blabbered out in short mono-syllabic letters instead of three whole exhausting words. And by the way, this whole life thing, I give up”. (NOTE: It’s not always a good idea to roam the city streets taking photos of people, especially those in tracksuits who, given the lightweight fabric and roomy cut, allows it’s wearers to run fast than, let’s say, an amateur photographer wearing skinny jeans and flat Converse.)