Listening To: SkitzMix 9 : Nick Skitz

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Oh Please, Stop the Pain !

Quote of The Day
Proleboy Dammit, I keep losing my stack pointer somewhere in fat_mount(). :(
Chigga I had the same problem the last time we went to Penrith Panthers !

Todays discussion is prompted in part by Stephs latest post over at MuchAdo, discussing (among other things), dud roots. For our non-antipodean friends, a “dud root” is otherwise known as a “bad shag”, “unfulfilling horizontal refreshment” or simply unsatisfying sex.

The thing about dud roots is - lets face it – we’ve aaaall had at least one at some point, haven’t we ? Unless you’re either very lucky, a liar, or have the ability to get off in 30 seconds flat & don’t care in the slightest whether your partner climaxes or not, it’s bound to happen to you sooner or later. At this point I could relate to you some of the horror stories I’ve experienced during the days of my own mispent youth, but I won’t. Fekkit … comedy value …. might as well huh ?

The first time I personally experienced a dud root was actually the very second time I ever had sex in my life. Indeed, the first time wasn’t that crash hot either, but I’ve gone into that elsewhere so we won’t cover it here again.  The girl in question was an online accquaintence (warning bells already hehe) in the days before the ‘Net; in other words someone I’d met through a local Sydney chat BBS.

The board shall remain nameless, suffice to say it could support a whopping 15 or so simultaneous connections at speeds of up to 2400 baud (eventually upgraded to 9600) through multiple dial-in lines, and ran on a highly modified MBBS back-end. I think Nick Skitz was actually a semi-regular user there during his teen years, and I know JimmyZ (of Nova 96.9 fame) was actually one of the sysops for a time, along with his brother. Know which board I’m talking about yet kids ? ;-)

I met this particular chica through one of the boards’ offline Yum Cha get-togethers at The Noodle Bowl in Coogee (the same restaurant that was later closed down for infecting some of its patrons with hepatitis via dodgey prawns !). The thing which instantly attracted me to her at the time was that she had a strikingly deep, sexy, smoldering voice (no – this isn’t heading where you think it’s heading gang – no Chix With Dicksâ„¢ involved in this story !). For the sake of protecting her identity and saving her from any further embarrassment (not that she’s ever likely to read this blog), for the remainder of this narrative we’ll refer to this girl by her old online nick – “ValkYrie”.

So anyways, ValkYrie and I hit it off instantly at the Yum Cha thing. Much to the annoyance of W1Z, the bald bisexual male-midget and ex-Telstra techo who had a bit of a thing for yours truly I might add, but I definitely wasn’t gonna go there ! I found out she was actually a fellow student at my uni, albeit one of those rare and bizarre people (you have to remember at the time Macquarie was still a true “Arts Campus” in every sense, and not filled with Asian full-fee students like it is today) who didn’t spend all day hanging out at the Union bar drinking beer or mulling up on the outdoors balcony#1.

ValkYrie and I had a common circle of “online accquaintences” (including the excerable W1Z, whom we’d often swap amusing pick-up anecdotes about), similar taste in music, compatible offline pursuits, we went to the same uni, and we both found the other attractive in a hard-to-define, but no less palpable way. It was therefore inevitable, I think, that over a period of 2 months or so we would spend more and more time hanging out both online and offline, until eventually things came to a head (pun fully intended).

What I didn’t know initially of course was that ValkYrie had a boyfriend – Khobi – A.K.A “ObE-1″ … but he was a minor-player in the scheme of things. Even when I met him face-to-face during a particularly bizzarre dinner date to which my best mate and ValkYries best girlfriend also tagged along, this didn’t stop the girl and I from continuing to flirt (albeit more subtely on that occassion), and didn’t stop us from continuing to build our rapport.

Fast-forward 2 months down the track, and ValkYrie, her best girlfriend and I, are all hanging out at Valks place in Lane Cove. Her boyfriend Khobi (whom I’ve started referring to as ”kay-nobby”) is at work, or his parents place, or practising Jedi mind-tricks somewhere; who the fuck cares. The point is he’s not there as usual – which is great for me ! 

We’re watching “Urotsukodoji III : Legend of the Overfiend”; a particularly crappy Japanese anime involving demon sex, random amputations and a nonsensical plotline which nevertheless incorporates various obligatory motifs including mecha, a guy who resembles the M.Bison character from Streetfighter, and cutesey-animated teenage girls wearing linegrie. Their choice of movie I might ad – not mine !  At some point, ValkYries friend begs off, because she has to go home and finish a uni assignment (she’s studying at the Sydney Conservatory, and plays the flute … yes … I knooooow, shuudduup ! :-) ) 

We’ve been drinking vodka most of the evening, and Valk has been unashamedly copping feels for most of the night even with her friend there, so I decide to push my luck. “You know, I shouldn’t really be driving home after that many drinks” I begin. “Yeah, totally … you should stay the night” she responds. “Is kay-nobby coming over later ?” I enquire, and she just laughs in that deep-pitched voice of hers. Sweet …. I’m in ! We adjourn to her bedroom, and of course it transpires that I can’t sleep out on the sofa “because my flat-mate might see”. Damn … we’re just gonna have to share her bed … who woulda thunk it, eh ?

Foreplay ensues soon after, and ten minutes after that, out comes the weapon of mass distraction. Before you know it, I’m thrusting away to NiN’s “Pretty Hate Machine” – the Cleveland industrial bands seminal 1989 studio debut. Ten minutes after that, and my companion enjoys her first noisy climax. Not bad for someone who’s had a few vodkas and is only ‘doing it’ for the second time. Perversely, she puts her hand over my mouth in a “shush” gesture, and warns me not to “wake [my] flatmate, she’s got an exam tommorrow”. What the hell ? ValkYrie is the one making all the noise, not me !

I’m still hard, I haven’t cum yet and I’ve just decided to make it my mission precisely to wake said flatmate, so I keep going. And going. And goooooing … you get the picture yet ? We ended up shagging for about 45 minutes, with her having another 2 climaxes (faked or otherwise, I’m too inexperienced at this point to tell), and myself a grand total of none. She started drying up in the end, and this combination of extra friction, too much alcohol, her continual attempts to “shush” me despite the fact she’s the one making most of the noise, and random images from the bad anime movie she made me watch starting to pop into my minds eye, eventually took their toll and I started de-tumescing.

Final ’O’ Score – ValkYrie = 3, DisappearingBoy = None

Essentially therefore, this ‘session’ basically turned out to be non-event for me. Niave teenboy that I was though, I thought it might pursuade my friend ValkYrie to dump her Jedi-geek chump boyfriend and start dating me full-time. Didn’t happen though. She gradually stopped hanging out with me after that instead.

Not only was this therefore my first experience of the phenomenon known as dud root, it was also my first experience of the phenomenon known as “woman who uses you for sex, and then discards your sorry arse coz she’s gotten what she wanted”. It’s not only guys that do it to girls, in this enlightened day and age :-(

Now it’s your turn gang – I’ve fessed up, so who else wants to share THEIR dud root stories ?

#1 I on the other hand was, but that didn’t seem to bother her.

Listening To: Greatest Hits : Sheep on Drugs

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = All together now - Blue Balls for DBeeee!

Quote of The Day
Blauw If i die and i get reincarnated, i wish i was my girlfriends pussy
Argy Why ?
Blauw Then i would be able to see all my friends again

Well gang, it’s another shameless plug from me for some ebay auctions I’ve got running. Any keyboard players / musicians in the house, please check out the following:

Korg Poly 800 – {SOLD}

Korg Poly 800

Perfect for 80′s Synthpop + Trance & Techno. My first hardware synth, so it’s my baby … but it’s gotta go :-(

Novation XioSynth 25 {UNSOLD}

Novation XioSynth 25

The new combo Midi-Controller, Audio Interface & VA (Virtual Analogue) synth from acclaimed UK innovation powerhouse Novation. As luck would have it, I can get these to you at significantly below the RRP of $699 (and upwards) that most retailers in Australia will sell them to you for. We’re talking only $599 people … so snap one up NOW before my suppliers wise up and stop letting me have ‘em at this price !

 That’s all for now y’all …

Listening To: The White Room : KLF

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Toeeeey

Quote of The Day
GreenJelly omg this lisa chick and me are gonna get married
GreenJelly her turnoffs are Arrogant Guys, S&M, and Big Dicks
GreenJelly IM SO IN

In a similar vein to Dating – 101 Chicks To Avoid

The Ãœber-Geek

Typical Names: Tristan, Terrance, Phillip

This is the guy (it’s aaaaalways a guy) at your office that makes Bill Gates look positively studly by comparison. He’s the one that the other geeks (even if you work in a predominently IT environment) will dismiss as ‘too far gone’. With little to no social skills, a shirt that always sports at least one food stain, bad breath, coke-bottle glasses, a little D&D/LOTR/Warhammer/Star Wars diorama in his cubicle, and a scary Jessica Alba obsession, this guy is almost guaranteed to be desperate and dateless every Friday night for the rest of his pitiful life.

The Pros:
You never have to worry about him competing for the attentions of any nubile female co-workers, he’s always on time to the office (unless he spent a particularly heavy night downloading porn / playing an MMOG), he tends to have no concept of office politics which can make him a valuable pawn in your machiavellian schemes, and no matter how obscure the problem your server/system/mp3 player is having, he’ll be able to track down the patches online and get it back up and running within the space of a few hours at most. He’ll never go out for Friday drinks with the rest of you.

The Cons:
If you ask him for a favour, you will have to listen to his Linux/monty python/knock-knock jokes, his misguided opinion on the latest news story (if he’s aware of the greater world around him at all), and the life story of his latest D&D/Everquest character. Even if you don’t ask him for anything, he will occasionally come around to dispense bon mottes of his ‘wisdom’ (as he likes to think of it) to random co-workers, such as “you realise Mp3 is an inferior sound format, don’t you ? What we really need are Ogg-Vorbis players !” or “I’ve developed an algorithm for optimising our bog roll reordering strategy”. He’ll never go out for Friday drinks with the rest of you, preferring to stay back at the office and tie up your network bandwidth playing Age of Empires or Battlefield 1942 (never a ‘normal’ FPS like Counter-Strike) online or with a crew of lesser-geeks.

The Cassanova

Typical Names: Mike, Todd, Harry

This is the guy who thinks he really is God’s gift to women. Invariably he’ll tend to work in sales or client service, drive a red sports car, and spend all his days bragging to anyone who will listen about his latest ‘conquest’. He will also invariably be sexist, misogynist, have a receding hairline, and actually possess a penis the size of a (small) breath mint. All the pictures in his wallet of women he claims to have ‘been’ with are actually pulled from dating sites (if he’s even mildly clever) or porn sites (if he’s not), he still lives with his mum, and the last time he actually had sex was during the 2000 Sydney Olympics when a mildly retarded, drunken Albanian woman mistook him for someone who does toilet paper commercials in their country.

The Pros:
Generally speaking, there are no pros to knowing one of these sad sacks of shit. However, 1 out of every 100 office cassanovas actually deserves their reputation. These rare individuals are definitely worth cultivating the friendship of, as they will introduce you to bevvies of beautiful women they’ve “cast off” and which you can exploit for your own decidedly perverted ends.

The Cons:
Your female friends will shun you for associating with this dickwad, you have to listen to the same inane pickup story week-in, week-out where only the name and the hair colour changes, you’ll have to cover for him when he takes long lunch-breaks trying to “woo” some chick who will blow him off anyway, and the sight of his hairy chest puts you off your morning tea every day you see it.

The Office Tramp

Typical Names: Bree, Danielle, Chastity

The female counterpart of The Cassanova, unlike him this chick is more than just talk. She’s had everyone from the managing director to the mailroom clerk, not to mention all the competition’s salesteam. She keeps a vibrator in her top drawer and wears miniskirts to all the company meetings. Sure, the boss will fire her arse as soon as she starts to lose her looks – but for now, you can bet all the promotions are going to keep coming her way in exchange for the ‘favours’ she does him every Friday night after everyone else has left the office.

The Pros:
If you’re single and desperate, it doesn’t take much ‘spade-work’ to get this girl to bump uglies with you. Dinner at Burger King, followed by a Vin Diesel flick at your local cinema should do it.

The Cons:
She’s likely to give you a second-hand dose of the clap that Brad from sales caught from the Mexican hooker he had last time he was over in the States on a ‘product training course’.

The Chronic Masturbator

Typical Names: Adrian, Jason, Sam

Not content with flogging the dog over Internet porn late at night in the privacy of his own home like the rest of us, this wanker can’t keep his hands off himself for even the eight measly hours he’s required to be at his desk doing actual work. May or may not be combined with the Uber-Geek previously mentioned, either way he’ll be the one groaning to himself in the toilet cubicle next to yours when you’re trying to squeeze a curry shit out (the gift that just keeps giving) during the pathetic half hour you get for lunch. He’ll have to scurry urgently to the toilet again when he sees the outfit that Tracy from accounts is wearing for her RSVP date later in the evening, his taste in desktop wallpaper will invariably stray within the grayer areas of your workplace sexual harrassment policy, he’ll use up all the paper towels in the washroom, and any surface he has recently touched will be coated with a decidedly sticky residue. 

The Pros:
If you raid his PC after he’s gone home, you’re sure to find a juicy porn folder or two hidden (not usually very cleverly) somewhere within the darker corners of the filesystem. Depending on your industry and how high up in the office foodchain he is, you may also be able to read the latest issue of Ralph of FHM as soon as it comes out, thanks to his (company sponsored) subscription ‘for research’. One word of warning though – make sure you get your hands on said magazine before he does, unless you like your reading material crusty.

The Cons:
As already stated, you can’t shake hands with him, he uses up all the paper towels in the bogs, and he disturbs the zen-like concentration you need in order to have an even vaguely satisfying shit at work. Given his obsession with ‘self-abuse’ he’s also likely to be chronically sleep-deprived, meaning you have to cover for him whenever he gets behind in his work. Eventually he’ll develop carpel-tunnel syndrome or RSI in his preferred wanking hand and have to be put on compo, which will cut into the bottom line and therefore everyone elses perks and benefits.

The Office Stoner

Typical Names: Dave, Bob, Tracey

Whatever else this boy or girl maybe into, you can bet stonerdom is the overriding leit-motif which defines their personality. Whether they’ve just come back from Nimbin, or they’re heading off to Amsterdam for the duration of their annual leave, you can bet they’ve just got their hands on a fresh batch of skunk, or they’re about to. Their desktop wallpaper features David Chapelle or Bob Marley, their eyes are permanently blood-shot from all the cones they punch (two or three before work, one during morning tea, one during lunch, and 50 million or so at home after knock-off time), and they’re permanently trailed by a ganja stink that’s stronger than the Hordern during a Cypress Hill concert. 

The Pros:
If you’re into the wacky-tobaccy, you’ve just made yourself a new friend :-) This person will consistently score you the sweetest weed since that stuff you used to get off your highschool Drama teacher, and won’t even rip you off when it comes to price.

The Cons:
As everyone knows, chronic use of chronic can lead to short-term memory problems, aggression, loss of motivation, and impaired motor co-ordination. All of which means your new best pal may have problems dealing with various aspects of most workplaces, and can be downright dangerous if their job involves operating heavy machinery, driving, or working in air traffic control.

The Fundy AKA Hillsong Boy/Girl

Typical Names: Raymond, Henry, Fiona

Most larger offices will have at least one of these, and unfortunately even smaller companies aren’t immune (although if you work in a ‘sinful’ field like advertising or PR, your chances of running into one are thankfully reduced). The Fundy appears to come in many forms, but regardless of which particular religious strain they dogmatically adhere to (Mormons, Born Again Christians, Muslims, Hassidic Jews, Temple of the One Eyed Fruit Bat etc), this dogmatic adherance is precisely what makes all these crackpots one and the same. Although they’re generally hard workers, Fundies invariably find it hard to endear themselves to anyone but other Fundies. Perhaps its because they’re always tirelessly trying to convert you to their faith by forwarding you little Jack Chick tracts in your email or leaving copies of the Quoran lying around in the mens washrooms, perhaps its the dirty looks they give Tracy from accounts when she mentions her upcoming RSVP date, or maybe it’s just the hostility you can feel emanating from them whenever you open up a packet of “Uncle Liu’s Pork Crackling Snacks” at the office to wash down with your Friday arvo beer. 

The Pros:
None, unless you’re a Fundy yourself, or you enjoy baiting them with questions like “So tell me Fiona, if the Virgin Mary really was a virgin when she gave birth, does that mean Jesus had to tear her hymen with His teeth on the way out ? Or was it more like parting the Red Sea ?”

The Cons:
Regardless of what you do, they’re likely to disapprove. Baiting them may or may not also get you killed, especially if they have a bunch of cousins as religiously fervant as they are, and access to your personnel records.

And that, kids, is where I think we’ll end it for today – I’m sure I’ve pissed off my required daily quota of random surfers with that post ;-) 

Listening To: Endtroducing : DJ Shadow

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = A tad toey ...

Quote of The Day

ooze take a hot swedish chick from behind, bend over to her ear.
ooze and whisper “i have aids”, then try to keep your penis inside of her.
ooze thats swedish rodeo

What did you guys get up to on the long weekend ? IG and myself moved house. Two words – fucking nightmare !

It should have been easy – we were only moving 5 minutes down the road from Bondi to Woohlarra. True, there was an additional step at the start of the move which involved picking up a small amount of furniture from my self-storage unit in Castle Hill first (near my parents house), but this should have been no hassle for the removalists. I’d used them before, to move from the apartment I’d been sharing with the fat Wiccan chick and her two cats in Artarmon to Bondi. I’d been more than happy with their service on that occassion, which is why I decided to go with them again this time around.

Now, I had to extract the furniture they would be required to pick up from Castle Hill out of the storage unit and get everything else back before they arrived, so I got there two hours earlier to give myself enough time to achieve this task. Therefore I was definitely not impressed when their receptionist rang me a little later to say that the truck would be anywhere between two to two and a half hours late. Sure enough, an hour after the original designated arrival time (and 3 hours after I’d arrived on the scene, for those playing at home) they still hadn’t shown up, so I gave their office a call and got the receptionist to concede to giving me an hours worth of their time at no charge.

Two and a half hours after the truck had been scheduled to arrive (i.e. 4 1/2 hours of my life wasted waiting around at a storage depot) they finally turn up. They take a look at the pile of furniture I’ve managed to drag out of the storage unit. “Is not too much. How many floor at destination ?” they ask me. I’m not entirely sure, having only been to our new place a handfull of times prior to that morning. “Umm, I think it’s 5 flights of stairs” I hazard a guess. “Fifth floor withou a lift ? You fukkin kidding me, right ?” says the driver. “No, there’s no lift. I think it’s the fifth floor, yeah. It’s up the top” I reply. “There an extra charge for that” he tells me. “Ok fair enough. Look, Jack (their receptionist) was telling me I get an hour free since you guys are more than two hours late. I don’t want to pay any extra charge just because you have to walk a few flights of stairs. So how about we forget the free hour and I pay you for all your time, but you waive the ‘extra stairs charge’ ?” I offer. Unfortunately, this is where the situation completely breaks down.

The removalists start bitching about the free hour, even though I’ve just wasted 4 1/2 hours of my freakin’ time waiting for them to show up. They say Jack should never have offerred it, and it doesn’t matter that they’re late. They bitch about the stairs. They get on the phone to their boss and speak in Chinese. Their boss gets on the phone to me and tries to make me feel bad because I didn’t tell them it was going to be five flights of stairs when I made the booking. I point out to him that it’s not my fault, because he didn’t bother to ask me how high it was when I made the booking with him. He says he’ll speak to Jack and hangs up on me. Then he calls them again. They bitch some more.

Then the fucktards come over to me and tell me “so sorry mate, but we no do the job. You get someone else, uh ? Pay extra maybe, but you get someone else. We no do”.

Well sodomise me with a cricket post and call me Warney ! It’s 3 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, on a long weekend with not one but two football code grandfinals (AFL & NRL) looming … these little lotus-eating Chinese pricks know my chances of finding replacement removalists on such short notice are virtually nil, never mind the expense I would have to foot if I did actually manage to convice someone else to take the job. I just want to plunge red-hot BBQ tongs into the drivers eyeballs until they enter his brain, and dangle his offsider naked and smeared with pig’s blood over a pool of hungry freshwater crocs (true Aussie style torture in keeping with the spirit of the weekend) – but I keep my outward calm and tell them “no, look … that’s fine. Shit happens buddy”. Consumer affairs and the blogosphere will be hearing about this – no point in getting into a blue when I still have to figure out a way to move all our stuff today, and I’ve got maybe 3 hours of daylight left.

Anyhow, to cut a long story short, I ended up hiring a ute from Kennards and moving all the furniture myself with the help of my mate G and his girlfriend C. Turns out I was wrong about our new building too … there are 6 flights of stairs, but it’s only 3 floors (two flights a floor). Basically, those removalists belong on the Chinese Womens Olympic Swim Team, because they’re big bloody girls !!! If a puny specimen like me (and my mate G, who’s ex-army and built like a brick shithouse … but the point is he was the only one even remotely equipped for shifting furniture) can get everything loaded up on the ute on his own (the first trip) and up those stairs with help (the first and 2 subsequent trips), then the non-effort by A2A Removals is just piss-weak.

Let that be a lesson to you gang, and pass this word around – NEVER EVER USE A2A REMOVALS WHEN YOU’RE MOVING HOUSE – THEY ARE LIKELY TO PISS YOU AROUND, DEMAND MORE MONEY THAN ORIGINALLY AGREED, AND POTENTIALLY LEAVE YOU COMPLETELY HIGH-AND-DRY, MEANING YOU HAVE TO END UP MOVING EVERYTHING YOURSELF.

 And they’re big nancy girls too ! :-)

Listening To: The Best of NWA : NWA

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Uuuuuuungh !

Quote of The Day

VenomX Morgan Fairchild is scary
VenomX she is like 70 and she looks 25
Trimangle would you do her ?
VenomX im a sexualy deprived male working on thanksgiving
VenomX and chatting on IRC – what do you think

One word – yyyYYYYyyyyyyYYYYyyyyyyAaaaaaaaaaayyyyyYYYYYyyyyyyYYYYYyyy

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for all your encouragement and well-wishes gang, and for sending your happy thoughts my way ! I’ll post more about it in more detail later (when it all sinks in, and I get the email outlining the finer points of my ‘offer’); but I just wanted to let y’all know the ‘waiting game’ is officially over, and I’m very very VERY happy thrilled frikkin ECSTATIC !!! to report that very soon DB shall indeed be entering the racey world of advertising.

Viva la Bam :-)

Listening To: Ultimate Trance 3 : Various Artists

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = It Hurts, Oh It Hurts !

Quote of The Day

blazemore LITTLETON, Colo. – Colorado officials plan to
blazemore try a 15-year-old boy as an adult for allegedly
blazemore offering a Sony PlayStation to have his aunt killed.
FlipTopBx is it modded ?

OK, I should probably clarify that post title. No – I don’t want to be doing the wild thing with Vince Vaughn. Nor do I want ‘Victor Kiriakis’ as my real-life dad. I don’t want to have Brad Pitt as an ex-husband, I’d rather not have a history of having swapped bodily fluids with Ben Affleck, and I think the trademarked ‘Rachel bob’ hairstyle would just look stupid on me. I do however want to be the kind of character that ‘Jen’ has played in virtually all her acting roles.

Again, I should probably clarify. I don’t mean that I want to be a plucky, creative careergirl with ‘old-fashioned’ values at heart, who has a history of being attracted to the wrong guys, but eventually ends up with the ‘nice’ guy in the end, after a series of amusing miscommunications, mistaken identities and other comedic pratfalls. For one thing I’m not a career girl, and for another thing I’ve already gone through all the not-so-comedic pratfalls and found Ms.Right. Rather, what I simply mean is that I want to work in advertising.

Have you ever noticed that, gang ? Virtually all the ‘romantic comedy’ vehicles that Rachel … I mean Jen … and her contemporaries star in, always seem to have the heroine working in some capacity within an advertising agency. Ditto the fellas in popcorn-fare such as “How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days” and “The Truth About Women”. Halle Berry and her alter ego Catwoman also work in an agency, as does Mike Brady of the eponimous Brady Bunch Darrin Stephens the TV husband of the small screens hottest witch before the Halliwell sisters (only a madman would even rate the … thing … that is Melissa Joan-Hart AKA “Sabrina”) Samantha. I could go on to name countless other movies and TV shows in which the chief protagonist(s) work within this field, but I think you get my point. For better or worse, we’re all bombarded with so many images of how ‘exciting’ and ‘dynamic’ this industry is, that sooner or later the desire inevitably arises to see if working in an ad agency really lives up to the hype.

Now those of you who know me in person may not realise this, but I’m actually very superstitious about some things. So I’m in two minds right now about writing this whole post at all. I don’t generally like talking about things before they happen, in case I ‘jinx’ myself somehow. On the flipside though, I want as much ‘good karma’ flowing my way with regards to what I’m going to tell you as possible – and I can’t ask y’all to send your good wishes my way without giving at least a little bit of detail on what you’re sending me ‘happy thoughts’ for.

Our regular TROYL readers would know, I’ve posted numerous times about the need to leave where I’m working at the moment. Most recently (and pressingly) a few weeks ago. Without going into too much detail at this stage, lets just say I’ve been working hard behind the scenes, chasing various opportunities and trying to make things happen. It may (or may not) surprise you guys to know I’ve wanted to work in advertising for a long time (it’s one of my many ‘dream industries’). Assuming the universe decides to give me a break for once (instead of kicking me in the teeth again as it often seems to enjoy), I may hopefully very soon (knock on wood) get a chance to taste that dream. I could be Jennifer Aniston ;-)

For this to happen though, I’m going to get all mystical on your arses for once and ask you guys to ‘please send me all your good vibes’. I really want this – the agency job I interviewed for the other day – so I’ll really appreciate it if you all cross your fingers for me, and I promise I’ll let you know how it goes in a day or two !

That’s it – thanks in advance guys !!! DB

——————————————-

UPDATE: 06/09/06

So we’re playing the waiting game guys – I was supposed to hear back this morning, but a quick call at around 11am to the company in question revealed they still haven’t reached a decision. This is always the worst part of the recruitment process … the purgatory of ‘will-they-won’t-they’. Keep those good vibes flowing, people !

Listening To: Eternal E : Eazy E

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Mmm ...

Quote of The Day

hakan I hate it when the girl looks into
hakan the camera during a blow job.
hakan It totally destroys the fourth wall,
hakan which is so very important in a porno flick.

Well, for want of anything better to post this morning, I thought I’d share with you another of our semi-regular peeks at the browsing habits of of your fellow TROYL readers. In other words, here’s a look at some of the more edifying search-phrases people are using to find this site on google et-al …

Big Brother Fans
I’m still getting shitloads of hits from BB fans, although my commentary on this years series was virtually non-existent, apart from some early speculation about my potentially auditioning. To put it in perspective – over the last 3 months I’ve had 1803 hits from search engines. Of those the majority were BB related in some way – 1154 of them in fact ! More often than not, the ‘some way’ relation were sad bastards searching for nude pics of the BB housemates. That’s just tragic. If you’re that desperate, just buy a fucking Ralph magazine fellas. Or Zoo, FHM, NW … take your pic really, coz Krystal has had her tits out just about everywhere !

The only BB searchphrase I’m even going to dignify with a mention this time around (because re-posting them just encourages a vicious google search-cycle) is

saxon jo ashton want my mum

The mental image that conjures up is frightening, isn’t it ? ;-)

The Usual Porn & ‘Naughty Celeb’ Addicts
a lesbian with her tongue up another girls arse hole
albanian girls to be spanked
animal sexy fcuk woman photo
ann coulter nyphomaniac
arabian g-string
aussie celebrities uncut photos
aussie pussy
backpacker nude pics
backpacker party sexy photo
backpackers nude at scubar in sydney
backpackers nude pictures
big schlong pictures
big shags
bizarre insertions
blonde dress photo nipple uni
bondi beach topless girls photos
castle hill nude
castle hill nude sex xxx
celebrity movie julie delphie nude
celebrity shags
coogee topless -phone
creative delta goodrem desktops wallpapers
cute asian girl and had sex
czech fuck
denise drysdale breasts
dieter brummer free pics
dieter brummer gay
dieter brummer pictures
dieter brummer semi nude
female celebrities nude pictures
fiona horne – nude
fiona horne free nude pics
fiona horne nude
fiona horne nude photos
fiona horne nude pics
fiona horne photos naked
fucking australian teen girls
fucking housewives sydney
give photos john holmes cocks
holly valance in leather boots
jessica naked pics private website
john holmes cock pics
julie delphie nude
julie delphie photos
mark phillipousis ex girlfriends
mark phillipousis girlfriend
mark phillipousis paris hilton
mark phillipousis tattoo
merv hughes in leather pants
naked cock blog
naked gay white teenage boys showing their dicks with pics
pics of tim patch the penile artist
see my boobies
sex images champagne bottle in my pussy image
sex melbourne
sexy anglo saxon wench
sexy boat pictures
sexy slovak women -johnny
teenage country boys shagging
teens making naughty xxx home videos
uk shags.com

I swear … I still don’t run a prØn site … but I really should, with the amount of traffic I get for delightful search phrases such as the above ! This is only a selection mind you of the kind of shit ‘popping up’ (hehe) in my logs. We had a fair few g-string related ones, the usual backpacker sex addicts, a bunch of people looking for Albanian porn, a whack off … I mean whack of John Holmes hits (what can I say ? I guess word gets around when you’re as well-endowed as a certain blogger *s*), the usual Mark Phillipousis stalkers and a new group of pervs looking for nudie pics of Fiona Horne. Sorry gang … the closest I got was meeting her backstage @ Blackmarket one time when Def-Fx were playing support for Infectious Grooves. I won’t go into the details, but I know for a fact there’s no pictures around ;) As for the sick puppies wanting photos of Denise Drysdales tits (and Merv Hughes In Leather Pants) – that is really, reaaaaally twisted !

Desperate Horny Fuckheads
backpacker sex
bi curious sydney uni
bisexual desperate housewives
big dick for my girlfriend
bikie porn chicks
circle jerk clubs
horny single milfs
horny teens wanting sex
hot chicks from batemans bay
housewives looking for sex
lonely horny housewives
madamme jobs in bondi junction
melbourne milfs
package pants hand rub together hard bulge mine
parramatta nude massage
parramatta prostitutes
pick up hookers hotels melbourne
sexy teen suadi free video
show me your nude sister
soula xxx video
ulladulla high sexy girls pictures
where to buy scat sex movies sydney
wife swapping
wife swapping clubs
your ex wife
yummie mummie

I really do wonder, ya know gang, how Google ends up directing these people to my site. It’s not like I had an advertisment anywhere up on TROYL saying “Wanted: Madamme To Run High-Class Brothel In Bondi Junction. Essential: At least 3 years experience in a similar role, MYOB or Quickbooks experience, good references. Preferred: The ability to tell the full on crackwhores from the occasional junkies, and turf them out accordingly is a definite plus, as is a willingness to perform oral when needed.” I’m a bit disturbed by the fact some of the peeps visiting this site want me to show them my nude sister as well … especially when you consider I don’t even have a sister ! And don’t get me started on circle jerk clubs …

Chubby Chasers & Bogans
bogans with beanies
chubbies in mini skirts
gay chubby boy
hot milfs in penrith
jennifer tilly fat
knocking on heavens door happy hardcore
malaysia chubby & chaser
met a date while in the mall
nelson bay high school reunion
overweight kiwi
pole dancing classes western suburbs sydney
vs commodore ventilation problem
wog or poofter if you played soccer

Ah, there’s nothin’ like chubbies in miniskirts when you’re walkin’ through Penriff Mall, eh ? Pity you won’t find the solution to VS Commodore ventilation problems here though. In fact, I think this is the first and only time VS Commodores have (and will be) mentioned on TROYL. I don’t have a happy hardcore cover of Knockin on Heavens Door to download for you either, sorry guys. As for thinking only “wogs or poofter”s play soccer … screw you … I played soccer when I was a lad. Oh … wait … I am a wogboy. Damn ! :-)

The Vain & Vacuous
3 wise monkeys tatoo
a bob hairstyle with pokie ends
blonde tan nyphomaniac
botox bondi junction australia
bratz modelling agency
gay recruitment consultant
jessica alba diet and exercise
loreal men expert review
loreal men expert think
loreal men expert tired skin
male model name in loreal men expert
paris hilton and solariums
pornseries hairdresser
princess bitch face syndrome
scaring in solariums
sexy steps to make the guys so horny
solariums at bondi
solariums castle hill
sunbaking pressures to look good
who is loreal men expert male model

You guys know I’m not the model in the Loreal Men Expert commercials, right ? I mean I use the stuff, but don’t come to my site expecting endorsements or pictures of me cavorting shirtless in big tubs of it or anything. I’d like to find a “pornseries hairdresser” though … that would be cool ! I must say I’m curious to know what “princess bitch face syndrome” is as well … no doubt it’s a result of finding “Botox Bondi Junction Australia” :)

Plain Weird
baloons in chatswood
cats pissing remedy
cyborg evo force darwin
dr martens beetroot leisure 14 hole
drink from salma feet tequila dusk till dawn
eat sushi of naked girls
eat sushi off naked women
erotic assimilation borg
friday night live 2006 corgi poo
functional psychopath
from dusk till dawn wine leg foot drink selma hayek
fur coat heat stroke -dog -pig -cat -chinchilla -ferret -rabbit -pet -animals
gripley tools
horny older cougars with cock in their mouths
how to make lift gunpowder
mean girls mind games
mongoose ritual bike reviews from people
nay sydney lesbian web of death
opposite of nyphomaniac
psychopath functional
puberty humour
risingson fetish
young liberals weirdos

There is no puberty humour on this blog. Ever. Really … I’d never make fun of people with pimples, raging hormones and shitty part-time jobs at McDonalds ;) Corgi poo on the other hand … hehe … what more needs to be said than “corgi poo” really. I think we might be dealing with a few surfers who have a bit of a ‘robot fetish’ as well gang – how else do you explain “cyborg evo force darwin” and “erotic assimilation borg” ? Stay away from TROYL, you sick trekkie android-fuckers !!! *s* Speaking of fetishes, what the hell is a ‘risingson fetish’ ? Is it ‘erotic asphyxiation’ a-la the Sean Connery (“Rising SUN” you morons !) flick of a few years back, or something even wierder ? Tell you one thing … I hope I never get caught in the “Sydney Lesbian Web of Death”, especially by wierdos trying to make “Liftâ„¢ Gunpowder” with “Gripley Tools” !!! And yes …. Young Liberals ARE weirdos :)

Clubbers, Musos & Party People
1 tankstream way sydney
acoustic live unsigned sydney 2006
angel bar merrivale
bungalow 8 club friday night
bungalow 8 photos parties
cheap hipster vinyl pants
clubbin what it means when arse grabbed
clubbing dance moves
cohi bar
dcm nightclub sydney
does bungalow 8 have a dance floor
friday night for the rest of our life
funny life of a clubber
going out in sydney clubbing
goth club prague
goth club prague czech republic
goth sydney shrine
ibitha rave
italian g strings
jai rodriguez nightclubs
jbhifi musical keyboards
leonards tavern
little lost raver
m-audio evolution mk-425c
m-audio oxygen 8 midi controller cheap
m audio uno
midi controller parramatta
music shop parramatta midi controller
neotokyo july 2006 sydney
nightclub bosse sound
nightclub chicks kissing — video samples
nightclub grope
positivo – friday 11 august
positivo pics
rapture gothic sydney club
sam raver software
slipp inn
slipp inn establishment
spanish quarter sydney
sydney cbd nightclubs / 80 s music
tankstream bar
tankstream bar sydney
tankstream nightclub

See, now these are the kind of people I want visiting my site. Clubbers, party people, people who go to pubs … yeah … hang on … ‘nightclub chicks kissing’ … ‘arse grab’ … ‘cheap vinyl pants’ …. damn … too many flashbacks to my teens and early 20′s again ! :-P

That’s it’s y’all, keep it real and have a great weekend !

Listening To: Old School Anthems : Various Artists

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Nnnngh!

Quote of The Day

David Finally. It works. My Palm is working.
schnorks Now you can hold stuff

Looks like it’s a been a while between drinks again at ye olde TROYL bar, my blogfriends. Surprise, surprise eh ?

I haven’t been posting for a variety of reasons. One of these is the fact that the divine IG and I have just been to Europe for 3 weeks – Czech Republic to precise. It was fantastic to get away for a while and catch up with family that I haven’t seen for a few years, as well as introducing them all to the woman I’ll be marrying in another 6 months. You’ll find some photos from our trip at the above blog, including some very tasty shots I took when we did a sight-seeing tour of a brewery. Mmmm … pivo (beer in Czech). Not to mention some shots of me looking even f@*#ing fatter than usual … if there’s ever been a time to start exercising again now is definitely it, before I start giving Laurie Oakes a run for his money as Australias fattest political commentator ! Of course he’s already got one up on me – he actually gets paid to make and break the public careers of our ‘elite’ whilst hiding behind the facade of objective journalism, whereas I merely skirt the periphery of libel law as a ‘hobby’. For me it’s all about the love, y’all …

The other big reason I haven’t been posting is of course due to work committments – that perennial old chestnut. The last three months since Easter have been a real bitch, and the fortnight before we went away even more so, as I dutifully engaged in a flurry of training and documentation activities to try and get everyone (including my immediate supervisor ‘D’) up to speed on the tasks I’d be delegating to them in my stead whilst overseas. No time, energy or much congnitive coherence left to spare after getting home from the salt mine, hence no blog posts. I thought it couldn’t get much worse. Niave little me …

We came back from Prague on Monday morning around 6 a.m and both go straight back to work on the Tuesday – as you do. That’s when I find out that D hadn’t bothered doing the most crucial of the tasks I’d left him; to whit compiling our team and SBU performance & KPI statistics. Normally I collect, compile and report these on a weekly basis, as well as producing monthly, quarterly, annual, and ad-hoc (usually client specific) reports, analyses and summaries for various stakeholders within management and our organisation as a whole. Technically this is all supposed to be a part of D’s job rather than mine in the first place, but I was ‘volunteered’ for it by our division head over a year ago when D was first promoted to the position of our team leader. Nonetheless you’d think he would have made the effort to do it just this month while I was away. Hell … if he was feeling particularly ‘snowed’ he could have always asked the person who used to do these reports before I did (and who still works within our organisation, just in another capacity) to give him a hand.

But no,

D’s left the whole fucking pile of paperwork – all 3 weeks worth, plus the one missed monthly reporting deadline meaning no report has been sent to regional HQ in Hong Kong, sitting on my desk for me to try catch up on when I have time !!!

Great ! Don’t get me wrong – as a person D is a lovely guy, and probably the nicest bloke I work with. I’d go so far as to say he’s up in the top 3 nicest bosses/supervisors I’ve ever had (and I’ve had a few), number two being Taz (a mate of mine from highschool whom I did some call centre work for a few years ago), and the top spot going to a truly awesome man from Shri-Lanka named “Duleep DeLivera” who used to run the Diners Club Business Card call team @ C&R in Parramatta just before the tsunami hit South East Asia back in 2002 (?) and I got out of the call centre industry. I also understand that D has a lot on his plate, given that along with our team he concurrently heads up our small despatch department and still maintains his previous role of in-house trainer for our production/programming team. Nonetheless, the fact that he’s left all this work for me to catch up on now that I’m back really pisses me off, and if I wasn’t so into maintaining a ‘calm facade’ at all times (read “passive-aggressive”), I’d tell him exactly how cheesed off I am !

I’m still quietly fuming, and trying to think of what I’m going to say to our division head to buy myself some time to polish off the steaming pile of paperwork dog-turds which D’s left in my in-tray, when said division head comes over and drops an even smellier brand of horseshit right in my lap. Sit down now boys and girls, and let me give you the ‘gen on the latest travesty in DB’s World ‘O Work (TM) .

Without going into too much detail, our company has been trying to transition from one in-house data processing system to another for quite some time now. We’re about 5 years behind schedule, to be precise. It’s actually become a bit of a running joke, mentioned with self-deprecating sniggers at various meetings over the 3.5 years or so that I’ve been working here. After leaving the company for the first time, I came back and actually worked in our conversion team for six or so months of “staring-at-the-screen-all-day” hell. As you and I both know however, coders have poor personal hygiene, no social skills, play World of Warcraft online, and smell vaguely of corned beef and pickles – so I got myself out of that particular team as fast as I could.

Recently however the ‘running joke’ has come back to bite everyone on the arse, as our senior management along with region, have started to push for the completion of the aforementioned conversion project. Just before I left for Prague, yet another set of deadlines was announced for the coding team – the final, final, FINAL, no more exceptions, no more ‘crying poor resources’ (always a fair call in our permanently understaffed organisation), no getting away from it this time set of deadlines. “You poor bastards” I thought to myself, as I happily jetted off for 3 weeks of drinking beer and catching up with the fam in the sweltering European summer heat.

I get back on the Tuesday and as I’ve already discussed, I find out D hasn’t done any of ‘my’ (his) work as he was supposed to. I’m pondering how to negotiate for enough time to catch up on it with our division head, when she comes over and ambushes me with the following bit of wholly unwelcome news:

I have just been tractor-beamed back to the conversion coding team (albeit temporarily, but given the history of this project who knows how ‘temporary’ that will realistically be), along with various other people who no longer work as coders in our organisation, including one poor sucker who hasn’t coded for more than a decade, and a few people who didn’t work for us at all anymore prior to my holiday, and who’ve been lured back on temp contracts. We’re expected to work 13 hour days, 6 days a week. None of this is optional. Do not pass go. DO NOT FÇ•CKļNG COLLECT $200 !!!

OK, that last bit isn’t entirely accurate. Extra working hours mean overtime rates … but when you’re only earning $19 odd dollars an hour, the extra pay isn’t going to amount to that much (especially when you factor in Australia’s exhorbitant marginal tax rates). Besides, when thinking about these things I always like to keep in mind what my highschool economics teacher used to tell us “never forget to factor in the opportunity cost”. It’s a sunny Sunday afternoon, and I’ve been stuck @ work since 08:30 this morning. I could be at the beach, I could be going for a bike-ride to shed some Laurie Oakes, I could be messing around with my keyboards trying to write the next number 1 dance hit that will end up being used in a Heineken commercial, I could be getting drunk with my girl @ home or at the pub, I could be getting hot and steamy with my girl @ home (maybe not at the pub, although a porn career might be one alternative way for us to pay the bills ….zzZZT not!) … I could, in fact, be just about anywhere but fucking (butt fucking ?) here !!!

So jaaaaa … I was already looking into a career change before I went on holiday. Keeping my options open, whilst still trying to exercise some degree of selectivity. I actually had one interview just before we went away for a job which would have involved about a third of the responsibilites I have now (correction had – before the tractor-beam), but paid $68K. Didn’t get it, obviously. Right now though – I’m almost ready to actually ditch selectivity. I was talking to mates the other night, and together with my fiancé they’ve managed to talk me out of going the “night-shift security” route. I did pick up a job application form from my favourite service station on Victoria Road this morning though. I simply can’t stay here any longer. God knows I’ve been talking about leaving for long enough (almost as long as I’ve had this blog, more or less).

This time though I really need to do it. I’ll give it another week or two at most … just enough to see some of those overtime hours flowing into the wedding savings account. Then my friends I really need to tender my two weeks notice. Otherwise, I fear – to paraphrase Cornelius (Edward Norton) from Fightclub – “this buttoned-down psycho will stalk from department to department, armed with an Armalite-15, indiscriminantly mowing down friends and co-workers. It could be someone very close to you … someone you know”. Alright, OK … it wouldn’t be anything that dramatic. It would probably result in the most public dummy spit this company has seen in at least as long as I’ve been working here though, and dummy spits are bad. You need to retain at least semi-cordial relations with former employers for those all-important “reference checks”.

So with that in mind – Lisa, Mel, and anyone else reading this blog who either has a say in the recruitment process at their work, or can influence someone who does – if you know of any openings, please let me know. All serious offers, interview requests and “I know a friend of friend who might be looking for someone”s will be considered !

Peace out.

Listening To: A Crime For All Seasons : My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = S'Ok

Quote of The Day

Cndz what would jesus do ?
Josh probably get crucified and die

So how did you guys spend Easter ? We went down to The Bay to stay with IG’s best friend for 3 days. It was nice to get away from Sydney for a change and we didn’t get into any fights outside the Soldiers Club this time, so it wasn’t a bad trip. I did find myself slightly annoyed on the Saturday night, when the girls decided to walk back home from the town’s only pub because they couldn’t be arsed waiting for one of the town’s three taxis. It was freezing cold, we had to walk for over an hour when it was already past midnight and we were all in various states of inebriation, IG had painful shoes on, and if I hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have been surprised if the girls hadn’t got into a spot of bother with the pair of drunken ‘frat-boy’ types we passed on our merry way home, and who displayed a particular interest in trying to strike up a conversation with my fiancé. Still – all turned out well in the end, and we didn’t even end up sick the next day from the cold, as I feared we would … I’m just not doing the walk next time, now I know how bloody far it is ! :)

Speaking of The Bay, we have a freaky example of ‘synchronicity’ happening this year with BB06. Y’see gang, Karen & Krystal (the mother/daughter pair of housemates, and BB’s disappointing “world first” drawcard) happen to come from … you guessed it … the little South Coast surfey town that I like to call ‘Summer Bay’, and which the rest of the world knows as Batemans Bay. Not only that, but it’s fairly likely that one of them (I’m not sure which at this stage) is actually the very recent ex-girlfriend of someone who works with IG’s best friend at one of the local car dealerships. So there you have it … last year we had a housemate who looked like my fiancé (the much-maligned Gianna), and this year we have not one but TWO housemates who come from the town my baby grew up in, and probably know some of the same circle of people that she does. Is BB trying to tell us something ? One thing’s for sure – we won’t be making any plans for Sunday night for the next 3 months !

In other news, it was my birthday last week. The scary one – the big two-niner ! One year off 30. One more year till I truly start looking like a bit of a sad-bastard when I’m out at clubs. Not that it will stop me going out, even when I do hit that three decade threshold, I’m sure. Doesn’t change the fact the young ‘uns are gonna think I’m a sad-bastard though. After all, there’s only so much that Loreal Men Expert ‘Anti-Wrinkle Serum’ can do !

Worse still, I’ve only got one year left till I miss my goal of becoming a millionaire before I hit the big Three-Oh. Given I’m trying to save for our wedding, achieving that goal is looking more and more unlikely. Hell … I think at this point in time, I’d be content with landing a job I’m actually happy with before I’m thirty, and never mind the non-existent ‘riches’ it increasingly looks like it’s not my destiny to attain.

Perhaps it’s time to sit down and do another of those self-involved mental-masturbation exercises wherein I try to figure out what (if anything) is my ‘true calling’, and what I actually ‘want out of life’. I’ve finally got the relationship I always wanted, and (much to my own initial surprise) I really like where we live , so it would be nice to get that last little niggling loose end of my life (i.e. career) ‘sorted’ in the next year.

Yep … I’ve got a lot I need to do this year, before I hit 30 – the use-by date for ‘cool’ !

Listening To: Maximum Bass 2 : Various Artists

Current Horn Factor :

Horn Factor = Argh !!! Blue balls :-(

Quote of The Day

iibbmm Stupid World of Warcraft.
iibbmm I have no money, I have no skills.
iibbmm All of the hot Elven women are dancing with
iibbmm the big warrior guys. It’s college all over again.

Dear Monday,

Let me begin by saying this is the first time I’ve written a letter to a specific day of the week. Indeed it’s not in my usual nature to anthromorphose entities on my calendar, with the possible exception of Friday, for whose timely return I pray on a routine basis. Nonetheless, I’ve decided to take the unusual step of writing to you at this point in time because I feel there are a few things we need to get straight between us.

I’m sorry to have to say this but – I just don’t like you, Monday. To be frank, I’m not sure anyone does. Musicians from Sir Bob Geldoff (“I Don’t Like Mondays”) to New Order (“Blue Monday”) have long attested to our mutual dislike of you. One of the UK’s first mass murders (which inspired Bob to write the aforementioned tune in the first place) occured while you were prancing around doing your “It’s your Monday, it’s your weekday” thing. Shakespeare has probably made a reference to the odiousness of your presence – and if I were more of a ‘classic canon’ geek I’d be able to actually quote said reference. Hell … there’s even a popular colloquial phrase to describe the feeling most people get whenever your ugly head pops up, to whit ‘Monday-itis’. That’s right Monday – seeing you around makes most of us ‘regular joes’ feel sick !

Now you might be thinking to yourself “why me ? Why not pick on Tuesday or Thursday ? What have I done ?” Let me tell you why I don’t like you, Monday. You sneak up on people, for starters. Friday usually drops around by my work on … well … Friday … and I’m always happy to see him. More often than not he’ll bring a six pack of beer or some hard spirits, or he’ll take me and Lisa out on the town later in the evening to hang out with our mutual friends. Everyone likes Friday, as I’m sure you know. We usually spend the next day with Saturday, and she’s a pretty cool chick too. Granted – she’ll often insist we spend some time together doing chores in the morning or early afternoon, and she’ll sometimes bring a hangover with her to the apartment depending on how drunk Friday managed to get us the night before. Mostly though, she’s all about doing fun things like barbeques, retail therapy, reading your favourite books while lying around on the couch in your jammies, and threesomes in the bedroom with yourself, your fiancé, and Saturday. If she’s feeling frisky, she’ll also more often than not manage to get Lisa and I in the mood for some cocktails at home later in the evening, or maybe another night out on the town.

We usually spend the last day of the weekend hanging out with Sunday. I must admit I feel a bit sorry for poor old Sunday. Of the weekend triplets, I often feel like she gets the the shitty end of the stick. Y’see, she has a lot of things in common with her sister. However after spending a few days with her party siblings, by the time Sunday drops in we often find we don’t have a lot of energy left. Therefore she usually ends up just lazing around at home with us, though we sometimes take her to movies or to visit Lisa’s relatives, and we keep promising we’ll take her out to Sounds on Sunday @ the Greenwood (and I used to take her there on my own now and then, before I met Lisa). All the same, we love Sunday as much as her two siblings. Which is where you come in Monday.

You see good buddy, all the other days of the week have the common decency to respect the established visitation schedule. Not you though – oh no. We’ll be chilling out with Sunday on the couch, watching Law & Order or some Charmed DVD’s (she’s a bit of TV addict, Sunday is), when you’ll pop up with a thought in my head about the month-end paperwork we need to work through together, come the start of the working week. Lisa and I might even be in the bedroom with Sunday, giving eachother back-rubs and working up to the same kind of threesome we often have with Saturday, when you’ll butt in to say “Hello” and remind my fiancé how tired she is, and how much stuff she’s going to have to do for her boss this week. End result – Sunday and I end up frustrated, while you skulk off sniggering and rubbing your hands in anticipation of ruining our day again tommorrow.

This brings me to another reason no-one likes you, Monday. Nine times out of ten, whenever you come around you bring the start of the working week with you. Sure – you make a token effort every year to drop around once or twice on a public holiday or to work yourself in to our annual leave schedules, but it’s just too little too late ! I know, I know; Tuesday and Wednesday tend to bring work with ‘em too, as does Thursday. Even Friday, bless his soul, tends to want at least some work done before we get down to the usual hijinks – but we all know he doesn’t really give a shit and just wants to party with the rest of us. Granted Tuesday is a bit like you, but by the time he comes around we’re usually starting to find our feet again in the work week – and he never pops up early while you’re around to remind us of the things we’ll have to do with him the next day. Doubtless because he knows the kind of shit you invariably tend to put us through, Monday.

Wednesday at least in my opinion, is just the most inoffensive one of the lot of you. She might not be very pretty, but she’s certainly not ugly either. She’ll bring some work with her, but it’s never the armload you and Tuesday usually dump on our desks. Usually in fact, it’s just following on from what you two have already instigated. We even used to go out with Wednesday in the evenings to Trivia @ PJ’s in Parramatta, so she’s definitely not all bad. I know you tried to take over that for a while and had us going along with you to Triv @ The Union in North Sydney instead; but it’s just not the same Monday – I only really enjoy it when I forget you’re there, whereas I never had that problem with Wednesday.

Thursday often makes me work fairly hard too in a last-ditch flurry of effort before my lazy-arse mate Friday drops around again, but I never hold that against him because I know the end of the week is in sight. When I met Lisa, she also showed me a side to Thursday that I never suspected he had – an affinity for singing karaoke @ Petersham. Prior to that, Thursday and I had a long history of going out together to Greenwood (in my latter singledom), Castle Hill Tavern (in my late teens), and late-night shopping together with my folks (when I was wee lad) – so I guess I’ve always had a soft-spot for Thursday despite his minor flaws. You on the other hand Monday, are just a shit.

As I’ve said already, you always bring along a truckload of work for us and the other days to get through. More often than not, this is work that you’ve already hinted at while we were trying to spend some quality time with Sunday. If we’ve had a particularly good time with the weekend triplets, you’ll always bring a mother of a hangover too. Forget the hangovers Saturday or Sunday very occasionally have to bring along with many apologies. You derive great pleasure from your hangovers, don’t you ? You sit there in Friday’s workshop, polishing up those babies like great big gleaming turds, with all the dilligence our pal Friday reserves for brewing up some good old fashioned fun-times. Then when they’re ready, all hard and gleaming, you’ll drop by with your armload of work and your smarmy “look at me, I’m the start of the work-week” grin, and before we know it *BLAM*

“I have the worst hangover in history, it’s raining again, and the boss just told me I have three years worth of statistics to process for this client by the end of the week. Goddamn … Monday you muthafucka, how you doin ?”

There you have it. In a nutshell Monday, these are the reasons that I don’t like you, and neither does the majority of the human race. What can you do about it ? To be honest, I’m not sure. Not much, probably. I know you’ve tried various tricks over the years to get people to like you more. You’ve tried scheduling better TV shows when you’re around, like Supernatural (currently) or The Practice (when I still used to watch it). You know though, that when we’re sitting around on the couch watching those together, I’m still secretly wishing you were one of the other days, don’t you ? Christ man, you can’t even get that completely right … because that sexy vixen Sunday is the one who manages to snag Big Brother eviction night every year, while you can only ever manage to score nominations. You’ve tried the Trivia Night thing but I’ve already touched on that earlier, and you just don’t do it like Wednesday does.

You even tried dragging Lisa and I along to salsa dancing classes for a while … but you know they were just painful, right ? We’ve gone salsa dancing with Friday at the Spanish Club a number of times with no prior classes at all (at least on my part), and that’s always been fun ! You and your obsession with “work, work, work” on the other hand, took the fun right out of the whole experience, and had us worrying about getting the foot-work ‘right’ and remembering 100 extraneous ‘moves’ that no-one does in practice. Thanks Monday – another great freakin’ job well done !

I think perhaps the best solution for all concerned would be for you to just stop coming around. We don’t want to see you anymore. Send Friday twice a week instead. Or perhaps tell Sunday she can come visit us again. At least that way I wouldn’t feel so bad about being tired when she’s around. But don’t show your ugly face at our place anymore Monday, because you aren’t welcome !!!

Regards,

Disappearing Boy Esq.

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