Put Down The Chicken Wing

Let me begin by stating the obvious- I'm a thin guy.

I need to take a moment to address the ugly-slut-salesgirl who recently told me,

"...if a size 28 pair of jeans are too big you must be anorexic..."

I hope you choke on a chicken bone, I hope the bone cuts into your throat, I hope the ambulance called for you breaks down, and I hope you die a slow painful death on your kitchen floor surrounded by the KFC Family Feast you were eating all by yourself.

Its not ok for me to tell an overweight person to "Put down the chicken wing", and I would never dream of doing that. So why do people feel that's its ok to tell me that I look sick and should be eating more. I eat plenty you nosy c***s.

The only person who can tell me to eat more is my Nonna because she carries a flick knife and I really don't want to mess with her.

I just needed to get that out of my system.

"I'll take the large bucket of cholesterol and a small diet coke."

Numbers Don't Lie, But I Do

After much deliberation I decided to install a web counter on my blog today.

I had to fight back the urge to set the initial reading on the counter at 678. Why 678? Well I thought it was a number that would make it appear as if I was popular- but still be somewhat realistic. Instead I settled on 21 as a starting point, it's my favorite number and a much more conservative lie.

While I'm on the topic of lies let me address one other issue. A few reader may have had the opportunity to read a post that I wrote after returning home traumatized on Friday night. This post has since been removed. It involved me being stalked by an 'interesting' character on Friday night which resulted in me weaving a tangled web of lies to avoid having to be blunt and honest with the 'interesting' young man who was very eager to 'have coffee' with me.

I just wanted to point out that the post was not removed to spare myself any complications relating to the web of lies I told. I removed it because I got a sudden case of the guilts, I had posted the real name and image of someone without their permission- and although this 'interesting' character would probably never have seen the blog it just didn't seem right.

For those of you who missed the post don't feel left out- many stories are sure to emerge as a result of my 'truth interpretation' that night. Stay tuned.

This is not a great photo of me. Bad lighting.

Strange Obsession With Vests

I often find myself thinking, at what point did Disney stop making good cartoons?

There was a golden era during my childhood- The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Beauty & The Beast, The Lion King. So many good memories. I actually think seeing Aladdin shirtless made me realize I was gay, it also started my strange obsession with vests- but that's a whole other story. These four movies in particular still stand up today as classics, sure they are crude and watered down versions of classic stories, but they are classics none the less.

In recent years there has been the obvious success of the Disney/Pixar films and I'll admit that I have enjoyed some of these movies, but lets get one thing straight they are not Disney movies. Disney made a very clever decision and paid a s***load of money to put their name on some cutting edge kids movies that weren't steaming piles of c***.

It is possible that my ill feelings towards the Disney corporation soured during the time when it was being run by arrogant conservative moron Michael Eisner, but putting that aside has anyone seen a good Disney cartoon in the last 5 years? Did anyone actually watch 'The Emperor's New Grove' or 'Treasure Planet'?

I rest my case.

The most entertaining Disney related cartoon I've seen in recent times is posted below.





And finally, there is no way I could finish this post without a picture of my perfect man.

It is perfectly normal to be in love with a cartoon character.

Don't Drink The Water

Can someone lend me some self-esteem? I seem to have run out.

On three separate occasions today I have been beaten down/insulted. If it happens one more time there may be an unfortunate incident involving me poisoning Melbourne's water supply.

#1 The optometrist:

If I were to show you a picture of me standing with my older brother and sister it would be blindingly obvious that I got the left over DNA from my family. I'm basically the defective child, case in point- my eye sight. To quote my optometrist, I have the eyesight of a 60 year old woman, which considering I'm a 22 year old man- is quite distressing. This fact is not new to me, so when I went to get my glasses updated today I was expecting the usual eyesight related insults. However I didn't expect to hear this,

"You should probably get some thick rimmed glasses to help cover those dark bags under your eyes."


#2 The Workmate:

Later in the day I thought I'd stop past my old workplace to see what was going on. I bumped into to Larraine, the slightly deranged woman who works on Fridays. As I approached the counter I was greeted with this,

"Hi Michael, wow you look thin. I mean you were always skinny but you look really sickly. How are you feeling?"


#3 The Hairdresser:

In other genetic defect related news I was also blessed with an unattractive receding hairline as well as having many grey hairs at the age of 22. It's something I am aware of, and I'm used to hairdressers commenting on it, I'm accustomed to their complete and utter lack of tact. Today the lovely young lady cutting my hair went one step further,

"Ooo, look at all your grey hairs, I've never seen this many on someone so young before! Candice- come over here and look at how many grey hairs this guy has!"


Why do people feel the need to put others down to make themselves feel better?

...

The optometrist can barely walk upright, she has these little stumpy legs that struggle to support her bodyweight so she waddles around like a drunken penguin bumping into everything in her path.

Nice work Larraine, lets state the obvious, I'm thin- and your a f***ing loser. At 50 years of age I hope my life involves more that serving popcorn to senior citizens. No one likes you.

As for the hairdresser how is she supposed to know right from wrong? She obviously spent all her time at school giving $2 blowjobs behind the canteen until dropping out at the age of 16 to pursue a lucrative hairdressing career in the western suburbs.

...

That didn't make me feel any better.

Thirsty?

UPDATE!

After this fantiastic trio of insults I honestly thought I had reached my quota for the day. How wrong I was.

Enter Nonna.

Within 30 seconds of my dear old Nonna arriving at my house she had managed to reiterate all three insults in her own special brand of aggressive broken English.

"Ah Michello, why you look so tired and sick, you no eat enough skinny! Ahh- what is this ugly hair?"

This warm greeting was accompanied by a sharp blow to the back of my head.

I love you too Nonna.

(Brackets)

Approximately 5 - 10 times a day I find myself on the phone to my friend Mona, we tend to chat about everything, ranging from the ignorance of the Howard government to the latest Happy Meal Toy available at McDonalds.

One evening last week while engrossed in a conversation about the importance of sushi in modern Australasian cuisine my focus temporarily shifted away from our discussion and I realised that I was sitting in my wardrobe, with the doors closed. In other words I was literally in the closet.

When I interrupted the sushi debate to tell Mona that throughout our phone conversation I had unconsciously wandered into the 'closet' sat down and pulled the door closed she reminded me that I actually did this all the time. As I sat there and thought about it I realised that she was right. I often hang up the phone and crawl out of my closet without giving it a moments thought.

This habit started back when I was living at my previous residence. For 2 years I enjoyed the luxury of a walk in closet. It had enough room for all my clothes and shoes, a chest of drawers, a lamp and a bean bag- so it was actually a mini dressing room. I began taking phone calls in the closet because it was so cozy and it was more insulated and private- this was during the time when I was too scared to say the word gay in my house for fear of my family hearing me. So from that point on I have been spending a lot of time in the closet, despite the fact that it is much more cramped in my new house.

So that brings me to an interesting question. Am I simply in the closet (sitting next to my shoes,) because I'm still in the closet (not out to my family)? Or am I in the closet (not out) because I like being in the closet (with the shoes)?

Any thoughts or comments- besides telling me I used too many brackets- are welcome.

For authenticity purposes I wrote this while sitting in the closet with my laptop. I think I may have discovered the reason for the constant dull pain in my left hip... but on the bright side I found a set of cufflinks that have been missing for six months.

Oprah's closet. Money can buy happiness.

Everyone Dies

A am a changed man. I managed to keep away from the blog during my critical assignment period.

I resisted the urge to write about numerous things, like the fact that my mobile phone is a piece of s*** (never buy a phone from e-bay), and the joys of cutting my toenails (I think I actually wore out a set of nail clippers.) Don't be fooled, I still did a lot of procrastinating- it just didn't involve any blogging.

Those of you who know me well will be aware of my love for 'stuff', and more specifically my love for 'free stuff'. This weekend I was lucky enough to be given free tickets to the theatre, which provided me the perfect opportunity to abandon my studies for a couple of hours and still feel like I was being intellectual, how is this possible you ask? I saw me some Shakespeare on the Saturday! I went to see the Bell Shakespeare Company's production of 'The Tempest' and I loved it, but more importantly I actually understood it without having to read the idiots guide.

I've always liked Shakespeare, the stories are so juicy. Take for example Macbeth, its basically The Bold & The Beautiful without the daytime censorship. Hamlet is even better, everyone dies! Death is so much better when its happens repeatedly and in quick succession.

After seeing 'The Tempest' I was telling a friend (loose interpretation of the word) about my love for the juicy/slutty/violent nature of Shakespeare and suddenly he began to berate me for my, and I quote;

"...Over simplified uneducated interpretation of classic literature..."

He went on that I,

"...Only appreciate the lowest common denominator in humour."

Then added that,

"Being crass and childish wouldn't get me through life."

and finished with,

"Ner ner ne ner ner," ...or something like that.

I didn't reply. I just smiled and nodded, poor guy is obviously suffering the crippling after effects of having and incestuous relationship with his father.

So in the spirit of that conversation I present to you the following clip entitled,

"Grandma Teaches Us How To Give Head."

Enjoy.

'Great quantities of saliva'. That was educational.

3.2 Lucky Readers

So I haven't Blogged in a while.

It's not like my life has stopped providing me with endless moronic stories and random thoughts to share with you, it's just that living in the real world temporarily distracted me from the blog.

It will never happen again. Ok that's a lie it definitely will happen again at some stage.

I suppose that in this instance I'm using the "busy life" excuse just like when I bump into friends that I have neglected for months. Sure life is busy, it's always busy, but the bigger issue is my (sometimes socially crippling) laziness.

Luckily for the 3.2 people who now read this blog my laziness has been overtaken by a much more powerful force- procrastination. I have an assignment due in a couple of days so stay tuned for lots of posts written in the time I should be spending putting together a major piece of assessment.

Peace Out.

Looking at this picture makes me want to sit down and do some serious thinking about where my life is headed. It also makes me want to sit down and eat a large bowl of potato salad- go figure?