Saturday, October 31, 2009

Trivial poetry

I attended a trivia night tonight. The night started off well with our team selecting what we thought was a suitably amusing team name.

In the early rounds we were doing well, hovering between 1st and 3rd. Then came a bonus round in which teams had to write and perform a warcry.
There were only 2 rules: the warcry had to rhyme, and it had to revolve around your team name.

As I heard this my eyes widened in horror. Guess what we'd chosen to call our team? "Green Ecology Limitless Magnificence."

What made the situation worse was that everyone at the table (computer engineers and scientists) turned to me - the Arts Student. Apparently this was my time to shine. Unfortunately I hate poetry. I suck at it, always have and avoid it like the plague. My two favourite poems of all time include:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Some poems rhyme,
but this one doesn't.


There once was a boy named Mel,
who used to write poems quite well.
The beginnings were nice,
the middles sufficed,
but somehow when he got to the end he could never quite get them to finish the way he wanted them to.

The devil talks in rhymes, I'm sure of it. But anyway, to cut a long story short, we ended up yelling this out a few times:

Green, ecology, limitless magnificence.
Come, bask in our Batman-like omniscience.

Yeah, it sucks - I know. I feel ashamed to have tainted Batman's good name by associating it with such trite. Batman, if you're out there, I'm sorry. If you'd been on my team I'm sure you would've had some sort of warcry generating gadget on your belt of limitless magnificence.

So in conclusion, pick simple names for your team at trivia nights. Eyes widening in horror is not a good thing. Especially if you're Asian. There's only so wide they can get before it starts to hurt.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

When I become Grand Poobah of the Universe...

...I'm going to replace medical certificates with "well done for staying at home and looking after yourself" certificates.

Surely you people out there can relate. You wake up feeling like crap, can barely get out of bed to empty your bursting bladder and yet you're expected to leave your cosy bed and head for the medical centre.

Once at the medical centre you gain the privilege of waiting in a room full of sick contagious people, which of course, is exactly what your body needs.

After waiting a few hours, you're finally granted an audience with Dr. Desensitised who tells you to get some rest, stay warm and drink lots of fluids. Bugger! It's too bad you'd scheduled a marathon in the rain today in which you were going to run naked in order to raise awareness for a "water is bad for you" campaign.

And by now you've over exerted yourself while in this fragile state, which means you're probably going to have to go back to the doctors again tomorrow because, of course, the doctor only gave you one day off work.

Vote for me at the next Grand Poobah elections!!

Oh dear Lord they're Clones!!

What the hell is up with these women? They all have the same "look" yet I'm not quite sure what that "look" is. There is one thing I do find particularly odd in regards to the picture above. Despite them all looking the same I only find one of these women attractive. Can you guess which one? And what the hell is wrong with me?

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Yabby blues

I remember the first house I lived in. I spent my childhood there until I was 11 and looking back, it was a luxurious place to live. Giant backyard, huge living areas and most importantly, large enough to house all the pets I used to collect.

The first interesting pet I remember owning was a blue yabby who shared a fishtank with our giant goldfish. I remember the yabby well due to his tenacity and sheer will to be free. In total, the yabby had five escape attempts, the most successful attempt getting him outside and half way down the driveway.

We always wondered how the yabby managed to get out of the fish tank until one fateful day I managed to catch him in the act. The yabby would wedge his body between the glass and filter, then slowly crawl his way up and out through a gap in the glass. It was a problem instantly remedied by placing a rock over the gap.

Unfortunately, the yabby died shortly after by capturing and gorging himself on one of the goldfish. He probably figured he'd never successfully escape now that I knew his little secret.

I suppose it's true what they say - life without hope just isn't worth living. Once you come to realise this my friends, know that you are on the same intellectual plane - as a yabby.

Poo stains on the toilet

This will only apply to men, however, if you are in fact a woman and can relate to this, you're doing something very, very wrong.

Occassionally, when visiting a toilet to deposit your supply of urine, you will, upon looking down into the bowl find - a poo stain. Some people will instantly look away in disgust and head for an alternative urinal depository. Others will reach for the toilet brush, but not I. No, upon seeing a poo stain I think one thing, and one thing only - a challenge! And what is this challenge?

Can my stream of urine wash away the entire stain before my internal jets cut out?

If you find yourself smiling at this point then we can throw our arms around one another and call each other friend. In this vast universe of uncertainty and conflict, we have found a point of cohesion upon which to relate. There is however, one point that can unhinge our newfound friendship - upon success or failure of your streaming venture, how do you perceive the events which just unfolded?
If successful, was it due to the high potency and overwhelming force of your mighty wee-wee? Or was it simply that the stain lacked the fortitude to just hold on?
If unsuccessful, was it because the stain had received special training from a remora or is it just a case of you being woefully inadequate in all areas of your life?

Decide my friend. And decide well. Jesus is watching.