Friday, June 24, 2005
Random Crud Corner
I hate taking bikes on the train, it's like being a full-time carer, you can't let it out of your sight for too long as it could fall over or hit someone. haha
Even after becoming 'mature,' I still show off in front of hot girls. what a nerd!
It's amazing that I can pretend that I'm my own person, but when it comes to trying to keep a job or getting more shifts or whatever, I become a lap dog!
Vaseline is really awesome as lip balm, but it looks suss being a guy and having it in my room, but if I hide it, it looks even more suss if someone finds it. Lose-lose situation there.
Some farts are like siamese twins. First there's this really big smell around the perpetrator, then a few minutes later the fart can be in two different parts of the room. It's like conjoined twins being successfully separated.
Why do Pringles boxes say "once you pop you can't stop," except they have a resealable lid.
I hate chucking out old boxers, even though they're ripped and just downright crummy looking, I can't bear to part with them. Does anyone else have any underwear or other stuff that's past it's use by date but still keep? You can't say your mum.
Why when two people are walking towards each other, always seem to both walk into each other even though there is enough space on either side of them for a couple of elephants? It's amazing, i do it all the time. I think "ok surely when i shift to the left they will shift to the right. Oh shit they're going left too, fuck i'll go the other way oh shit now they're doing it" Then its the usual embarassed chuckle and the "sorry" which you both utter at the same time which finally indicates that the dreadful experience is over.
Even after becoming 'mature,' I still show off in front of hot girls. what a nerd!
It's amazing that I can pretend that I'm my own person, but when it comes to trying to keep a job or getting more shifts or whatever, I become a lap dog!
Vaseline is really awesome as lip balm, but it looks suss being a guy and having it in my room, but if I hide it, it looks even more suss if someone finds it. Lose-lose situation there.
Some farts are like siamese twins. First there's this really big smell around the perpetrator, then a few minutes later the fart can be in two different parts of the room. It's like conjoined twins being successfully separated.
Why do Pringles boxes say "once you pop you can't stop," except they have a resealable lid.
I hate chucking out old boxers, even though they're ripped and just downright crummy looking, I can't bear to part with them. Does anyone else have any underwear or other stuff that's past it's use by date but still keep? You can't say your mum.
Why when two people are walking towards each other, always seem to both walk into each other even though there is enough space on either side of them for a couple of elephants? It's amazing, i do it all the time. I think "ok surely when i shift to the left they will shift to the right. Oh shit they're going left too, fuck i'll go the other way oh shit now they're doing it" Then its the usual embarassed chuckle and the "sorry" which you both utter at the same time which finally indicates that the dreadful experience is over.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Having a foot"ball"
Our Australian rules football players are a classic example of man at his finest, fit, toned, chiselled perfection. They are highly tuned athletes, capable of sporting brilliance with fantastic marks, kick super-human goals - just all-round co-ordination.
Why is it that then, that these perfect physical specimens, capable of so much still find it impossible to give each other a co-ordinated high five? When they kick some magical goal that I couldn't even manage on an x-box they run up to each other and always miss the high five or high ten, and instead do some sloppy fresh air kung-fu move. This vexes me. I find that they lack a bit of personality and depth too, based on second-hand female information.
Why is it that then, that these perfect physical specimens, capable of so much still find it impossible to give each other a co-ordinated high five? When they kick some magical goal that I couldn't even manage on an x-box they run up to each other and always miss the high five or high ten, and instead do some sloppy fresh air kung-fu move. This vexes me. I find that they lack a bit of personality and depth too, based on second-hand female information.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Toilet Rolls and Toast
Why do people find it so hard to change the toilet roll when it runs out?
I don't mean leaving the empty cardboard tube in the holder and sitting a new roll on top, as you then have to pick it up and manually unroll it. That isn't very convenient. Plus sitting it on top of the toilet is pretty useless too, as the chances of a fresh new roll of two-ply drowning in the bottom of the bowl are greatly increased. I thought about this, and realised that it is really easy to take the rod out of the holder, slide the used tube off, toss it into the bin, get a new roll and reverse the procedure. Hence there are about four to five main actions here in the toilet-roll changeover.
Now this is what is required to make a piece of toast in the morning:
1. You need to open the fridge or bread bin.
2. Take out pack of bread, open it(if its got those sticky ties expect about 20 seconds of fiddling then ripping over packet).
3. Put two slices in the toaster (less or more depending on level of hunger).
4. While the bread is cooking, which usually takes about 2 minutes you need to pull out the spreads and a knife.
5. Once the toast pops up, you need to open the condiments and spread em.
6. Then you have to eat it and clean up, which is at least another five main actions, so overall at least ten actions, and remembering that this does not include including eating time, the process takes about five minutes.
If people manage to eat toast in the morning, why can't they change the toilet roll? Look, I'm not well versed about the nuances of time-and-motion, but the toilet-roll conundrum is something that needs to be addressed in households not only in Australia, but all over the world. It's a simple 4-5 step procedure which is over before you can say "I cook fuckin toast everyday but i cant be bothered changing a toilet roll."
I don't mean leaving the empty cardboard tube in the holder and sitting a new roll on top, as you then have to pick it up and manually unroll it. That isn't very convenient. Plus sitting it on top of the toilet is pretty useless too, as the chances of a fresh new roll of two-ply drowning in the bottom of the bowl are greatly increased. I thought about this, and realised that it is really easy to take the rod out of the holder, slide the used tube off, toss it into the bin, get a new roll and reverse the procedure. Hence there are about four to five main actions here in the toilet-roll changeover.
Now this is what is required to make a piece of toast in the morning:
1. You need to open the fridge or bread bin.
2. Take out pack of bread, open it(if its got those sticky ties expect about 20 seconds of fiddling then ripping over packet).
3. Put two slices in the toaster (less or more depending on level of hunger).
4. While the bread is cooking, which usually takes about 2 minutes you need to pull out the spreads and a knife.
5. Once the toast pops up, you need to open the condiments and spread em.
6. Then you have to eat it and clean up, which is at least another five main actions, so overall at least ten actions, and remembering that this does not include including eating time, the process takes about five minutes.
If people manage to eat toast in the morning, why can't they change the toilet roll? Look, I'm not well versed about the nuances of time-and-motion, but the toilet-roll conundrum is something that needs to be addressed in households not only in Australia, but all over the world. It's a simple 4-5 step procedure which is over before you can say "I cook fuckin toast everyday but i cant be bothered changing a toilet roll."
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Suggestion Boxes
At a typical office one day, management, or a specially-formed committee of a non-discriminatory cross-section of office staff meet one afternoon, tip the contents of a suggestion box out onto a table and pick through each piece of paper, evaluating any great ideas and canning the rest. During this process various bad jokes would be made, but everyone would take the exercise seriously enough.
I think if I was a manager, I doubt I’d want to hear how improvements can be made to the workplace that I am supposedly in charge of.
Instead of doing what my job description requires, I’d just walk from cubicle to cubicle, talking business jargon and at all other times sleep under my desk while a sign emblazons my very closed door entitled:
“Parallel-System-Process (PSP) meeting on, please do not disturb under any circumstances.”
Thus I think I’d casually look over these suggestions in the time it takes me to drink a polystyrene cup of cold instant coffee, take them home and use them to start a fire on a cold winter’s night.
If it were summer, I’d donate them to a homeless person.
Upon reading them, said homeless citizen could be slightly confused when a piece of paper handed to them reads:
“I haven’t wanted to say anything as I never like to cause a fuss, but I think the photocopier needs a service.”
Or another well-intentioned suggestion may read,
“Dear sir, I think your water cooler needs to be refilled a little more frequently.”
Upon reading this, the homeless person may then go into a state of confusion, and may not be able to fathom how their non-existent water cooler could run out so quickly. I can only begin to imagine how our homeless person’s mind would be weighed down by the process of trying to fit into their non-existent budget any repair work that their photocopier may need.
Whichever way one looks at it, they are suggestions for improvement, and maybe if they were thoughtfully noted and acted upon, the homeless person may finally be able to enlarge an A4-sized page to A3 on a photocopier that actually doesn’t exist. His life will be changed forever - for the better. He would become the respected manager of his office.
A suggestion box doesn’t have to be reserved solely for workplace however. I think everyone needs a suggestion box in which their friends, colleagues, family, or even just a passer-by can drop in some well-intentioned comments on how this person can improve themselves.
It could come in the form of a backpack, with a pen hanging off a string and a pad securely fastened to the outside, so people can conveniently scribble down a suggestion and then drop through the jaws of improvement.
At the end of a day, just before they go to bed, the person can take the suggestion backpack off, unzip it, and gloss over the days suggestions. It could be just the thing the person needs to turn their life around, and find that secret for success for a productive and fulfilling life.
They may at some point during the day think, “Why is it that I never seem to meet any gorgeous ladies even if I’m a totally hot piece of man-meat?”
Their question could finally be answered one night while they eagerly read through their suggestions with one that may be read something along the lines of:
“Get a haircut, you look like a twat.”
Life-changing stuff, that.
I think if I was a manager, I doubt I’d want to hear how improvements can be made to the workplace that I am supposedly in charge of.
Instead of doing what my job description requires, I’d just walk from cubicle to cubicle, talking business jargon and at all other times sleep under my desk while a sign emblazons my very closed door entitled:
“Parallel-System-Process (PSP) meeting on, please do not disturb under any circumstances.”
Thus I think I’d casually look over these suggestions in the time it takes me to drink a polystyrene cup of cold instant coffee, take them home and use them to start a fire on a cold winter’s night.
If it were summer, I’d donate them to a homeless person.
Upon reading them, said homeless citizen could be slightly confused when a piece of paper handed to them reads:
“I haven’t wanted to say anything as I never like to cause a fuss, but I think the photocopier needs a service.”
Or another well-intentioned suggestion may read,
“Dear sir, I think your water cooler needs to be refilled a little more frequently.”
Upon reading this, the homeless person may then go into a state of confusion, and may not be able to fathom how their non-existent water cooler could run out so quickly. I can only begin to imagine how our homeless person’s mind would be weighed down by the process of trying to fit into their non-existent budget any repair work that their photocopier may need.
Whichever way one looks at it, they are suggestions for improvement, and maybe if they were thoughtfully noted and acted upon, the homeless person may finally be able to enlarge an A4-sized page to A3 on a photocopier that actually doesn’t exist. His life will be changed forever - for the better. He would become the respected manager of his office.
A suggestion box doesn’t have to be reserved solely for workplace however. I think everyone needs a suggestion box in which their friends, colleagues, family, or even just a passer-by can drop in some well-intentioned comments on how this person can improve themselves.
It could come in the form of a backpack, with a pen hanging off a string and a pad securely fastened to the outside, so people can conveniently scribble down a suggestion and then drop through the jaws of improvement.
At the end of a day, just before they go to bed, the person can take the suggestion backpack off, unzip it, and gloss over the days suggestions. It could be just the thing the person needs to turn their life around, and find that secret for success for a productive and fulfilling life.
They may at some point during the day think, “Why is it that I never seem to meet any gorgeous ladies even if I’m a totally hot piece of man-meat?”
Their question could finally be answered one night while they eagerly read through their suggestions with one that may be read something along the lines of:
“Get a haircut, you look like a twat.”
Life-changing stuff, that.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Bargain Bins
I was in Borders bookshop before, had a look around, checked out the humour section and found some great stuff.
As I kept walking around I found one thing that amuses me in bookshops, the discount books bin.
“Seventy-five percent off” said the sign, beckoning me to come over and check out the crap in the bin. I don’t want to make up a figure as it sounds wanky, but nearly every time I look in a discount bin at a bookstore, the stuff that’s in there is in there for a reason.
Tonight’s offering: Biography of Mark Waugh, an Australian test cricketer I couldn’t give a shit about, and seemingly the general populace too. Another title that caught my attention was the Hardy Boyz; it quickly reminded me of those halcyon days as a kid, spent cosily curled up with those schoolboy detective novels so popular back then. But without even getting my potentially incriminating fingerprints on the cover, I realized it was some boxing crap.
The final title I almost thought about chuckling at was something like, “How steam trains really work,” as if the pages of said book contained some sort of expose whose ‘steamy’ secrets had been kept confined by those railway bureaucracies all those years. I guess then that maybe they actually didn’t use steam to power them but some sort of alien device, but everyone was deceived by the site of sweaty workers shoveling coal into a furnace. Riveting shit I’m sure, and I can tell Borders wants people to have the opportunity to find out these steam train secrets too, by taking 75% off the price. I didn’t have any money so I didn’t get a copy though.
As I kept walking around I found one thing that amuses me in bookshops, the discount books bin.
“Seventy-five percent off” said the sign, beckoning me to come over and check out the crap in the bin. I don’t want to make up a figure as it sounds wanky, but nearly every time I look in a discount bin at a bookstore, the stuff that’s in there is in there for a reason.
Tonight’s offering: Biography of Mark Waugh, an Australian test cricketer I couldn’t give a shit about, and seemingly the general populace too. Another title that caught my attention was the Hardy Boyz; it quickly reminded me of those halcyon days as a kid, spent cosily curled up with those schoolboy detective novels so popular back then. But without even getting my potentially incriminating fingerprints on the cover, I realized it was some boxing crap.
The final title I almost thought about chuckling at was something like, “How steam trains really work,” as if the pages of said book contained some sort of expose whose ‘steamy’ secrets had been kept confined by those railway bureaucracies all those years. I guess then that maybe they actually didn’t use steam to power them but some sort of alien device, but everyone was deceived by the site of sweaty workers shoveling coal into a furnace. Riveting shit I’m sure, and I can tell Borders wants people to have the opportunity to find out these steam train secrets too, by taking 75% off the price. I didn’t have any money so I didn’t get a copy though.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Ruling the World Through Socks
Today I saw a lady in the park walking her dog. The dog was twenty metres away from her. I casually thought, "I thought dog's had to be on leads." I didn't care but thought that nonetheless. Upon closer inspection I realised she was in fact, adhering to the laws of the park. Her dog was on the end of a 20 metre lead. That lead was so long I could tie ten couches on top of a car with that (couldnt think of funnier example, sorry).
Last week I was walking along, and heard an old lady yelling out off to my left. "Elliot! Elliot no! Elliot!" I looked around, as curiosity definetly got the better of me and I was just in time to see some small shaggy dog mount a fellow park-goers pooch, and proceed to go like the clappers. The lady, unfortunately was old, giving the dog a few seconds before her old legs got her over to her fluffy companion. The fluffy companion being the dog of course. No, I didn't look for too long, carefully avoiding the tag of 'animal porn lover.'
When does an old lady get to the point where she thinks "fuck this, I'm too old to keep shaving this beard," and end up growing more hair than a pubescent boy? On the news once, they were interviewing some old guy after he got mugged, and he was talking from his hospital bed, his name popped up in one of those seven new captions. It was in fact, a lady called betty or something. News being rated 'g?' i don't think so.
Why does every fish and chip shop have a girl behind the counter with a moustache?
Plus how do socks disappear, even after 23 years, I still can't get to the bottom of this one. Is there a friend in every group of friends, a family member out of every family that is secretly contracted to the governement to steal one, or more pairs of socks every couple of weeks to build a huge stockpile of socks hidden somewhere deep in the recesses of a secret desert compound? What they do with them all? My guess is that we are in fact running out of cotton, not oil and thus need to build up some sort of reserve once socks run out, and then the price will skyrocket and Australia will rule the world with socks!
Last week I was walking along, and heard an old lady yelling out off to my left. "Elliot! Elliot no! Elliot!" I looked around, as curiosity definetly got the better of me and I was just in time to see some small shaggy dog mount a fellow park-goers pooch, and proceed to go like the clappers. The lady, unfortunately was old, giving the dog a few seconds before her old legs got her over to her fluffy companion. The fluffy companion being the dog of course. No, I didn't look for too long, carefully avoiding the tag of 'animal porn lover.'
When does an old lady get to the point where she thinks "fuck this, I'm too old to keep shaving this beard," and end up growing more hair than a pubescent boy? On the news once, they were interviewing some old guy after he got mugged, and he was talking from his hospital bed, his name popped up in one of those seven new captions. It was in fact, a lady called betty or something. News being rated 'g?' i don't think so.
Why does every fish and chip shop have a girl behind the counter with a moustache?
Plus how do socks disappear, even after 23 years, I still can't get to the bottom of this one. Is there a friend in every group of friends, a family member out of every family that is secretly contracted to the governement to steal one, or more pairs of socks every couple of weeks to build a huge stockpile of socks hidden somewhere deep in the recesses of a secret desert compound? What they do with them all? My guess is that we are in fact running out of cotton, not oil and thus need to build up some sort of reserve once socks run out, and then the price will skyrocket and Australia will rule the world with socks!
Friday, June 03, 2005
How to Clean a Room
Cleansing or Pointless?
1. Firstly, I like to survey the scene, looking for any potential problem spots that could cause a room-clean ETA blow out, just like Peter Batchelor and his railway thing.
2. Where to start? A question I, and many others have probably asked themselves when confronted with a messy room. I think the desk is a good start, as a clean desk is one of the things that really motivates you to do a top-class job. I use the clean desk as a tool to picture what the rest of the room could potentially look like. This usually works.
3. I usually move in a clockwise motion around the room, interchanging with the floor as I progress, but that system is quite flexible which for all you non-linear people will be pleasing.
4. I do take my time. Most things get either put away as I get to them, or I gently toss them onto my bed, and these objects I'll turn my attention to later on.
5. Richard Wielga, my housemate, likes to do an up and through cleaning motion, almost like a Lleyton Hewitt fist pump, or low to hi uppercut. He starts with his floor then moves up to the surrounding higher spots, such as a desk or bed. An effective technique, although I don't really use it myself, preferring the familarity of the clockwise technique.
6. Sometimes you are confronted with the uncomfortable situation of having to make the hard choice whether to throw something out or not. As long as it's really something you won't need at some later date, just do it, it's very cathartic.
7. One highlight for me is once I have a tidy room, I move all easily transportable objects out of the room and pull out vacuum cleaner. Ours is quite high-powered, although one drawback is it's lack of hard floor component, with the soft brush surface to avoid scratching a wooden floor. I just have take my time and hover the hard plastic nozzle slightly off the floor, and let the high-powered motor do the rest.
8. It's a really nice feeling looking over a clean room. It looks bigger, smells fresher and really makes you want to spend more time in there, reading and making up crap ballady songs on an old acoustic guitar.
I cleaned my room about 5-6 days ago now, and the feedback from friends and housemates has been really positive. I have actually inspired a couple too, although they were lacking my thoroughness. I think this is made up for by the fact that I do this perhaps once a year, so I can't really talk.
A quick legal thought, and please don't think less of me, but I'm curious. If I went to the toilet and someone swooped in with a small net and snatched one of my "things" and ran off with it, does this constitute theft? Just a thought...
1. Firstly, I like to survey the scene, looking for any potential problem spots that could cause a room-clean ETA blow out, just like Peter Batchelor and his railway thing.
2. Where to start? A question I, and many others have probably asked themselves when confronted with a messy room. I think the desk is a good start, as a clean desk is one of the things that really motivates you to do a top-class job. I use the clean desk as a tool to picture what the rest of the room could potentially look like. This usually works.
3. I usually move in a clockwise motion around the room, interchanging with the floor as I progress, but that system is quite flexible which for all you non-linear people will be pleasing.
4. I do take my time. Most things get either put away as I get to them, or I gently toss them onto my bed, and these objects I'll turn my attention to later on.
5. Richard Wielga, my housemate, likes to do an up and through cleaning motion, almost like a Lleyton Hewitt fist pump, or low to hi uppercut. He starts with his floor then moves up to the surrounding higher spots, such as a desk or bed. An effective technique, although I don't really use it myself, preferring the familarity of the clockwise technique.
6. Sometimes you are confronted with the uncomfortable situation of having to make the hard choice whether to throw something out or not. As long as it's really something you won't need at some later date, just do it, it's very cathartic.
7. One highlight for me is once I have a tidy room, I move all easily transportable objects out of the room and pull out vacuum cleaner. Ours is quite high-powered, although one drawback is it's lack of hard floor component, with the soft brush surface to avoid scratching a wooden floor. I just have take my time and hover the hard plastic nozzle slightly off the floor, and let the high-powered motor do the rest.
8. It's a really nice feeling looking over a clean room. It looks bigger, smells fresher and really makes you want to spend more time in there, reading and making up crap ballady songs on an old acoustic guitar.
I cleaned my room about 5-6 days ago now, and the feedback from friends and housemates has been really positive. I have actually inspired a couple too, although they were lacking my thoroughness. I think this is made up for by the fact that I do this perhaps once a year, so I can't really talk.
A quick legal thought, and please don't think less of me, but I'm curious. If I went to the toilet and someone swooped in with a small net and snatched one of my "things" and ran off with it, does this constitute theft? Just a thought...
