Flannel, Glassware, and Expiry Dates

So it's been a while. I'm putting that out there straight away, let's not dance around and skirt the issue, I have been laz-y. But with all the long weekends, shitty uni assignments, and the end of summer, who has time to blog? Obviously not me.

If you read a couple of my last posts, you would know how much dificulty I was having in obtaining the quintessential aussie garment - the flannel shirt. Well, to my delight I found a couple of these beatuies at K Mart a few weeks ago, and went for the smallest size they had - S. I thought this might be a bit tight, but hey - isnt that the look? Tightish around the gut, sauce stain on the chest area, smokes in the pocket? So I put my flannel on that night, and WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AUSTRALIA!!!??? HOW FUCKING FAT ARE WE!!! this size small is SWIMMING on me!!! I'm no Biggest Loser candidate, but at the same time I'm not built like a paperclip, and the size Small could fit me three times over I reckon!! This is the last thing I expected from an aussie garment. We are straight up and down people, where small means small, big means big, and we don't beat around the bush. So I ask, am I un-Australian-ly small, or are Australians getting un-Australian-ly fat? I'm going with the latter option.

Glassware. What the fuck, I open up the cupboard this evening to get a drink, I couldnt choose a glass! There are 47 different glasses in the cupboard! How do you choose?!?! I say to Rhiannon "we really need to chuck out some of these glasses", she responds with "we use them when people come over" FOURTY SEVEN DIFFERENT GLASSES!!!!! How many fucking people are we having over!!!!!!! If 47 people ever come to my house at once, I'm leaving. Public message to all my friends - DONT COME OVER AND USE OUR GLASSES!!! IF YOU COME AND USE ALL 47, I'LL HAVE TO FUCKING WASH THEM!!!

How shit is it that vegetables go off. You always hear health experts say the less refined and pure a food is, the less value it has for you, and more likely to contain badness like fat and sugar. So what is up with canned food outlasting nuclear blasts, while you smash a pumpkin in half and whack a bit of glad wrap over it and it lasts a week! Instead of putting shit in the crisper now I'm digging a hole in the backyard, and throwing all our vegies and milk in there. And just throwing the meat on the lawn. Surely if its left in its own environment it should last longer. Failing that I'm going to turn my fridge into a giant tin can.

Qat-aren't

50,000 mates and I rocked up to the Telstra Dome last night to see the Socceroos take on Qatar (or Guitar as we called them) to mark the start of the World Cup qualification process. We decided to show our allegiances by wearing Australian flags as capes, which poses a bunch of questions about respecting your flag. For instance, Jonny let his flag touch the ground, which Duke promptly informed means "in scouts if that happens you have to sweep the hall". Awesome. If letting it touch the ground is bad, imagine what passing wind on it, or allowing it on one of Melbourne's trains is like!

Check out Jonny inserting his ticket! (Note: Not a metaphor)

We were positioned in the green and gold army, their only weapons seemed to be a whistle that was right f**king behind my head. I didnt know whether to cheer along or turn around and knock the pricks head off. We soon discovered Guitar weren't very good, and probably only came here for the holiday and the duty free shopping. This was proven when 9 minutes in we saw their goalie (who looked like Dikembe Mutombo) asking fans about the best way to get to Puffing Billy.

We saw Dukes exact double last night, it was a weird experience. This other guy was a bit cleaner though. When they both saw each other their eyes locked for a moment, and then there was almost a look of disgust come across their faces. Grosse.

We spent some time at the train station at the end of the night, here is proof. This is a weird Matrix style photo, taken just as Jonny was morphing to climb in Ben's mouth.

Doesnt everyone look better in capes??

Housefire blamed on Cats!

In other news, here's my Saturday night in a nutshell. () That is a nutshell.

So saturday arvo rolls around, and I leave the BBQ I'm at to go and pick Bear up from his place. I explain that my petrol light has come on, which means I should fill up or stop driving within 20kms. I explained to Bear that I couldnt be arsed getting petrol, so we would try to go to my house without filling up, which was about 30kms away.

It was a nervous trip home, but we made it, and celebrated with a couple of stubbies. (Not the shorts)

We were soon joined by Duke, at which point we began our main mission for the night - finish Star Wars Lego on xbox360. We did not fail ladies and gents, I now have one more thing to put on my resume next time I go for a job.

Occupation : Professional Video Game Champion
Dates: 17.05.1984 - Current

Responsibilities: Being awesome, mashing buttons, throwing controllers, being awesome.

Anyway, so we had a lot of stubbies, played more xbox, until Janelle (Bear's g/f) decided to throw up in a gutter at the party she was at about 10kms away. So we jump in the chariot to head down there, and found two girls on the side of the road along the way.

This is them :

This is us:
Note my hat. Here is another photo of it:



That about concludes the events. My hat is cool.

Oh, before I go, someone has asked if its possible to post comments..Well it should be, but I cant figure it out..I'm working on it though.

Living Life on the Edge

I dont know about you, but there are often times in my day-to-day where I think "yeah, Im hardcore" (mostly when I think about my blog. Blogs are hadcore. 50 Cent probably has one, and he is a full on gangsta). I had one such experience yesterday. Two actually. Wednesday morning I dropped my good suit and shirt off at the Dry Cleaners, because I needed it for a meeting Thursday. So Luigi tells me it wont be ready til Thursday morning...Thats cool Luigi, see you then. So Thursday morning I shower as normal, and then realise I don't know what to put on, given that I'm going to pick up my suit on the way to work. So I dress in panties, footy shorts and a singlet and head off on my journey. I arrive at Luigi's where my suit is waiting, clean and proud, alongside its old mate, my shirt. I then explain to Luigi that since he couldnt clean my garments earlier, I now need a place to change into my 'bag o fruit' as they call it. Luigi wasn't particularly keen, but eventually led me to around behind the clothes racks, where I made the transformation into respectable Riley. Whats more, Luigi had to tie my tie for me! That ladies and gentlemen, is called being hardcore. I bet 50 Cent doesn't even get changed at the dry cleaners. I live life on the edge, in the danger zone, and I'm indicating right now to get into the fast lane. The second instance of me being totally radical and bodacious occured at the end of my meeting in Tullamarine yesterday. Events concluded about 2:30, and I made the executive decision that I wouldnt be returning to the office for the remainder of the day. I drove straight past work at about 3:24pm, with plenty of time to go back and do an hour or two of work, but no, I am a rebel. An outlaw, a hardcore type person. I bet 50 Cent doesnt even do that. Yes, I'm tough.
Shove it.

A Poor Reflection of the state of Australia

Happy Australia Day to you all.

As some of you will be aware, I have searched high and low this week for a flannel shirt. All I have found is dissapointment and anguish where flannel shirts should have been.

I have come to realise what a sad reflection it is on our country, that flannel shirts are no longer now readily available, especially in "Australia Week".
What happened to the good old days where everyone loved flannel, and the beloved shirts could be found in any number of stores? I'll tell you what happened. Australian men got soft. As soft as their moisturised hands and their Pantene Pro V massaged hair. The same way a flannel shirt used to proudly hang from the racks, these days those same racks are home to all things fluro.
I blame not only the youth of Australia, but also the government of this country. I blame the media, I blame metrosexuals.

In what is supposed to be our proudest week as a nation, I feel ashamed and disgusted. I can only hope that flannels somehow make a return to our shelves by the time the greatest day of the year rolls around, Anzac Day.

That is all.

The Illusive Blue and White Flannel

Like a desperate fisherman trauling the mirky waters of a land once home to the most captivating of creatures, but now thought to be home to only a handful of endangered species, I cast a line into the Fountain Gate K Mart last night, using desire for bait, and a passion for flannel to guide me. I had Rhiannon on the flank being my eyes and ears, and it wasn't long before we were right in the area of a few good size blue and whites...They took the line, we reeled em in, but unfortunately all had to be thrown back due to size issues. However I've received a strong tip this morning that the untapped waters of K Mart Boronia may have stocks of the dying breed, so I will be off to dip my line in later today. More updates to follow! Ole!

Flannel - Just Do It.

So I've decided that before this year is out, I will own at least one flannel shirt. I actually wanted one last year, but got talked out of it. I'll keep you updated.

We came, We saw, We drank and got wet.

Welcome ladies and gents to todays blog entry. Here's a recap of my weekends activities so far...

I spent Saturday discovering that my body can't do the things it used to be able to (no, not that). I grabbed an old skateboard and tried to recapture my glory days of 1999 (yes, i partied like it) and after a couple of savage bruises and lumps coming out on my ankle realised that my best days are past me. This is what it feels like to be old. So I went inside and put my slippers on.

So the journey of last night was to take us to Hyde bar (its mandatory that 1 in 4 posts on here has to be about Hyde) to see Jonny Pearler and Snake DJ.

Before we get down to business, fresh kicks for the wet night in Melbourne:

Glorious aren't they?
This is Bear:

Silly Bear is trying to talk through a bottle.

One of the crettins (or ghosts) from Ghostbusters was partying up a storm!

Bit of Pip:

So after some good times and ooncy music, and too many beers, it was time to go..In my euphoric state I somehow punched myself in the eye (seriously, I did) :


So we brave the wet weather getting back to the car, and as we get back in the chariot to head home (via Maccas) I am presented with a full capsule of beer. I dont normally like to drink on the way home, but if Bear hands you a drink, you drink it.

All in all a solid night emerged from the coccoon that was a rainy night in Melbourne..

Big ups to Marcus, Philth, and also Rhi for driving..

Cricket Madness

So after the Sydney test match people like John Bertrand and the Australian Legends Committee or Hall of Fame committee or some rubbish demanded that the Aussie cricketers tone down their antics and play in the right spirit of the game...This was a reaction to what? An umpire paying a catch when an Indian player didnt hit the ball? Clarke "maybe not" catching a ball that no camera angle caught? Nevermind that both captains said before the game they would be honest, and now Kumble and his mates aren't accepting Clarke saying he caught the ball...
I could be wrong, but is it not up to the umpires to make the decisions? Or are they paid to stand and just watch? Do we hold footballers as accountable? Let's say Darren Glass puts his hand in Barry Hall's back, does he go straight to the umpire and demand he is awarded a free kick against? Is he condemned in the press for not standing on the mark immediately, before a decision has been made? Bottom line is, umpires are paid to make decisions. Players are paid to win. That's an important sentence.
All this talk that sport isn't war and the Aussies should calm down is ridiculous. They are paid, and paid well, to win. I don't think any of them get bonuses for being liked by opponents. And its funny that now they are playing sport down like "its just a game, its not war" yet anytime a player is dropped or sacked or traded (in other codes of sport) the old cliche comes out "sport is a business these days". Which is it, a game or a business?
For decades we have loved to see our sports teams achieve greatness on a global scale, and the Aussie cricket team has dominated its competition for 20 years, and now, on the eve of breaking the record for the most test match wins in a row, we condemn them for being too aggressive? For trying too hard?

Daddy's Back!

hey everybody, just wanted to let you know that I'm back in effect, after google and blogspot tried to weigh me down in red tape and politics for a couple months (not really, but they did make me change email addys, sign up for more spam, not the good spam in tins either, and do a bunch of other shit)....
So im back, and will start b-logging in the next few days.