crazybrave

… have just realised that Sunday morning soccer is on at the same time as Insiders.

Dammit.

First pre-season game Sunday. Training sessions attended: 0 Impeccable excuses (really, seriously impeccable): 3

Feel the fear, and do it anyway.

Go Strikers!

I liked the flaming air guitarist, and I can even cop ballerinas in AFL themed tutus.

But it’s wrong that Grinspoon, the poor man’s Powderfinger and possibly Australia’s most overrated band*, opened The Show at the Commonwealth Games closing ceremoany.

And did they have to be singing “Hard Act to Follow”? This is not only a Very Bad Song, but wildy inappropriate in every respect. The title is a lie, and as for the lyrics:

You’re a hard act to follow,
Such a fine looking fellow.
I hear your belly is yellow,
You’re a hard act to swallow.

It kinda makes me sick,
The way you turn those tricks.
C’mon and light it up,
I wanna feel the rush.

I’ll be shooting for thrills when I walk out that door,
You say it’s hard to care anymore.

Kills, thrills and Sunday pills woah,
I’m on a mission to kill, still, coz nothing thrills, no.

You’re hooked on coke and hoochie,
I want my milk and cookies.
You know your wife looks pretty,
I think your wife looks pretty.

I’ll be shooting for thrills when I walk out that door,
You say it’s hard to care anymore.

Kills, thrills and Sunday pills woah,
I’m on a mission to kill, still, coz nothing thrills, no.

I’ll be shooting for thrills when I walk out that door,
Don’t turn around and say you need me anymore.
Popping pieces of pills up off the lounge room floor,
You say its hard to care anymore.

Kills, thrills and Sunday pills woah,
I’m on a mission to kill, still, coz nothing thrills, no.

In happier news, apparently Australia won lots of shiny things, so yay us. Heaps more than New Zealand, but that’s certainly not news.

* Killing Heidi also a contender.

I opened my email this morning to a message from a new friend:

Oh my God! You are the first Blog site person whose ‘stuff’ I have read- only because your site entry came up when I was searching for something entirely unrelated to you- threadworms in fact and I’ll come back to that later.

And how it has opened my eyes! Are you serious? Do you think that anyone gives a shit about your ‘stuff’? Do you not have a life? Well, I guess not as you think you look like Sade (yeah, right, if your thumbnail is you- my colleague thinks you are a guy in a dress, but I’m not that rude, there is a line) and of course you are Australian- take it from a Kiwi- being you and being Australian does not actually qualify you as anyone worth reading about and I am just so amazed (well not really as I always knew blogs/bloggers were totally anal (sorry, threadworm connection)) that you obviously think differently.

Dear me, I have never been so bored in my entire life. I would love to devote my entire lunch time to analysing your site, your pretentious use of English and your pseudocomedic sytle, but I feel that your egomaniacal and narcissistic tendencies would, to use more commas, find you, as a blogger, indifferent to such criticism and I’m fed up typing with a sandwich lodged in my mouth.

Getting back to the poor old threadworm- I fear that your life is less interesting than that of the average bottom dweller, so please, for the sake of Humanity, give up this quest to flood this World with your drivel and move on.

Please.

Pretty please.

Rigor (not my real name, but hey, I’m not a pretentious Blogperson)

This is probably a knee-jerk reaction to you bloody Aussies beating us in the pool/velodrome/games/ohshiteverything- don’t worry, we like Bronze (and 4th…)

You know, I had guessed his name wasn’t Rigor. It’s a pretty brutal name to give a kid, and anyway the email said it was from “Peter Rees”. As Peter said, he found me doing a search for “threadworm infestations new zealand”. The 7th result google turned up is:

crazybrave: February 2006 I totally started masturbating as a result of a threadworm infestation – but let’s … and recent New Zealand research which he says “indicates there are …

I hope he isn’t touching his mouth after he’s touched his bottom.

You’ll never get rid of them that way, Peter.

Here I am:

I look very slightly more like this picture than the one below:

But this one is more accurate for seances.

Via TJ , aka Ms Carmen Electra, and this joint. You have to register first, but feel free to make that bit up like I did. A prize if you can guess who I got third.

“It was a little death, not being able to make a tale out of the small moments of life and share them with someone for whom they were new.”

Kate Grenville wins the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize for fiction. The quote above is from her most recent novel, The Secret River, which you should just go out and buy and read immediately.

It appears that my ancient neighbour Kev is celebrating her win with some rousing John Denver tapes.

From last week’s AFR “Boss” magazine, in an article talking about the appointment of a person to the role of “Head of Manufacturing” for the Customer Service and Operations division of the NAB:

“Adams says managers in particular were very accepting of the new program. Having already slashed staff and automated systems, they were “at their wit’s end” when searching for new productivity gains, he says”

Does anyone have a copy of “Football for Dummies” just sitting around? In a moment of foolish excitement, I appear to have joined a soccer team.

I am now thinking this may have been a mistake, mainly because:

Aren’t they scary?

I am looking on the bright side, reminding myself that there will be some quite excellent things about this whole plan, including changing that last point and being able to announce that I’m just popping up to the park for a round of keepy-uppy.

No. 1: “You can’t shoot a man who was born to hang.”

and how ’bout them pineapples, ay?