Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Pracrastiness is next to Godliness

So...the pointy end of the university semester rears it's fanged and hungry head once more. With a week to go until three papers and a take home exam (that thinly-veiled academic torture device) are due, there is rarely a better time to waste some truly precious moments.

Thus, here I am my friends.

Today's task is to research the effects of English in foreign-language advertising so I can write a 2500 word paper on it tomorrow. But since the subject is decidedly even less exciting than it sounds, I figured I'd post what I'm listening to while I'm supposed to be working rather than actually working. Have you guys heard Blonde Redhead? No? Well, shit, until today neither had I. Since my good mate (and midfield maestro to Rooney's Uncle FC), Tristan, recommended it the other day I decided to give'em a whirl and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. Their latest is called "23". It's apparently called 23 because:

The 23rd hexagram of the I Ching is commonly known as "Splitting Apart", the point in a cycle where upheaval and disintegration enters in. The number 23, heralded by many an occultist and rag-tag philosopher is often considered a magical number associated with change, the point in a series where new energy comes in to transform the pre-existing condition and change the trajectory (Thank you Pitchfork Media).

Whatever. Anyway, it's rad. In the utmost. It's produced by the dude that produced Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I recommend a listen.

Also worth a mention is TV On The Radio. It has sustained me through a number of dreary assignments this term. Most good.

How can you not like something called "Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes"?

Friday, May 25, 2007

I didn't lie. Hurrah.

See! It really is Star Wars' 30th Anniversary!!!!

Happy Birthday Star Wars!!



Okay, so according to this shitty "Good Morning America" style Aussie morning show, today is the 30th birthday of Star Wars. Now, I haven't checked their facts - something I probably really should have done, becuase this is a show that would rather celebrate the 30th anniversary of Star Wars over the 40th anniversary of the referendum which allowed Aborigines to vote... so yeah, their credibilty ain't too high. But fuck it. STAR WARS IS RAD!!!

Fuck yeah! So, everyone who has ever tried to do a flip off a diving board and catch a stick (that you pretend is a lightsaber) thrown to you by your younger brother or sister, but actually end up impaling your pancreas and slowly spiraling down to the bottom of the swimming pool as your blood ribbons out around you- this, my friends, is your day!

Just remember to tell your kids:
HAN SOLO SHOT FIRST!!!!


I AM A GIANT NERD AND TODAY IS MY DAY OF REVERIE!!!!

Astounding Feats of Human Intelligence Part 3

Okay, just to warn everyone, this post should probably be disregarded by all of society unless you are actually Hamblore the Canstralian Sloth. If you continue to read this, set your engines for Ranting Speed. You've been warned.

Okay...you know what I cannot tolerate? Superfluous pedantry. Otherwise known as retarded and pointless anal-retentiveness. Now the nature of my work (for those uninitiated of you, I work in pharmaceutical clinical trials), calls for quite a high tolerance of pedantry. Logs are checked, checked, triple checked, filled out in triplicate, blah blah blah. So, it takes a hell of a fucking lot to piss me off. But here we go. Today I rock up to work to find a note on my desk informing me that I am to go through every single individual patient log (that's a lot of logs people) and change all these little entires that some fucking dumb wench has marked with a vomitous little post-it note. Why do the entries have to be changed? Because, as far as I can tell, the vacuous harlet is sucking down vast quantities of ether and has lost the ability required for standard human cognition. She has politely asked me to change every instance that nothing has been returned, and which I have marked a zero (because to my feeble brain nothing=0), to be marked with a 2. Lets say this again. When they return no syringes, I'm supposed to write that they returned 2 syringes. Of course! I'm so stupid! Please pardon me, oh bwana of human intellect, you doyen of analytical thinking! 0 = 2!!!!! I am so ashamed of my pathetic attempt at logical reasoning!

Sweet merciful intergalactic robot jesus. I actaully have to spend the next hour to comply with this inane fuckery. Genius. Fucking genius.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Astounding Feats of Human Intelligence- Part 2

You know whats fucking genius (besides the clip below of Mike Tyson's greatest hits, which includes quite possibly the the most astounding feats of human intelligence ever uttered by a single individual)? Filing very important invoicing documents in totally random and arbitrary folders. Not only is it easier than taking the time to file them where they belong (necessitating much difficult going-and-getting of numerous seperate folders) but it has the added bonus of making your co-workers spend precious hours toiling futily through every folder in the department to find said invoicing document while a guy from finance stands around impatiently tapping his foot until eventually sighing and proclaiming he will be back on monday and he really needs that invoice document. Who perpetrated this astounding feat of human intelligence? Who single handedly cut effeciency in my department by nearly 100% for two hours on tuesday morning?

Me.

Repeat after me:
I am sofa king. We. Todd. Ed.

Mike Tyson. Talking. Genius.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Gravity Wave

Alex, can you ask your dad about this?

Sweet sweet encouragement

Being the lazy sloth-brained lazy-fish that I am, I can't work at something for more than 15 minutes before gettin' as tuckered out as...um...Chris Tucker? Okay, fuck that. I'm just trying to say I'm lazy, ok? So I'm supposed to be writing a paper on fucking inter-ethnic relations in France. Hurray for cultural sensitivity. This is a country that's got about as much sensitivity in it's inter-ethnic relations policies as a 62-year-old Vegas whore has in her slippy-slappy. Needless to say I found my way onto Man's Most Ultimate Time-Sucker, and let's face it, if ever I needed some encouragement to further my academic ambitions, it's now. What do they give me? This little pearl about what to expect after I graduate. Enjoy. (It's not really ha-ha funny, more "what-the-hell-is-the-goddamned-point-kill-me-now" funny.) Whatever. Posting this let me kill ten minutes that could have been used wisely. And you should all know how I feel about that.

Roy Keane cripples Alfie Haaland

Here's a nice little visual supplement to go with Quote No. 1. Many thanks to Alex_Ygd. Sweet freakin' Jeebus. Isn't Roy Keane a sweetie?

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Quote of the Arbitrary Time I Deem Adequate Between Posting Quotes I Feel Worthy Of Quoting No. 1

For the inaugural posting in this perhaps-frequently-occurring series we have a gem from none other than the most gentlemanly and sporting man ever to grace the velvety green carpet of Old Trafford, the cuddliest and wuddliest of all Irishmen, the ambassador of God to Cork and recently successful manager of the mighty Black Cats: take a bow Roy Keane.

Taken from his masterfully executed and cleverly titled memoirs, Keane: The Autobiography, the passage is simply breathtaking in its simplicity, an immaculately succinct and forthright expression of his sentiment, a quote so emblematic of the great man that this humble author suggests it would not be out of place gracing Master Keane’s tombstone on that grey Irish day that the magnificent former King of Manchester passes from this world to eternity!

Following a typically fair though, unfortunately (and surely accidentally), leg-breaking tackle on his most respected Manchester City opponent Alfie Haaland, Sir Roy Keane of the Court of Noble and Sporting Conduct had these fine words to comfort his fallen but worthy foe as he lay writhing upon on the turf:

“Take that, you cunt.”

Good form, old man. Good form.

(Quoted directly from p. 231 in Keane, R., 2002, Keane: The Autobiography, Penguin Books, London.)



Astounding Feats of Human Intelligence- Part 1

Conversation overheard on Elizabeth Street at approx. 12:40pm yesterday:

Youngish pant-suited female office-dweller (1):

It's got formaldehyde in it.

Youngish pant-suited female office-dweller (2):

What's formaldehyde?

Youngish pant-suited female office-dweller (1):

It's this stuff they use for preserving things.

Youngish pant-suited female office-dweller (2):

Is it bad for you?

Youngish pant-suited female office-dweller (1):

I don't think so.

And so it begins...