Scrotie Pants
October 25, 2000
I think the VXD files on my PC are the ones with the secret networks. I can feel them plotting against me again. My computer had a slight splutter this evening and I’m a bit worried. I think the VXD files are beginning to resemble the Ku Klux Klan.
In fact, there’s a lot of files on my computer which are similar to celebrities. I find config.sys to be John Safran in computer file form – a while ago, very important and often used; but now? Nobody even cares.
*****
Adam and I visited Melbourne on the weekend. It’s the first time I’d returned to Victoria since I moved to Sydney in March. The whole trip was planned at the last minute, so to save money we bought our plane tickets from Impulse Airlines, everyone’s favourite El Discounto airline.
We arrived at the airport at one of the new Airport Link train stations (just like a regular train station, except with bigger ticket gates so you can get your luggage through). Oh, and the tickets cost far more as well. They even charge you extra for the privilege of leaving the train station.
Upon arriving at the Impulse terminal, we were told our flight had been delayed by two hours. Once the customer service woman told us this, she instantly recoiled and prepared for an onslaught of abuse. I was fine with what she told me, though – I just smiled and shrugged, because there was nothing she could do and she wasn’t responsible for the problem either. I work in customer service and I know what arseholes people can be. She thanked us and said we’d made her job a lot easier, and recommended we go visit the main Qantas and Ansett terminals to kill some time.
We entered the Ansett terminal and an announcement blared over the speaker system, requesting that a Ms Lady Man board her flight. You can’t tell me that’s not the name of a drag queen.
Upon venturing into the shopping area, Adam suddenly stopped and looked strangely at someone walking towards us.
‘Hey. How’s it going?’ he interjected and began walking over to the man. The person in question immediately swerved away and continued walking out of the terminal.
‘That was HG Nelson,’ Adam explained. ‘From Roy & HG! Rude bastard. I will never listen to his radio show or watch him on TV ever,’ he declared. I wanted to follow HG to see where he was going, but Adam wouldn’t let me, having already begun his HG Boycott.
Wandering around the airport terminals for another hour, we inveitably found a travelator – one of those moving walkways which you only see in airports and on Gladiators (which is also home of the Atlasphere™). We had races on these, and then came across some escalators. I thought it would be funny to race Adam up the escalator, except if I was on the escalator travelling in the opposite direction. It ended all bloody when I tripped and cut myself on the razor-sharp steps.
If McDonalds ever sell beer, it’ll be like airport beer. You get slightly pissed really quickly, and then you’re sober about 15 minutes later.
*****
How To Tell If You’re Flying On Impulse Airlines
* Your plane terminal is a giant complex of retail outlets: You’re not flying Impulse Airlines
* Your plane terminal is a giant shed-like construction which features a sign proudly proclaiming the shack was pulled together in less than 50 days: You’re flying Impulse Airlines
* You are served a piping hot meal mid-flight: You’re not flying Impulse Airlines
* A flight attendant appears at the front of the plane mid-flight and throws a sandwich at your head: You’re flying Impulse Airlines
* Safety instructions are clearly explained at the beginning of the flight: You’re not flying Impulse Airlines
* You are offered to hire an ‘Optional Customer Care Package’ for $10 at the beginning of the flight, which consists of an oxygen mask and life jacket: You’re flying Impluse Airlines
* Your boarding pass is a ticket which clearly outlines where your seat is, along with the terms and conditions of the ticket: You’re not flying Impulse Airlines
* Your boarding pass resembles a supermarket receipt: You’re flying Impulse Airlines
* Your boarding pass features Shop-A-Docket advertisements on the reverse: You’re definitely flying Impulse Airlines
*****
I was in a band briefly last year – the drummer had this strange concept where he’d record the band playing and me singing, and then he’d put it all into his computer and fuck around with it so badly it sounded nothing like what they’d played in the first place. It didn’t even sound like music. In fact, in places the guy just put static where there really shouldn’t have been any. It sounded quite similar to someone trying to tune their FM radio into a station that just quite isn’t there.
I’ve always wanted to be in a band, but my initial inspiration for this is a little crap. When I was a kid in Torquay, the Screaming Jets played a live gig and I went along to see it. I thought they were really cool (my, how times change). The only band I have a chance of getting into is some kind of crap covers band.
I generally despise cover bands, but cover bands who re-interpret songs are mildly passable. Although it must be said that most bands who cover songs and mess around with them usually murder them beyond relief. One particular case that immediately comes to mind is the band Ash – I remember they covered a Nirvana song on one of their singles (I can’t remember which song). All I remember is that in the original Nirvana song, there was one bit where Kurt just screamed brilliantly, and all Tim from Ash could manage was a non-commital ‘meep’.
*****
Now that my mum knows I’m comfortable with her knowing that I’m gay she seems to be telling everyone.
Mum: You remember your old literature teacher at high school?
Me: Um… yes?
Mum: Would you tell her you were gay if you had the chance?
Me: I don’t really know her.
Mum: But would you?
Me: Um… I guess so.
Mum: Oh, that’s good. Because I’ve told her that you’re gay.
Me: What? I don’t even know her!
Mum: Yeah, I told her in case your old English teacher wanted someone to talk to.
Me: You told my old English teacher too?!
Mum: That’s okay isn’t it?
Me: Yeah, but…
Mum: I see them all the time because of your sister at school, so…
Me: You’re really taking charge of all this aren’t you?
*****
I arrived back to work on Monday and went to the toilet, where the toilet bowl promptly attempted to take a dump on me, instead of vice versa. Blocked up pipes were the conclusion, and the toilets were closed.
I had an interesting conversation with Big Mo about those little strawberry & cream lollies. Apparently they’re called Queen’s Nipples in Sweden; those wacky porn-crazy Swedes.
A lot of Adam’s jeans and boxer shorts have holes in the bottom because of his kick-boxing. His pants tend to rip when he’s thrown lots of kicks in them. This explains the conversation I had with McCraig on Monday morning:
McCraig: Ha ha ha!
Me: What?
McCraig: I can see your nuts!
Me: Ha ha.
McCraig: No, really!
Me: Er… what?
McCraig: I can see your scrotum!
Me: (feels pants) Oh my fucking god.
McCraig: HAHAHAHHAHA!
Me: (quickly shoves legs together) There’s holes in my pants AND my boxers!
McCraig: I know!
Me: Yazz!
McCraig: Um… what?
Me: Yazz!
McCraig: Yazz?
Me: You know, the 80’s band? ‘The Only Way Is Up’?
McCraig: Yes… but… why ‘Yazz’?
Me: They were so bad, ‘Yazz’ is my new curse word.
McCraig: Not as bad as you. At least they didn’t have scrotie pants!
Me: Scrotie pants? Oh dear.
McCraig: (yells) SCROTIE PANTS!
Nearly everyone in office: (looks at me)
*****
I slunk over to Vanessa Undresser’s desk to escape McCraig. She didn’t seem that happy.
Me: What’s wrong?
Vanessa Undresser: Oh, I just got a call from my old boyfriend.
Me: Oh.. the flame’s still burning, is it?
Vanessa Undresser: Not really. He’s a fireman.
Me: Ah. What’s his name?
Vanessa Undresser: Simon.
Me: Wow. He has a rhyming name.
Vanessa Undresser: What?
Me: Simon. Simon the Fireman. He can’t have been that bad.
Vanessa Undresser: Oh, he was.
Me: What’s the attraction with firemen anyway?
Vanessa Undresser: They save you from burning buildings!
Me: Oh, come on. When was the last time you were in a burning building?
Vanessa Undresser: You wouldn’t be able to do it.
Me: Don’t laugh, I almost went for a job as a fireman once.
Vanessa Undresser: Ha ha ha! The only fireman type job you could go for is a stripper dressed as a fireman!
Me: What?!
Vanessa Undresser: Your scrotie pants. Word’s getting around, you know.
Me: Yazz!
*****
Vanessa Undresser has been participating in aerobics classes lately, but it’s straining her body.
Vanessa Undresser: I’ve got the sorest bum.
Me: It’ll all be worth it in the end, though.
Vanessa Undresser: I’m not so sure. The only way I can walk around without my arse hurting is if I clench my bum cheeks.
Me: Oh, it’s not that bad, surely.
Vanessa Undresser: I guess not. So many of the other women in there look fabulous, I’ll be like them soon I suppose.
Me: Exactly.
Vanessa Undresser: Actually, I saw these drag queens on Foxtel last night. They were amazing.
Me: Why so?
Vanessa Undresser: They just looked like so much more of a woman than me.
Me: You’re being outdone by a drag queen?
Vanessa Undresser: Yes! And I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
Me: So why not compete with them? Dress up as a drag queen when you come to work.
Vanessa Undresser: How would that work?
Me: Very simple. You’re a woman impersinating a man impersinating a woman. Any questions?
