Her Breasts Hold All the Answers

by Jeb on April 12, 1999

Right now I’m working 13 hour shifts at my university – I’m supervising the evening classes’ exams. As you can imagine, sitting there for 3 hours tends to bore you shitless, so while I was sitting there tonight, I wrote down a list of all the little quirks you see the students doing. You know, fiddling with their hair, chewing on their pen; but I’ve also written a guide so you can see what the students really mean by their actions in an exam situation. Thus:

* Exasperated sigh: I’m only doing this so I get the bloody qualification.
* Absently picking ear: Maybe my ear wax holds the answers.
* Shake of head: Let me just re-arrange my brain cells.
* Rolling head around: Well, if the shaking didn’t work, maybe this will.
* Hand on hip: If I act sassily agressive to the exam, maybe I’ll scare it into letting me pass.
* Fiddling with engagement ring: I’m going to kill my fiance when I get home, even though it’s my fault I didn’t study.
* Continuous looking back at the old woman at the rear of the room: You’re old, you probably studied instead of going out and getting drunk all the time. Mime me an answer. Please.
* Continuous and excessive use of Liquid Paper: Maybe if I inhale enough of this stuff I’ll get smarter.
* Holding pen between two fingers and sucking on it: I really need a cigarette right now.
* Holding Liquid Paper pen between two fingers and sucking down on the Liquid Paper: I really, really need a cigarette right now.
* Continuous looking at the token Baywatch Bimbo of the class: Maybe your voluptuous breasts hold the answers.
* Skulling down beer: I didn’t even bother turning up to the exam because I knew I’d fail anyway, so I thought I’d just get pissed with my mates.
* Continuous looking at the token Baywatch Bimbo of the class, and there’s only 10 minutes of the exam left: If only your breasts weren’t so voluptuous, I might have actually answered some questions.
* Wobbling, jittery leg: I can’t think straight, and I’m working on the assumption that seeing if you shake an Etch-A-Sketch hard enough the picture is cleared, then maybe if I shake my thigh up and down hard enough I’ll be able to clear my head.
* You’ve just poured a glass of wine and are attempting to eat the exam with a knife and fork: I’m mad, and I think this exam is really a piece of roast chicken.
* Squirming in seat: I’m so nervous.
* Constant squirming in seat: I’m so nervous, I just shat myself.
* Inanimate objects suddenly levitate and burst into flame: Maybe summoning Satan for the answers to the exam wasn’t such a good idea after all.

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Erotic Liquorice

by Jeb on April 9, 1999

Sitting on the train today, I noticed someone blow his nose into his tissue, but then he did something I didn’t really expect. He opened his tissue in full view of everyone else to check out the goober he’d snorted out (no doubt giving himself a score out of 10). He probably has a whole system of texture, runniness, color, etc going every time he honks into a tissue.

Someone at work today bought some liquorice today, and on the bag it says “Eating Liquorice”. Think about this for a second. Eating liquorice, as opposed to what? Cooking liquorice? I asked the girl who’d bought it this, and she just absently shrugged, but then Ms Superior butted in (resident bitch at work) and announces “Maybe there could be erotic liquorice,” (this was obviously met with odd stares). “You know, to whip each other with and stuff.” This just confirmed how much I don’t want to know what Ms Superior and her fiance get up to after hours. Then of course I had to open my mouth and take everything too far. “Erotic liquorice.. hmm.. I guess you could call it confucktionery,” I said. I was met with even stranger stares. But that happens anyway without me telling bad jokes.

My flatmate has this Mario World game on his Game Boy, and it’s driving me nuts. I can’t get past the guy with spikes on his head who headbutts me, I’m not sure how to jump over a particular wall, and I’m still trying to figure out how to plant a bomb underneath this weird guy who keeps throwing rocks at me. (Oh. That last bit about the bomb, that wasn’t in the game. That’s me in real life).

Handy Household Hint #15023: Every morning when you get out of bed, wipe that eye-snot stuff out of your eyes into a jar. Then when you have collected enough, you can roll a fish in the dried up eyesnot you have collected, and voila, you have a crumbed fish. Tasty, efficient, but most importantly, economical. Plus you’re recycling.

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Inverse Recycling

by Jeb on April 7, 1999

I found out something interesting today. There are heaps of recycling bins in my workplace, and I make extensive use of these. I even walk the extra distance away from my desk so I can be environmentally friendly, and throw my paper in the recycle bin.

I found out something I’m not supposed to know today. The recycle bins actually don’t get recycled. It’s just to make the business look good. How wacked is that? And to think that in the 3 months I’ve worked there, I’ve probably spent an average of about 3 minutes per day walking to the bin. So.. (hang on… hmm).. I’ve wasted about an hour of my life. I guess I’ll have to wait for daylight savings to come around again before I can claim that wasted hour back.

Because I had Monday off, I had the opportunity to watch some fantastic bad television. I always like watching kid’s game shows, because the hosts are always so crap. I think hosting a kid’s tv game show must be the jobs they give to the people who flunked in TV school. I watched something called Wipeout on Channel 7. The host was just ridiculous. There’s such in depth conversation on these shows..

Dickhead guy hosting the show: And here we have Damien. Hi Damien.
Kid: Uhh. Hi.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: So Damien. What do you like to do.
Kid: I dunno.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: Uhhh, yes you do. What were we talking about backstage just before?
Kid: Umm. Oh, I like basketball.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: GREEEEEAAAAT!!! (flailing arms everywhere) WOW! SO I bet you want to be a pro basketballer when you grow up!!!
Kid: Um. I guess so.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: GREEAAAAAAT!!! Well, let’s play WIPE OUT!! (cue hyperactive music and shots of sugar-fuelled kiddies in the audience)

It’s almost worth watching this show just trying to guess how many centimetres deep the makeup on the host’s face goes. It’s a shocker.

There’s someone at my work who always makes everyone feel like they’re stupid (there’s always one wherever you work). I think I’ve found the key to my revenge today, though. You see, my desk is right near the stationary cupboard, and I’ve noticed the odd rate at which Pacers disappear at my work. (You know, those refillable pencil thingies). Today, I noticed this particular staff member excalim out loud, “Oh shit. My Pacer’s empty”, and then witnessed them throw the Pacer in the bin and trot off to the cupboard to get another one.

I find this quite amusing. This person doesn’t realise Pacers are refillable. I was going to mention the fact to her today, but I’d rather be heartless and vindictive and announce the fact to her when there’s more staff members around. Or maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I’ll just keep this little nuggety fact until I need it.

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Are You a Pervert Yet?

by Jeb on April 7, 1999

At work today, I ventured into the staff lunch room. And then wished I hadn’t. I remembered why I’d been staying away from the place. Every day at lunch time, a certain subculture of the staff at my work huddle together to try and work out the daily general knowledge quiz in the Herald-Sun newspaper. There’s 10 questions. On average, with the power of their 6 minds put together, they get around 0 right. Their record is 3 right answers. It’s painful to watch. I can hear their brains clicking.

Ms Superiority at my work (see yesterday’s entry) got a new desk today. It’s a very big desk. It looks like it’s off the Starship Enterprise, and whenever I sit at her desk to talk with her, I get this unnverving feeling. I think it’s got something to do with the way the desk is positioned, and the type of desk it is – it makes me feel like I’m being interviewed on a tonight live show. Maybe that’s why I always seem to make incredibly crap jokes while I’m at her desk.

You know how sometimes you jump into conversations, then the other people say something incredibly bizarre, and you wonder what the hell they could have been talking about to say something like that. Today on the train I thought I heard two women arguing about what colour they were going to dye their pubes, but maybe I mis heard them.

My classic “whatthefuck?” moment of eavesdropping in on a conversation happened last year on a bus. (There’s no end of lunatics on public transport buses, I find). I had just gotten down in my seat, and one of the guys behind me says, “Well, I don’t think you’re truly a pervert until you pierce your scrotum with a soldering iron and it just feels soooooo good.”

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Drinking Urine

by Jeb on April 5, 1999

Well, my car is still dead, so me and my flatmate had to actually walk to the supermarket today. The 7 minutes almost killed me.

Have you ever noticed when you walk into a supermarket and go to grab one of those red baskets you put your groceries in, that the basket on the top of the pile always, amost without fail, has a piece of lettuce stuck to the bottom? This always happens! Of course, there’s always the aisle with the suspicicously sticky floor, that never seems to becoming un-sticky. Somehow, I don’t think I want to know exactly why the floor is always sticky in the first place.

Conversation I had today:

Stupid friend: Are you still fighting?
Me: Who with?
Stupid friend: That woman.
Me: What woman?
Stupid friend: The woman inside you, trying to get out. Hahhahahahahahha.

(I don’t know how some people manage to crawl out of the abortion bucket.) *cough* Did I say that?

For the very first time today, I had some of that Mountain Dew drink outside of it’s bottle. I poured it into a glass and immediately wished I hadn’t. You see, Mountain Dew isn’t a green drink (as the green bottle would lead us to think). The color is urine yellow. Now I know why they never used a clear bottle.

For some reason, I was watching a Japanese class on Open Learning on the ABC at 4.00am last night on TV. It took me around 15 minutes before I could snap out of the transfixingly bad acting that was used to demonstrate the language. (Well, it was either Open Learning, or the Cyclone Rider infomercial – pity my favourite infomercial, the Space Bag wasn’t on that particular night).

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A Tortured, Drawn Out Death… of a Car

by Jeb on April 4, 1999

Right now my car is sitting in my driveway. I’m waiting for it to die.

You see, for some reason, the parking lights won’t turn off. The RACV won’t come out and fix it unless the car won’t start. So I’m being forced to wait until my car’s battery is drained so much that the car won’t start. Well.. I could get the RACV to come out while I can still start the car, but I’d have to pay for it.

I’m still in shock over the fact that I’m going to have to actually walk to the supermarket for a few days. Eeeek – exercise! (It’s a well known fact amongst my friends that I have a quite physically violent reaction to the words “Aerobics Oz Style”).

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Are You one of the Egg-Holders?

by Jeb on April 3, 1999

It’s Easter. Hence, the acquisition of chocolate eggs, whether you like it or not.

Of course, we all know that Easter chocolate tastes ‘different’. But have you noticed how there’s always somebody that you know that won’t eat their eggs for months on end? Will just leave them there? Someone was talking about this on the radio today and I couldn’t agree more.

There’s always someone. You know, somewhere in August they start going “Huh, I’ve still got some Easter eggs left and you don’t.” The thought that they might actually have gone off doesn’t enter their minds, I guess.

Most Amusing Home Brand Product of the Week #1: Imitation Raspberry Flavour Cordial. (It exists!)

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Piss Off, You Top Quality Shape Wannabe

by Jeb on March 31, 1999

Lately a girl at my work has been gibbering excitedly about the coming of the end of the world. She apparently quite thoroughly believes in Nostradamus’ predictions, and alledgedly the world is going to end on the 29th of May or something. I think that’s a Saturday. (Wouldn’t it be apt if the world ended during Hey Hey It’s Saturday?) Does this supposed event of Armageddon cancel out my Satanic curse (see Sunday 21st March entry)? I guess so.

So here’s this girl, ranting and raving about how the world’s going to end, bla bla bla, trying to scare people. So I ask her “Will you spend every single cent of money you have on your “last day” on earth?” She says ‘Ummm…. no.’ I say, will you do something outrageous that you’ve always wanted to do? Will you run around the street naked? Will you tell your boss you bet he has a really small penis? Will you watch Totally Full Frontal and actually tell someone? Of course, she says ‘No.’ So I’m gonna have a right laugh at her on the first of June. I’m quite looking forward to it, in fact. And I win in both instances, because if we all live I get to laugh at her, and if we all die, well, she wouldn’t have known that we’d all died because it’d be over so quickly anyway.

Last night my work had a function thing with some big knobs in management. It was fairly boring, but coz it ended so late they paid for me to get a cab home. Which would have been absolutely fine, except I had possibly the worst ever taxi driver in Melbourne. His only solitary words of conversation were “I like green things.” (?!) And whenever I directed him somewhere, eg, turn left here please, he’d just pull over and say ‘That’ll be (insert figure of money here) tankyoo’. Even when I started to try and generate some conversation he pulled over! We pulled over 4 times, I kid you not.

Then I got home and went straight to bed. After a while I heard my flatmate making some odd pounding sounds in the living room, which drew my suspicions. I found him kicking furniture, because he’s been watching a whole series of Manga (Japanese cartoons) at the moment, and he thought that he had hired video number 24 in a 24 part series, and thought he’d finally see the end. Then he found out after he’d watched it, that it was actually a 25 part series. He went so far as to proclaim he was going to walk the 30 minutes to the video shop to hire the next episode, but I talked sense into him.

I made a rare trip to McDonalds today, why, I don’t even know. I only went in to get a choc chip muffin. I had my heart set on a choc chip muffin. So I order a choc chip muffin, and the dweeb gives me a blueberry muffin. Which I only find out after I’ve walked 5 minutes away from the stupid place. So back I go, and ask to swap it for a choc chip one please. Back I trot down the road, and what do you know. I’ve got another blueberry muffin. I go back AGAIN, ask for a CHOC CHIP MUFFIN THANK YOU VERY MUCH (politely though very gritted teeth), get another one given to me, and I check it on the spot. What do you think I had? A fucking blue berry muffin. So I asked for my McFucking McMoney McBack. And I got it McBack.

Here’s a quote from a book I’m reading right now, ‘Kindling Does For Firewood’. Quite funny, and the bloke in it thinks like I do. Eg: “It’s fucked. It’s like.. you know, kind of like, you think about colours, and you think blue, red, yellow, green. And then you think, ‘Who the fuck are you green? You’re just yellow and blue. Piss off back to the little league with purple and orange.’ But it is up on those colours. It’s a major colour and yet it’s not”. I love that stupid stuff. Directly following the colours spiel is: “It’s like rectangles. You think square, circle, rectangle, triangle. And then you think “Hey rectangle. You fucking top quality shape wannabe. Piss off.”

If you find that funny, you’ve got a sense of humour like mine. If not, then you’re probably a normal functioning member of society.

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We Don’t Think You’re Sexy! No, Honest!

by Jeb on March 28, 1999

I was driving around in the city last night with a friend, whose car is an absolute heap. A real heap. Anyway, I’m no expert on cars, but something like the exhaust pipe was blowing somewhere it shouldn’t have been, and it was causing the horn to softly toot now and then – even though my mate wasn’t pressing the horn.

This caused a few undesirable situations. Namely, when this girl was crossing the road, and the horn started wildly tooting on it’s own. She gave us the filthiest look – but we weren’t even tooting at her! Eep…

Even worse was when we went to a service station, and my mate got out of the car to get some cigarettes and left the engine running, the horn would toot every now and then softly, but softly enough to get the attention of a guy who wouldn’t have looked out of place in the WWF. He sure didn’t look too happy about being tooted at, and I’m quite sure he would’ve done something about it had he been provoked a little more…

My latest musical purchase: Alchemist’s album “Spiritech” – they’re an industrial band from Canberra, who incidentally, seem to produce a number of fine metal/industrial bands.

I really scared myself last night. I found that the Harvey Norman jingle (you know, “Go Harvey, Go Harvey, GO Harvey Norman”) had subliminally worked its way into my subconscious, and I’d been singing it for the past 5 minutes. That is scary.

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The Death Prophecy of a University Student

by Jeb on March 21, 1999

Had an odd experience at my work on Friday. See, I work in the admin section of a university, and we get students complaining all day. It’s their sole reason for existing. “I failed my subject. I BLAME YOU!”, “The Coke machine isn’t working. I BLAME YOU!”, and “I’m having a really bad hair day, my shoelaces keep coming undone, I told my boyfriend/girlfriend to fuck off and I didn’t mean it, and I’m really pissed off that Good News Week has moved to Channel 10, and I BLAME YOU IMPLICITLY!” are all phrases hurled at me every day.

So, it almost didn’t surprise me when everyone in the office I worked in recieved personalised hate mail. Basically, it’s a fresh first year student (gotta love them.. hehe) straight out of Year 12 who is expecting Uni to be a breeze. *ahem* Welcome to tertiary studies, mister. This guy sent all of us personalised attacks on how hard his subjects are, and apparently it’s all our fault too. He just rambled on and on about the Uni and how much he hates it, then he goes all psycho and religious and starts ranting that the Wrath of Satan will strike each and every one of the admin staff over a 3 month period. Well, I’m waiting. (I have a headache today – does that count?)

Also, I bought KMFDM’s CD ‘Agogo’ on Friday. It’s worth it if only for the hilarious cover of U2′s ‘Mysterious Ways’. This KMFDM release brings the total number of KMFDM albums released to 401,507. Honest.

Great Issues of the 20th Century #1: How come, whenever I make one of my rare appearances at McDonalds, and I order a drink and a DRINK ONLY, I get asked if I would “like any drinks with that” ?! This has happened THREE TIMES! The world is McMad and I’m the only one who’s sane. Aieee! Or something.

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