Just in case anyone was wondering why Tim Rogers was my hero...
Rove, crap show, but Tim Rogers was on tonight wearing a pink pirate suit complete with skull and cross-bones hat... Who ever said that Hillsong was the only great thing to come out of the Hills district?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
1997 trapped inside a conversation, The party was so loud I felt like an abbreviation of myself.
I had an interesting experience on the walk home from uni tonight.
Finishing my Regulation of the Media tute at 9pm, I had just picked up some dinner and was walking down Broadway to my humble but lovely home. I was strolling past the Abercrombie Hotel nodding my head sympathetically to the drum ´n bass that pulsed through its smelly, beer and smoke infused walls when I noticed a group of three or four lads walking in the other direction. They were pretty young, probably 18 or 19, and judging by the presence of open Woodstock´s and TED´s coupled with their attire and cocky gait, they were most likely residents of St Paul´s College at Sydney Uni. Maybe young country lads, sent out by their hard-working bush parents to experience tertiary education and (a type of) urban living. Maybe they were city kids, most likely private school types from suburbs like Vaucluse, Clifton Gardens, Pymble (where I lived until about a month ago). They were almost certainly one of the two. Maybe they were a mix. I don´t care.
As our paths crossed several of them sniggered at me as I walked past. I couldn´t really work out why. The biggest of the gentleman leant over as we past each other and in between giggles said ´hey sexy´.
Hey sexy?
Without the chance to respond I started to compile a list of possible reasons for this in my head. Was it
a) Because I was eating sushi?
b) Because I was wearing a purple shirt?
c) Because I was walking down the street instead of rowing?
d) Because they were jealous of my sexily-matted strawberry-blonde hair and used-to-be-an-active-child-but-now-mostly-sleeps-during-the-day complexion?
e) Because difference is funny... And in this case I was not in accordance with the boat-shoes/collar up policy found in Section 4, Subsection A, Paragraph 12 of the ´College Boys Handbook of How to Dress, Act, Talk and Walk: Fitting in perfectly on the inside, Appearing like knob-ends to everyone else´
I´m not sure exactly which of these reasons, if any were the cause of this display. It does not matter. What I thought was funny about it was that they had clearly mistaken me for the wrong person...
While I may live in the inner-west of Sydney now (making me cooler than all of you. Fact.), and dress in a way that makes me appear different to them, and may be humming a song that wasn´t by Pete Murray... At the end of the day I´m still a private school wanker just like you! I have spent virtually my entire life on the upper north shore, I went to a prestigious private school where I played footy and was often a dick to people... If anything I am way more like you than you are(?). We were arrogantly strolling around passing judgement on people when you dicks were still innocent enough to respect those of different class, colour and creed. We were turning up our collars and wearing our real-life blinkers fused on by christian studies classes while you were still wearing speedos and painting yourself in black body paint for your primary school´s annual play that sent a powerful message about tolerance and the Rainbow Serpent´s whacky adventures during the Dreamtime.
The point is, high school is over now, and even though we were all pompous wankers then, there is no stipulation stating that we must remain the same for years to come.
College boys are quite possibly the very last on my list of groups in societies that scare me. Just tell them that they are looking a but thin and should probably think about creatine if they want to play Uni 4ths Colts this year. Oh yeah, and for the way you act most of you guys are suprisingly shit at footy. I´ve got mates who are not even a tenth of the wanker you guys are, that are playing in way better teams than you. If you really want to leave me intimidated with nothing to say, send some angry surfies from coastal areas of NSW. You can´t reason with some of those guys. Before you´ve even made a quip about how sick their mum´s Commodore looks when its smoking up the car park, especially with their little sister´s pre-HSC baby seat in the back they´ve usually screamed ´Fuck off blow-in´ and punched you.
By the way, this post is mostly for humourous effect. Most people from all demographics are at the end of the day quite nice... It is fun to stereotype though.
Finishing my Regulation of the Media tute at 9pm, I had just picked up some dinner and was walking down Broadway to my humble but lovely home. I was strolling past the Abercrombie Hotel nodding my head sympathetically to the drum ´n bass that pulsed through its smelly, beer and smoke infused walls when I noticed a group of three or four lads walking in the other direction. They were pretty young, probably 18 or 19, and judging by the presence of open Woodstock´s and TED´s coupled with their attire and cocky gait, they were most likely residents of St Paul´s College at Sydney Uni. Maybe young country lads, sent out by their hard-working bush parents to experience tertiary education and (a type of) urban living. Maybe they were city kids, most likely private school types from suburbs like Vaucluse, Clifton Gardens, Pymble (where I lived until about a month ago). They were almost certainly one of the two. Maybe they were a mix. I don´t care.
As our paths crossed several of them sniggered at me as I walked past. I couldn´t really work out why. The biggest of the gentleman leant over as we past each other and in between giggles said ´hey sexy´.
Hey sexy?
Without the chance to respond I started to compile a list of possible reasons for this in my head. Was it
a) Because I was eating sushi?
b) Because I was wearing a purple shirt?
c) Because I was walking down the street instead of rowing?
d) Because they were jealous of my sexily-matted strawberry-blonde hair and used-to-be-an-active-child-but-now-mostly-sleeps-during-the-day complexion?
e) Because difference is funny... And in this case I was not in accordance with the boat-shoes/collar up policy found in Section 4, Subsection A, Paragraph 12 of the ´College Boys Handbook of How to Dress, Act, Talk and Walk: Fitting in perfectly on the inside, Appearing like knob-ends to everyone else´
I´m not sure exactly which of these reasons, if any were the cause of this display. It does not matter. What I thought was funny about it was that they had clearly mistaken me for the wrong person...
While I may live in the inner-west of Sydney now (making me cooler than all of you. Fact.), and dress in a way that makes me appear different to them, and may be humming a song that wasn´t by Pete Murray... At the end of the day I´m still a private school wanker just like you! I have spent virtually my entire life on the upper north shore, I went to a prestigious private school where I played footy and was often a dick to people... If anything I am way more like you than you are(?). We were arrogantly strolling around passing judgement on people when you dicks were still innocent enough to respect those of different class, colour and creed. We were turning up our collars and wearing our real-life blinkers fused on by christian studies classes while you were still wearing speedos and painting yourself in black body paint for your primary school´s annual play that sent a powerful message about tolerance and the Rainbow Serpent´s whacky adventures during the Dreamtime.
The point is, high school is over now, and even though we were all pompous wankers then, there is no stipulation stating that we must remain the same for years to come.
College boys are quite possibly the very last on my list of groups in societies that scare me. Just tell them that they are looking a but thin and should probably think about creatine if they want to play Uni 4ths Colts this year. Oh yeah, and for the way you act most of you guys are suprisingly shit at footy. I´ve got mates who are not even a tenth of the wanker you guys are, that are playing in way better teams than you. If you really want to leave me intimidated with nothing to say, send some angry surfies from coastal areas of NSW. You can´t reason with some of those guys. Before you´ve even made a quip about how sick their mum´s Commodore looks when its smoking up the car park, especially with their little sister´s pre-HSC baby seat in the back they´ve usually screamed ´Fuck off blow-in´ and punched you.
By the way, this post is mostly for humourous effect. Most people from all demographics are at the end of the day quite nice... It is fun to stereotype though.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
´Remember the first time I gave you a big old shake?´
The title of this entry quotes the exact words spoken to me by one L. Forbes at around 6am, Saturday, the day after St Patricks day...
After a suitable post-work gunning, it was decided the best way to end the night would be to trespass on the grounds of a prestigious Sydney boys private school and admire the view of the harbour... This evolved (obviously) into the aforementioned waking up the one homeless man in Waverton to ask him if he would like a cigarette, to which his response was to say ´no mate´put his blanket back on and go back to sleep. Mr Forbes, deeply offended, then proceeded to question this man´s homeless status asking loudly ´What kind of bum turns down a smoke?´ and ´His blankets look dry-cleaned! What kind of bum has dry-cleaned sheets?´ (the obvious answer would have been a bum in Waverton but it was very early in the morning). I attempted to reason with him suggesting that the gentleman may not be a smoker to which he replied ´bullshit, every bum smokes. Fact. You look like you need another shake Ross-Edwards´. He followed up this statement by aggressively shaking me from the shoulders.
Sources confirmed that later in the day another incident occured when Mr Forbes ran into said derelict at a local bottle shop. The resident of Waverton Park´s only bench had allegedly ¨just popped down to pick up a case of Crownies, just in case I entertain at some stage of the weekend and someone isn`t a wine drinker¨. Mr Forbes had simply been inquiring to the shops management why they did not keep their methylated spirits in the fridge. After a heated debate CCTV footage shows Mr Forbes violently shaking both the stores manager, and the young female assistant before he purchased a bag of ice and quietly left.
Mr Forbes is quoted as saying ¨ït was one of those good violent shakes where you slap them a bit and you almost feel bad about it after¨.
After a suitable post-work gunning, it was decided the best way to end the night would be to trespass on the grounds of a prestigious Sydney boys private school and admire the view of the harbour... This evolved (obviously) into the aforementioned waking up the one homeless man in Waverton to ask him if he would like a cigarette, to which his response was to say ´no mate´put his blanket back on and go back to sleep. Mr Forbes, deeply offended, then proceeded to question this man´s homeless status asking loudly ´What kind of bum turns down a smoke?´ and ´His blankets look dry-cleaned! What kind of bum has dry-cleaned sheets?´ (the obvious answer would have been a bum in Waverton but it was very early in the morning). I attempted to reason with him suggesting that the gentleman may not be a smoker to which he replied ´bullshit, every bum smokes. Fact. You look like you need another shake Ross-Edwards´. He followed up this statement by aggressively shaking me from the shoulders.
Sources confirmed that later in the day another incident occured when Mr Forbes ran into said derelict at a local bottle shop. The resident of Waverton Park´s only bench had allegedly ¨just popped down to pick up a case of Crownies, just in case I entertain at some stage of the weekend and someone isn`t a wine drinker¨. Mr Forbes had simply been inquiring to the shops management why they did not keep their methylated spirits in the fridge. After a heated debate CCTV footage shows Mr Forbes violently shaking both the stores manager, and the young female assistant before he purchased a bag of ice and quietly left.
Mr Forbes is quoted as saying ¨ït was one of those good violent shakes where you slap them a bit and you almost feel bad about it after¨.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
I didn´t come here looking for no fix.e
I would like to firstly apologise for the huge amount of time it has been since I have last posted something here. I know I have let thousands of you down, and that for many the closest they can get to me is to read my cunning and witfully crafted takes on modern/post-modern living in the vague hope that one day my name will be added the list of contributors in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. Hopefully my entry would be in the ´last words´section where before my glorious death I would have said something witty like ´Put me back on my bike you tramp´ or ´did you here what Simmo got up to on the weekend? Maniacal bastard! Also I feel pretty rubbish myself, I feel I may never live to watch said lunatic smash another tin of Vic...´
Simmo aside, there has been numerous reasons I have not been able to post lately, some of which I will list here.
1. I moved out of home. I now live in the tranquil inner-west suburb of Chippendale where the pubs are cheaper, dingier, smokier, far more numerous, a lazy stroll and in general a much greater laugh. So I´ve been getting pissed a fair bit more regularly lately. At home the only pub I could walk to was the Pymble Hotel, that place sucks. Additionally, not owning a computer has put a fair dent in my ¨online time¨. Luckily my flatmate, the dashing Chilean Gerardo or ¨FES¨ has not only a computer, but worked out how to get free wireless internet from our apartment. The result: I am currently sitting on our households equivalent of a couch (fold up camping chairs with drink holder arm rests) typing away while Gerardo sits next to me in our households equivalent of a sunken lounge area (tired looking royal-blue beanbag stolen from Peach´s bedroom) whilst slaying fantasy demons and rooting fem-serpents courtesy of Playstation 2. My other flatmate Nikki away at our households equivalent of The Hamptons (North Sydney. At work.)
2. My life has been lacking the usual pizazz that has previously made BCorTM hot property on any self respecting persons web-history. This has translated to very little to write about, except looking for places to live for a month straight, with the only worthy topics to come out of that being that most Real Estate Agents are, and I don´t like to use this word often, cunts. I have been even more non-threatening than usual lately, unless you are the licensee of a certain bar in North Sydney with the initials V and C, in which case a showdown is inevitable. James´tip: bloodbath.
- I also slapped a woman in the face about a month ago, pretty hard too.
3. I´ve been busy taking on the world at squash. By the world I mean Pidge, Brad ´Simmo´ Simon and my brother, once a week for an hour usually. They´re all rubbish, I kick arse. Fact.
Simmo aside, there has been numerous reasons I have not been able to post lately, some of which I will list here.
1. I moved out of home. I now live in the tranquil inner-west suburb of Chippendale where the pubs are cheaper, dingier, smokier, far more numerous, a lazy stroll and in general a much greater laugh. So I´ve been getting pissed a fair bit more regularly lately. At home the only pub I could walk to was the Pymble Hotel, that place sucks. Additionally, not owning a computer has put a fair dent in my ¨online time¨. Luckily my flatmate, the dashing Chilean Gerardo or ¨FES¨ has not only a computer, but worked out how to get free wireless internet from our apartment. The result: I am currently sitting on our households equivalent of a couch (fold up camping chairs with drink holder arm rests) typing away while Gerardo sits next to me in our households equivalent of a sunken lounge area (tired looking royal-blue beanbag stolen from Peach´s bedroom) whilst slaying fantasy demons and rooting fem-serpents courtesy of Playstation 2. My other flatmate Nikki away at our households equivalent of The Hamptons (North Sydney. At work.)
2. My life has been lacking the usual pizazz that has previously made BCorTM hot property on any self respecting persons web-history. This has translated to very little to write about, except looking for places to live for a month straight, with the only worthy topics to come out of that being that most Real Estate Agents are, and I don´t like to use this word often, cunts. I have been even more non-threatening than usual lately, unless you are the licensee of a certain bar in North Sydney with the initials V and C, in which case a showdown is inevitable. James´tip: bloodbath.
- I also slapped a woman in the face about a month ago, pretty hard too.
3. I´ve been busy taking on the world at squash. By the world I mean Pidge, Brad ´Simmo´ Simon and my brother, once a week for an hour usually. They´re all rubbish, I kick arse. Fact.
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