So, I got the Atom. My SIM card has been sitting in the mailbox all week because the deadshits at m8 sent it to me instead of my parent’s address like I specified, except of course no one realised it had arrived (I know, I know, I should check the mail, but I wasn’t expecting anything). That wouldn’t have been so bad if dad hadn’t already called up m8 and had them disable the SIM card and have another one sent out… So now I have to wait another few days unless I can ring them tomorrow and have it re-enabled. For fuck’s sake.

Anyway. The Atom. It’s pretty cool but I don’t like it. I know that’s a strange thing to be saying after just getting it, but it was mainly dad pushing for me to get it in the first place. He gets so giddy like a child about technological shit that it’s kind of hard to turn him down. He has great fun researching devices and deals and salivating over the anticipation to the big purchasing splurge. All along I really just wanted a normal mobile phone and now that the rush of excitement from hunting down the Atom has worn off and I’ve had some time to play with it I’m regretting it. They’re good little machines, they’re just not what I want. They’re a PDA first and phone second and that’s mainly the problem.

Fortunately I can just give it back to dad and I’ll get myself a normal mobile. I’ve done a wee bit more research (and nearly did a compulsive buy-it-now on eBay just then) for the Samsung D600. It’s similar to the Nokia 6280 yet apparently better according to that site (although not 3G) and cheaper. The added benefit is that I can get one ASAP and it won’t be locked to the 3 network like the 6280s are. I guess I’ll need a SIM card first. ARGH.


Edit: better than Blue Steel


Not quite.

I did it! I turned up in a travel agent! All by myself!

I slapped down a $150 deposit on my flight with Air Tahiti (I promise they’re decent) to Paris, departing on the 2nd of June. It goes via the USA but I only have 2 hour waits on transfers, so I won’t be getting outside the terminal. Now I just have to pay the rest off in the next week or so and organise travel insurance, an international youth card and perhaps somewhere to stay for a few days when I get over to Frog land.

The plan is to spend some time recovering from jet lag and checking out Paris for a few days then trekking down south to Bordeaux to touch Benecke, then I guess we’ll just play it by ear from there. Hopefully. I might have to get an ongoing ticket or something so that they let me into the country to begin with. I’ll see what happens.

Not sure whether to bother applying for a UK working visa yet or not. I’ll see how I feel.

I need to look up some backpacks for research. Good old backpacks.


Happy Mardi Gras. I smell like cask wine (since it was poured all over me about 7 times).

I lost my fucking phone tonight. Somehow. I wasn’t even that gone when it happened, I just didn’t notice. Yeah, sorry if anyone tried to SMS me, I think it’s still on the grass of Hyde Park since no one has fucking answered it whenever I ring it. Sounds like Optus is getting a phone call tomorrow.

Joel’s dad tried to kill Ross and I last week with glass. This week he’s been packing up to move out. FUCK WIN.

All the jobs I’ve applied for/had phone calls about haven’t gotten back to me at all.

I’m booking my flight to France to meet up with Benecke on Monday.

I’m getting a 2 year working holiday visa for the UK which only allows 12 months of actual work for ~$200.

I bought a 60 gig iPod and conformed along with headphones worth $300 (but cheaper – thanks eBay [what’s with the second letter capitals?]).

I’ve been eating a wee bit of garlic lately. Makes my breath stink but it makes my soul happy.

I’ve also picked up a nasty habit of being a near-chain smoker when I’m drinking. I know it’s bad for me but I enjoy it, so bring on the downfall.

The other bad habit that’s come to play is that I’m eating again when I’m drunk. I blame Andrew for not having any self control. I can do it solo but not when someone else wants food. Bah.

At least I’m occasionally brushing my teeth at night again these days. How exciting.

That’s all, folks.

P.S. sorry that I only seem to update in the early morning when I’m drunk. At least it makes me more honest. I’m proud I still come across as (reasonably) coherent and with (seemingly) accurate spelling and punctuation. Good times.

P.P.S. go nuts.


Alright. I’ve put these all off for too long. Let’s get into it, then. There’s a lot to read about.

Saturday, 21st of January, 2006 – Michael Harris’ buck’s night.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect with this. I was invited along way back in late August/early September after I caught up with the man I affectionately called “Bongo” during high school for a delicious barbecue dinner. The plan (which was revealed to me approximately 4 days before the actual event) was:

  • participate in a manly session of paintball during the morning
  • clean up and drink beer at a barbecue in Turramurra
  • go to “prestigious” strip club Men’s Gallery
  • continue drinking at bars in the city

I waived the opportunity to attend the paintball and barbecue due to needing the money from work (and being too much of a wuss to weasel my way out of the shift) and went home to change clothes while everyone else was in Turramurra. Having never been to any exotic dancing establishment before that anyone would remotely consider describing “clean” I thought I might gussy myself up as an attempt to make myself appear presentable. It turned out that a collared shirt and non-ripped jeans made me look overdressed.

When I arrived outside the club I was met by my old friend Vincent. He was patiently holding vigil while I walked from the bus stop at the QVB. Following him inside I was slapped by a $50 entrance fee – a sum I was prepared for as I was under the impression we had our own function room hired with some pre-arranged food and drinks. In reality, our function room was a table towards the front with a small “reserved” sign dropped on top of it; the drinks were $7.50 for a bottle of VB and $9 for Toohey’s Extra Dry and the food was four plates of party pies.

Fortunately, half of the group decided to take dear old Bongo into a private show for the pre-9pm price of $65. This provided me with a golden opportunity to achieve my $50 of value from the club by devouring as many party pies as I could before anyone else got back to eat them. I think I got through about $20 worth. Not too bad.

We were inside the place from 8:30pm right up to 11:45pm. It doesn’t sound like long, but when you’re sitting in a room (literally one room, check out the photo on the site) full of silent men (almost none of which you know, let alone speak to often) doing nothing apart from drinking, hiding their erections and waving fake “dancer dollars” around in order to fool themselves that they’re actually appealing individuals it feels like an eternity. Especially when you’re sober, hanging out for your pay cheque that doesn’t arrive for another week and sober since the drinks are ludicrously priced.

Value was added to my experience, thankfully, when Vinnie bought me a scotch and coke and a decent cigar. I’m an easy man to please. Alright, it was fun looking at a bit of flesh, too. There were certainly some sexy women dancing but most of what I would describe as “talent” were just the regular waitresses. Oh well.

After we finally left no one knew what to do next. Everyone was stone cold sober and almost out of pocket due to the cash they’d been throwing around willy nilly. I was strapped and I’d only spent the $50 on entry. All I wanted to do was drink and forget that it had all happened. Instead, everyone bitched and moaned about where to go and we ended up sitting outside Bar 333 for 40 minutes trying to get in, only to fail due to our group constituting what is known as a “sausage fest”. This meant that we had to jump onto the back of a large group of girls that randomly turned up in order to preserve the hallowed 1:1 male/female balance inside the club.

Inside was boring. Boring and expensive. Expensive to the tune of $8 shots. I bought one in desperation and fortunately scored a glass of champagne after someone ordered some for a toast. No one spoke inside the bar, either. I was having so much fun I almost sunk to the new low of going up to unaccompanied girls and starting a conversation in order to escape the sheer and utter boredom of being there. I probably would have, if I was drunk. Instead of getting my mack on I politely (and honestly) told Harris that I was tired and broke and would be leaving. He didn’t seem to mind and neither did I.

As I began my hour long walk back to Newtown, I sussed out every pub and bar along the way to see if, for some unknown and unexpected reason, I should bother going inside on my own. Every single place looked unappealing for various reasons. Eventually I made it back to my flat and ended up falling asleep in my chair for 20 minutes while I maintained my boredom on IRC at 2:45am on a Saturday night.

This Saturday is the wedding. I still have to buy a wedding present.

Thursday, 26th of January, 2006 – Big Day Out.

This day started literally at the beginning of the day – midnight. On a whim, I’d swung by to pick up Benecke, Frank and Byrne from Byrne’s place in Hunter’s Hill after work. I was also driving Andrew as we alternate who drives to work. The lads wanted a lift into King street and were already mildly intoxicated from three bottles of cheap wine. Not one to spoil a party, I happily obliged.

We met up with Kate and Jibby at Kelly’s hotel and continued to drink until the lights were turned on and we were kicked out. Typically, we’d planned ahead and stashed a few empty pint and schooner glasses inside people’s jumpers and hand bags and succeeded in smuggling them outside. The only disappointment in this subterfuge was that our grand plan of concealing the cups inside empty Smith’s chips packets was foiled (pardon the pun) when a waitress decided she’d pick up our bag of glass. God knows why anyone would pick up a non-empty packet, but she did. Bitch.

After a brief encounter with the police outside the Town Hall hotel due to our gang bashing of Benecke which resulted in his shoes being thrown across the road after dumping him on a particularly uncomfortable looking bench, everyone went home. Andrew and I foolishly stayed up playing FIFA 2006 or some other game, I can’t remember. We didn’t get to bed until about 5am. I’m not sure why, really.

The latest dotmaen, RenoZuken, or Dylan, or Dilly Bag, or D-Train, or various other D names was due to arrive around 9am or thereabouts. He was on time. This meant that palmy and I had to get up, shower, purchase vodka hip flasks, purchase leukoplast tape, purchase sunscreen and make it onto the train bound for Strathfield in order to get to Homebush at 11:30am in time for the festival. We were on time. Everyone we were meant to meet there wasn’t.

Eventually we all got our tickets (thanks, nachos!) and pushed our way into the front of the queue to enter. This was a success. Another success was smuggling in the 11 standard drinks worth of vodka that we had purchased that managed to remain strapped to our legs under our shorts, courtesy of some tactical leukoplast wrapping. The failure came when we lost most of the hair on our upper legs when the time came to remove the tape. The moment of sadness was brief as palmy and I both finished the entire contents of our vodka bottles within 45 minutes. Most of the day after this (ie, practically all of it) was a blur. He’s a rundown of the key events that I can recall in another convenient list (I reserve right to have the events out of order due to the fact that I was off my tits):

  • dancing in the boiler room (this is where we drank our crunk juice)
  • running around drunk trying to get to the front of the mosh pit for Mudvayne
  • having my shoes nearly ripped apart halfway through Mudvayne’s set (which I was thoroughly enjoying, mainly due to the fact that the alcohol had made everything other than the beat of the music incoherent – perfect for moshing!)
  • going back to the boiler room to dance on my own for a bit since my shoes wouldn’t have survived re-entering the Mudvayne pit and no one else had left
  • waiting around the Wendy’s to try and find people and instead having 3 random people ask me to do them completely different small favours (all unfortunately non-sexual)
  • eventually having to hunt down who I was looking for at the other end of the showgrounds
  • trying to keep palmy alive after he almost passed out from jumping around too much at Mudvayne
  • getting 2 beers at a time from the Toohey’s Extra Dry tent
  • standing around the outside of the green stage for 30 minutes during Sarah Blasko’s set waiting for Jibby to find me whilst I drank both my beers and spoke to a lady about her camera
  • getting more beer at the Extra Dry tent and finding that a chicken burger had revitalised palmy
  • going off to see the Kings of Leon and scoring a dubious cigarette
  • squirting sunscreen over half of the crowd and getting away with it, bar the fact that a security guard held a hose on me for 20 seconds (this may have been during a different band, I can’t remember)
  • running off to catch the last part of Henry Rollins’ spoken word at the green stage and being upset that I didn’t get to see Soulwax
  • going back inside the main arena and queuing up for Franz Ferdinand while they were already playing then being at the front of the line to get into the mosh pit for what would have been the White Stripes (Iggy was playing on the other side)
  • leaving the queue in boredom only to return again and push up to the front of the non-moshpit crowd for Iggy and the Stooges
  • going back outside and falling asleep for an hour, missing the White Stripes
  • blindly following palmy’s green shirt towards the boiler room through the crowd in the dark after being awoken
  • dancing topless inside the boiler room until the place closed down
  • having my shoes finally ripped completely apart whilst boarding the train :(

When I say it like that it sounds like I didn’t really do much. It felt like a lot at the time. I’m sure more things happened, I just can’t remember but I suppose I was rather out of my head, so I can live with that. After we got back to Newtown we returned to Kelly’s and stole another 3 pint glasses then stayed up for a few more hours in the flat.

By the time I went to bed, I’d already turned 23. It was a very happy Australia day.

Saturday, 28th of January, 2006 – palmy’s housewarming.

Originally, palmy wanted to have his housewarming the very first weekend that he moved in. I told him no. Instead, we had it this night.

Both of us had work that day (I always work Saturdays) during the morning and early afternoon, so I frantically began cleaning up after we got back to the flat (virtually a solo effort, naturally). I can’t be bothered listing all the names of the people that came, but there were a considerable amount.

I suppose I may have still had a lot of alcohol sitting in my system from Thursday. Either way, I managed to deceptively get myself very drunk off white russians (what else?) or perhaps it was from the beer I sculled with some others from our newly-acquired pint glasses. Fortunately I didn’t get so drunk that I became sick. Just the way I like it.

Basically it was just a fun party with the odd highlight here and there. Some to do with me, some without. I’m not going to spoil the fun and fess up to my antics – that’s what everyone else can gossip about ;). Instead, I’ll mention that Simba somehow broke my computer chair in the most amazing way I have ever seen. He ripped the handles clean off as if they were cut with a laser. I was so impressed I wasn’t at all annoyed. I suppose it helped a little that he handed me $50 out of guilt, too. Nothing else was broken, no one fell off the balcony, no one threw up in our bathroom (I think people threw up in Joel’s next door) and palmy finally got to fully christen his new bed.

In the morning, after everyone else had left, Ross drove me to McDonald’s for breakfast. During our meal we challenged each other to take our shirts off and continue eating. We sat there quietly, topless, chewing away when a young man walked in from outside and gained our attention by calling to us. We turned to face him only to find that he, too, had removed his shirt and joined in on our fun. He then proceeded to offer us both ice and coke. Unsure of how to react to any aspect of this situation, we smugly said, “no, thanks”, before returning to our food. To apply a little icing to our stupidity of eating in Mickey D’s shirtless, I returned to the counter and ordered some hotcakes for Ross and I to share (I’d had a craving for weeks; I think I’m pregnant).

As we left I decided to test out the local drug dealer and asked him if he really had any ice and coke. He held up his drink cup and let me have a sip of his ice and coke. Ironically, the ingredients in Coca-Cola’s post mix are probably more brain-damaging than most other illicit substances. I smiled as I drank because thinking of this made me feel like a hard man.

It took me two days to summon up the energy to clean the apartment. We still haven’t taken the trash out.

End of stories!

What a long entry! I wouldn’t have bothered reading it all.

P.S. we killed the biggest, meanest, toughest fucking wolf spider of all time tonight. Eventually. It only took half a can of Pea Beu, one dozen splats with a floor swiffer, eight twists and grinds with aforementioned swiffer and a lot of courage and patience to finally kill the bastard. We dropped him off the balcony.

P.P.S. I’d like to mention that I’m no hater. I don’t mind insects as long as they stay outside. They’re only fair game for murder when they come inside. This is my territory, after all.


The bite is nearly gone. It’s nearly only taken a week. I took photos of the mark with my phone camera the other day. When I can be bothered extracting them off the phone via infra red I’ll upload them so none of you will think I just made the whole story up for attention.

I’ve pumped out 38 pages of test cases so far for this project and still have to do more. I also have to finish off my test plan and schedule and string together a “requirements validation matrix”. This system had better bloody work and work well. If my group gets anything less than a distinction in this course I’ll go postal. I know I whinge about the work I’ve done, but some of the other folks have put a lot more effort and hours and sleepless nights in than me. They deserve to do really well.

We won Actionball tonight! 31-21. I got to play goal keeper, goal defense and wing defense. I was on fire as wing defense. I’d like to play that position again. I don’t mind goal defense either and I’ve been playing that position most games. Goal keeper is too boring for me. I don’t like having to mark up on one person in a small area. I prefer being able to roam around and be either an annoying, harassing defender or a bit of a playmaker/attack back up. Hopefully Pip, our supercoach, likes me in that role.

The shoes I’ve been wearing during the games seem to be giving me blisters. About 3/4 of the way through the game I thought I had a small, sharp stone inside my shoe. Nothing I did seemed to relieve the pain. After the game I started feeling around the sole of my foot inside of my sock and found there was something there to tug on. It turned out to be a piece of flappy, but still connected, skin. That was pleasant.

I don’t think I’ll be getting a whole lot of sleep tonight. I’ve already had two of my dangerously potent coffees today, which is probably the equivalent of 5-6 shots. Maybe I’ll brew another one in a little while. The process works well as both a way of procrastinating and a way of encouraging myself to keep working. Another motivator is that if I go to sleep it’ll feel like I have to go to my management accounting class “sooner”.

So, anyone else think it’s funny that the Smurfs got nuked?


Degree Confluence Project:

Global Positioning System mapping and photography merge to produce one of the most impressive projects on the web. The stated goal is to visit and get reports from “each of the latitude and longitude integer degree intersections in the world”. Pictures and stories from each visit (or attempted visit, if it was discovered to be unreachable) are then posted to the site, offering an amazing snapshot of our beautiful planet.

A total of 160 countries have been visited, including 69 of the 82 confluence points in NSW, with four incomplete attempts. There are still 400 points in Australia up for grabs, so get a GPS unit, a camera and a car and get busy.

Oh dear.

Finally, some controversy:
Do the Schiavo!
Terri again.
Do the Lynndie!

Arnie is governor of California, Jesse Ventura was governor of ?Minnesota, Carl Weathers is apparently soon to be governor of Louisiana and now Sonny Landham (Billy from Predator [former 70s porn star]) is running for governor of Kentucky.


Not that that’s a bad thing. Man. It’s fucking hot, that’s what it is.


Still no net. Hi home.

I need to find out Dad’s special rent account number so I can deposit all of my cash and be poor again. :<

Larry the exetel man says to try a few more things tonight and see what happens, if that doesn’t work he’ll lodge an ADSL fault complaint with Telstra for me, or some crap. God knows.

Stupid ISP only having office hours open during business hours. It’s not fucking good for either me or Scott as we both work outside of and through exetel’s business hours, so there’s only 1 or 2 days a week where we’re home to go through all their bullshit.

I bet the pricks bill me for the first month, too. Real fair. Especially when Larry himself (hallowed-be-thy-name) admitted he wasn’t even sure what the problem was. Hopefully I can fix it tonight, otherwise what’s another few days.

It’s just the convenience of the net that I’m missing. Having to drive home to do netbanking and check my email etc is pretty annoying. I can do most of the basic things at netcafes easily enough, but no fucking way am I doing any actual monetary transactions or banking from one of those places.

So what else have I been doing, then? Hmm.

Well, Scott and I have been checking out a few restaurants up King street, most are alright, bar Guzzle Tandoori opposite us. Totally shit. Lou’s been coming along now and then too. This week I’m gonna try and starve myself a bit because I feel like I’m overeating again and I want to lose some more weight. If that doesn’t work or I can’t handle it I’ll fire up the kick-start diet again and try that out. Yeah, just in time for Christmas. That’s ok though, I don’t really like Christmas food much.

Speaking of food, I think I’m going to Kylie Kwong’s (Kwan? Kwon?) restaurant with Lou and her parents next week… I think. It’s either tomorrow or next week. Hrm. That’s Asian-y food anyway, and if it’s Chinese I don’t particulary get off too much on that either. Still, I’m sure it’ll be fun.

Saw Garden State with Lou last week, very good and enjoyable and it didn’t feel Hollywood-bastardised, which is refreshing for an American movie. Much like all my Troma videos that I’m still ploughing through. I think I’m starting to convert Scott to both TISM and Troma. Look out. He seemed to enjoy the 10 year old TISM video I converted to DVD about some of their exploits. Jolly good.

Last weekend was the Christmas party for where I work. We went to the same place again: Harold Park Paceway (gotta love the trots). The food was alright, very RSL/bistro-y. I didn’t eat any of the seafood, of course. The beer seemed to be watered down but at least it was free. My costume (a “Christmas present”, ie a cardbox box with shoulder straps made of tinsel and wrapped in wrapping paper) fell apart when the wind blew the paper straight off it, so I ditched it. I couldn’t be fucked carrying it from Newtown to Glebe or wherever the Paceway is, I walked 35 minutes to get there.

After the party I decided to go to Newtown, instead of Oxford street where some of my other colleagues went. It turned out another girl I knew from work was hitting up a pub on King street so I met up there with her and more work people I’d never spoken to before. It went well enough. I then had to escort a girl called Alecia around the back streets of Newtown to find the Imperial where some more “upstairs” people from work were hanging around. No one stayed there long though as it was getting a bit late and no one was drinking enough to keep it going. I managed to fluke my way through the back streets and found my apartment really easily. Go me.

On Sunday, Deny came around to pick up his paintings and mum and dad came round to check up on things and help me with a few handyman style jobs. Scott and I were rather amused that orphic never bothered calling or dropping in. I’m sure she’ll have a good excuse. hehe.

As for work, well, I’m simply working too hard (as usual, of course) and I’m getting my RSI symptoms back again. I can only type for a little while before it starts to burn, but I have other odd jobs to keep me going for my 3 ten hour shifts a week. Good times, yes.

Hopefully I’ll be able to work my way in to the IT department after Christmas. Hopefully. We’ll see what happens.

Anyway I suppose I’ll get a wriggle on and get back to the flat. Oh maybe I’ll pay dad first and bust my bank account. Medicare still haven’t paid him his money for about the 6th time this year… Yes, Medicare owes my dad $30k from this year, and still haven’t paid up. They keep saying the forms he submitted must have been lost by Australia Post. Unfortunately for them he’s always delivered them by hand to Medicare’s office drop boxes. Bad luck on the excuses, you pricks.

So, that’s why he wants my money, now. :S


Oh yeah, getting up at 5am for work fucking smokes it.


Forgot about this thing for a while… Well, I’ve been thinking to write for a day or three, just haven’t bothered.

So bored.

I’m reading A Time To Kill. Maybe I should keep reading it instead of sitting around bored.

I sold my copy of FFXI to Dozer, to aid him in his lack of life. ;) Even express posted it and everything! :P

Been hitting up BitTorrent‘s hardcore this last week or so. Downloaded a few games and apps… Also getting a shitload of Spider-Man comics off it. Cool, huh?

Speaking of file-sharing, been abusing WinMX of late as well. Juicy mp3 action.

Lou had the shits with me earlier because I forgot to get her the Sunday Telegraph with a Something For Kate interview on it. I didn’t even remember until 5pm when all the newsagents shut. Oh well. She’s getting a copy off someone anyway.

Oh yeah, bad luck Saddam.

Let’s see, what else.

Had my work christmas party last week, was pretty good fun, bar the shittiest public transport experience of all time. I didn’t get in to bed until 9:15am the next morning, still half drunk fortunately, otherwise I could have been real shitty.

Bought Lou a present for her birthday, some perfume thingy. Conned her in to buying me a Hulk limited edition DVD box set. Looks bonar to me.

Lloyd hasn’t come round at all now that he’s back with Eri, barely even messages me or Ross on MSN any more. Nice to know when you’re just a back up… Apparently he’s been working 40 hours a week though so I guess it must be impossible for him to do anything. :P I suppose he’s still not as soft as Mr Frank-OMG-I-HAVE-A-JOB-WITH-EARLY-HOURS-I-MUST-SLEEP-AT-9PM-Larkin. Hrm.

Good old MajikShoe has just invited me back to Land of Angels for the new GameArena 4v4 RTCW tourney.

I so own at hypertext.

I forget if I said I re-enrolled at uni. That should be riveting. I hope I spelt that right. I’m really keen on finishing my degree, and trying to save up some money in the mean time (going part time) then try and move overseas to like Germany or Sweden for a few years… Then maybe move on to some other countries out of interest. Lou said she was keen too… Wowee.

Looks like she’s been updating her LiveJournal too. :O Hack it up.


Fuck you summer weather.


I’m going to the UAE in February, with Lou. Gonna see my dad’s cousin, Grant, over there. He took mum around there on her holiday and apparently it has bonar shopping and shizzle. Woot. Gonna stay in Singapore for two nights on the way home as well… She’s staying in Thailand for a few days before I meet her over there. Fun fun.

Also, my Microsoft Intellimouse v3 is dying… Have to keep re-plugging it in because the lights keep going out. :( Using my silly old Belkin Nostromo n30 ball mouse instead… :/ It came with the creative, yet dopey n50 SpeedPad… Man that thing would have owned if it worked properly… Well, maybe not owned but it could have been cool.’

By the way, Cam is a lazy bastard.