The decade mark was yesterday. Oops. Just missed it. Now I can see I've missed more than 4,000 exp while I've been here.
Oh well. Could be worse. Could be blowing dudes for crack. There's always something to be thankful for. Blowing dudes for toothpaste, now that's a blessing.
If you live in Sydney, Australia (or pay for accommodation and travel to outside areas) I will come to your house and completely relieve you of the stress of the evening meal. Imagine, a stranger in your kitchen slaving away to satisfy your earthly sustenance requirements! What could be more comforting and secure?
I'm happy to attempt concoction of any meal, however guarantee no kind of quality. My specialties include spaghetti, stir fries, pasta bake and brownies. I am not experienced with fresh vegetables.
Prior to my arrival please ensure any smoke alarms fitted in your residence are easily accessible.
And now the business end of the deal...
1.) I will cook for a maximum of two people (not including myself). I'm not feeding the freaking Brady Bunch here alright.
2.) Client supplies all ingredients and cookware. If deficiencies are found during service I hold no responsibility for improvisations taken.
3.) Preparation time is not to exceed one hour. Consider doing some of the prep yourself or an alternate meal choice if this is unavoidable.
3.) I must at all times be addressed as Surmingstinkylot.
4.) Once preparation has begun there is to be no attempt at communication except in the following circumstances:
a.) A safety issue has arose and I am in danger.
b.) An easier way to complete an undertaken task is available.
5.) If desired, the option to cook without clothes is made available. This includes providing a safe workplace to a naked guest and appropriate safeguards and warning signs put in place to prevent the exposure of a live naked adult body to those unwilling or unready to witness. During my presence nobody else may forgo clothing.
6.) If you don't like the dinner I don't care, it probably tastes better than your genitals. You will not be refunded the cost of labour charges ($0).
7.) At no time will I be engaging in sexual acts. I am not a whore or a slut.
8.) If provided with unlimited beer throughout the evening I will do the dishes. If the beer is XXXX Summer I will also dance half-heartedly during the washing up phase.
9.) On completion of the evening I may require sleeping arrangements, regardless of locality. An attempt at some kind of comfort during the night would be appreciated. Substandard performance in this area will result in a poor review and an unimpressed PM.
10.) No transfer of currency is required to take place unless paragraph 2 is in effect.
11.) Photos or videos including myself are prohibited throughout the occasion unless I have given prior approval.
12.) At any stage I reserve the right to cancel any agreement made and depart the premises at desired level of hastiness. I will not be held liable for any damages or expected to make any sort of reimbursement.
Call me on my bananaphone if interested. Yellow-yellow-yellow, yellow-yellow-yellow-yellow.
I'm not a huge webcomic fan by any stretch, despite having been following Ctrl-Alt-Del for years now. Apart from CAD I've just never found a comic that's been consistently entertaining long enough for me to stick with it, they all seem to get boring after a while. White Ninja, xkcd (ESPECIALLY xkcd, I've got Digg as my homepage and every new xkcd pops up seemingly instantly after being uploaded... can't remember the last time I laughed at an xkcd comic), Cyanide & Happiness, the list goes on. And yes, I'm fully aware I've just disregarded some of the biggest webcomics online. I did it just for you.
Today I found World Wasn't Meant which, if it continues in the same vein it's holding at the moment, may keep its place on my Bookmarks Toolbar. Because it's not your conventionally made comic (i.e. drawn) it instantly feels different, much like Tom Goes To The Mayor feels different when you see your first episode. Or asofterworld.com feels different when you first click on SevenSeize's sig. In all these cases, the utilisation of photography offers a unique feel to the media, which greatly succeeded in drawing me in to the various worlds. But while ASW implements what I find to be at times an overly dark, cynical humour, WWM is a lot more lighthearted and fun. Reading it feels like being in a room with the bunch of jokers you used to hang with in high school.
Here's hoping it doesn't lose its touch.
I can't believe I haven't put this up here already.
Presenting: Trent from Punchy.
EDIT: THE SAGA CONTINUES
Trent From Punchy 1.5: When It's Not A Good Time...
Trent From Punchy 2
Trent's got my vote for Australian of the Year.
milesthegreater: oh shit i just typed hat sentence out with my eyes closed
milesthegreater: that one to
ngfigmentum: NO WAY
ngfigmentum: you're a ucking hard cunt
milesthegreater: i dont even know what you just typed cause they ARE STILL CLOSED
ngfigmentum: that was my attempt
ngfigmentum: I missed the f
ngfigmentum: because my eyes were closed
milesthegreater: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING
milesthegreater: I DONT KNOW
ngfigmentum: DAMMIT MAN
ngfigmentum: OPEN YOUR EYES
ngfigmentum: THERE'S A FIRE
milesthegreater: I HOPE
milesthegreater: YOUR TELLING ME YOUR PIN NUMBER
milesthegreater: AND WHAT YOUR CARD NUMBER IS
This story wishes it was as good as yurgenburgens.
Mikey was a simple boy. One of basic pleasures and straightforward acts. You wouldn't call him an upstanding citizen but nor would you call him an immoral mongrel. Despite this, few people knew how to take him and he often found himself drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.
On this particular Sunday of cold winter, as he was sitting on the fence of the park, placing the finishing touches on a dinosaur (which he'd painstakingly made 3D as it had been raining that day and the dirt was manageable), a most peculiar pelican flew overhead. Its powerful frame momentarily cast a broad shadow over Mikey's ferocious but inanimate beast. Distracted, Mikey gazed upward and watched as the pelican descended from the skies and landed right in front of him.
"Please don't hurt me. I can't be held responsible for the acts of my brachiosaur were I to befall an ill fate." Mikey managed to splutter as he cowered before the majestic pelican.
The pelican stood there for a few moments, unsure how to take this odd boy who spent his time playing in the dirt. After looking at the dirt, then Mikey, then the dirt again, then back to Mikey, then the dirt, then finally Mikey again, the pelican confidently stated "That's a cat son."
Mikey swore, which was unusual for a boy of his nature. The pelican felt a little bad about crushing the boy's fun like that, but when you spend a large portion of your time in the air you begin to develop a certain no-nonsense kind of attitude that really sets you apart from the rest.
"Don't be afraid my child. I am but an affable air rider and I mean you no misfortune. But I am here with a purpose. Please, mount my back, as there are places I must take you and time is not on our side."
Mikey looked down at the courteous bird, a little confused. The pelican was barely half his size, yet he believed he was capable of carrying a young teenage human?
"Are you sure?" Mikey questioned. "We seem a little... out of proportion for that kind of thing."
"Have you already turned your back on imagination? Come, we are needed." The pelican opened its wings, indicating where Mikey should place himself.
Very unsure about the whole situation, Mikey slowly approached the pelican and put himself into position. He figured he wasn't doing much today anyway so he wasn't going to miss much. Except maybe dinner if he didn't get back on time, but he'd been made to miss dinner before when he was very, very rude to his mother, so he knew he could handle it.
From nowhere, excitement began to course through Mikey's veins with the speed and strength of ten thousand jaguars. He looked down at his arms and could see his veins pulsing. It actually kind of hurt. Losing himself in the moment, he violently brought himself onto the pelican. Not left with enough time to let out a squawk, the pelican was flattened dead under Mikey's weight.
Mikey was lying on the ground, a pool of blood slowly stretching from him. He'd ruined his clothes. Pelican gizzards don't come out in the wash. As he gazed into the skies, he began to laugh. People walking by were highly disturbed, but they'd never known how to take Mikey so they kept walking and just muttered to themselves about how strange that young man was. Mikey wasn't seen for the rest of the day.
Every Sunday after that, you could find Mikey sitting on the fence of the park, drawing pictures in the dirt. He didn't draw dinosaurs anymore. Or cats. Or dinosaur cats. He drew a magnificent pelican flying through the clouds, a simple boy on its back.
A natural progression into further obscurity."