Friday... again

Yay, it's Friday! Dance and cavort!

In other news: You are one day closer to death today.

As you were.

Swissjames located

He thought he could run. He thought he could hide. He probably thought lots of things I didn't think of.

He thought he had escaped.

He thought wrong...

Think of yourself as a boulder...

On bureaucratic language...

...Use nouns rather than verbs. Avoid action verbs. They convey movement, and movement is antithetical to the bureaucratic mind. Think of yourself as a boulder standing in the way of your reader’s goal, not as a swinging door through which any dolt can pass.

Brilliant!

Full article here.

Suicidal Cyclist

Pootling down the road the other evening returning from uni at about 7:30, I turned off the main road near my house onto a side street. This is a narrow little thing with people parked in inconvenient places intermittently down the road; it turns the street into a slalom course...

Annnnyway: I was approaching a roundabout (read: painted lump in the road with a sign sticking out of it) had just looked for oncoming traffic on the right and was about to accelerate through the roundabout when one of those unexpected things happened.

Some complete fucking loony on a pushbike (with no helmet or light) came flying down the hill on the left and cut through the wrong side of the roundabout onto my side of the road. I braked then released, swerved to my right then braked again. The fuckwit cyclist had a big wobble and nearly plowed into the front of my car (he missed by about a foot)then continued up the road with me shaking my head in disbelief shouting after him, 'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

I don't think he knew.

The lucky fucker. Things could've ended very badly for him if he had encountered someone with slower reflexes. If I hadn't have swerved, he would have gone straight into my windscreen.

Don’t get complacent: drive like everyone else on the road is a complete tool.

Wrong but good...

I was surfing the internet and found this.

I nearly had contortions.

The car lover side of me says, 'Man are you fucking mad?!!'

Part of me thinks it is really cool though.

Tightarse.

But this is just obscene!

Sunset on an alien planet

Ever get a fish bone stuck in your throat?

I get five or so hits a week from people freaking out (I imagine) with a fish bone stuck in their throat.

All due to this post.

And I'll probably get a bunch more after this one. So if you're reading this looking for a solution, I have this to say:

Bad news guys: you're fucked.

Another community service announcement brought to you by WNTDIA.

Pirate photos

When good bears go bad

Image borrowed from Jez Sez.

It Lives!

'Seanism' #1

I met a couple of Irish guys up at Airlie Beach.

Two very funny bastards.

Try this in an Irish accent:

'Noooo, I don't wash my clothes... I just seem to lose them as I go along--then buy new ones.'

Santa won’t be dressed in red this year

Santa won’t be dressed in red this year
So take all those that you hold dear
And keep them close, keep them near
‘Cause Santa’s turned it up a notch, I fear.

Santa’s got the shits with all mankind
Shooting each other all the fuckin’ time
So if you’ve done bad shit, you’re gonna find
This Christmas you’re gonna pay for your crime.

He spent his year in Japan, in situ
Mastering the arts of Ninjitsu
He’s got a black belt that wouldn’t fit you
Don’t fuck with Santa or he’ll fuckin’ hit you.

Santa’s back and he’s dressed in black
With throwing knives and ninja stars in his sack
He’s pissed off and he’s gonna crack
He’s gonna give you what you lack

You’d better not shout, you’d better not rat
On Santa or he’ll garrotte your cat
You’d better not point or say he’s fat
Santa will fuck you up and that is that.

Santa wants beer and cookies, not fuckin' milk
And it better be heavy, not mid-strength pilk
And Santa doesn’t like a prying eye
So stay in bed or you’ll fuckin’ die!

So this Christmas try not to be a prick
And hoard your presents like a selfish dick
Help the needy, help the sick
Santa tried the carrot, now here’s the stick.

If you’re an asshole, Santa will beat you down
If you’re a bigot, he’ll go to town
He’ll fuck you up without a frown
He’ll put you in a hospital gown.

I tell you this not to fear or thrill you
So listen hard, while you still do
Have legs to carry you and hope to cling to
If you’ve been bad this year, Santa’s going to fuckin’ kill you!

Alive

It’s 8:00 in the morning and the wind is whistling past my apartment with an Antarctic fury. It’s cold, but it makes you feel alive.

There’s a smell in the air--a smell of ice and gum trees--the smell of bright light and blue sky stretching up into infinity; the smell of the noise a cat makes when it hunts.

Makes you feel alive.

Or maybe I’m just cold: Picture this: Mawson and his fellow explorers huddled in a tent while the wind howls outside, piling up snowdrifts as high as the walls. They’ve just eaten their last husky; Mawson turns to his hypothermic friend and says through cracked blue lips from behind an ice-encrusted beard:

Fuck yeah! Makes you feel alive!

After the winter

The surly bird gets the worm

Image stolen without permission from Canadian Mark.