Been busy doing shit. You know how it is.
I'm moving to a new blog; those I know are welcome to email me for the new site's address.
Kimchithekid at Gmail dot com
I won't be holding back on the new site. No attempts at political correctness; no pacifying the moronic or inept.
Fuck them all.
I'll be back with a fucking sledge hammer.
I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs.
Things have been busy lately. In an effort to maintain vagary (blog version 2.0—now does not include personal information), I’ll say this: I have family visiting at the moment and work just gets busier. Lots of fun.
Those of you from outside Australia may not have heard of the Umbilical Brothers. This shouldn't offend anyone ....
I caught a light sneeze (thanks Tori) and got a pay rise, which is good. I actually had a sick day the other day—you know the kind where you are paid to not go to work? Phenomenal; I can't quite get my head around it.
Speaking of heads—internal dialogue; does anyone else get overwhelmed by this? I walk around the city and there is a constant stream of intercranial ranting:
Stop eating that pie you fat cunt! Nice haircut you emo pansy. Oh, for fuck's sake, don't just stop and talk in the middle of the footpath—move off to the side you tourist bastards. I wonder how long he takes to apply his make-up in the morning. Fuck, I hate Courtney Love. Oh, look, that chick is hot! Shit, so's she! Fuck off, I don't want your flyer—that's why my hands are in my pockets. No, buddy! Don't fucking try and proselytise at me, motherfucker. Don't these people have jobs? How the fuck does that kid afford a new Mercedes? Lucky, rich, daddy's little ... Oh, come on people, it's just a little red light—you can see there's nothing coming. Wow, that skirt must be drafty.
Went to another restaurant last night with some friends. It wasn't as posh as the place I went to the night before, and the servings were full size. It was of an entirely different type of restaurant, too--this one was Turkish. However, I spied on the menu, celeriac. To my knowledge, this shit didn't even exist last week. Someone just dug it up and threw it on a plate. I don't know why they bothered--it tastes like dirt.
My mission for today is to avoid celeriac. Funnily enough, after reading the Wikipedia article, I could really go a Bloody Mary right now.
Went to a flash restaurant last night. Uber flash. 600-dollar Versace plates, the wine list went well into the 1000s of dollars—as a result I had a beer. Initially, we thought that wine by the glass was quite reasonable, then we realised that what we were looking at was not a price but a page number. We said, no don't worry about entrees, just bring us the mains. They felt sorry for us and brought us some bread (which was fantastic).
Then the beef arrived.
Little medallions of tender goodness—the key word being 'little'. They floated lonely in a sea of white, with only (and I'm not making this up) a lone potato island (which was a slice of potato, not a whole one), two green beans, one bonsai carrot and one vegetable that I believe was called 'celeriac' to balance it aesthetically on its porcelain canvas. The whole thing was ‘drizzled in jus’, which I think makes the chef seem quite lazy—couldn’t he make the effort to try a little harder than ‘drizzle’?
It's so cold today, my eyeballs have frozen in their sockets and I have to turn my head to track the cursor across the screen. The sun rose at about 6:30, thought 'fuck it, I can't be bothered providing warmth today' and went back to bed. Half an hour later my alarm poked me in the ear and said, 'get up, it's tomorrow'. I opened my eyes--when they instantly froze--and lurched out of bed. Due to my poorly functioning frozen eyes, I completely missed the saber tooth snow kangaroo that was in the kitchen, and ended up walking straight into it. We battled to the death--well one of us did anyway--and I walked into the bathroom and chipped the ice away from the taps. I was assisted in this by my body's spasmodic shaking--my frozen fingers provided a firm grip on the chisel.
The shower was scalding hot, burning my head, but by the time it reached my feet it had frozen into little blades of ice, which buried themselves in my feet; my feet resembled little blue ice porcupines. I called the left one 'spiky'. I'm still thinking of a name for the right.
With this on my mind, I got dressed in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately, because my eyes were frozen, this took quite some time.
And then I wrote this post.
You see, this is just an example of my daily struggle to get ready for work. Shit like this happens all the time. Sometimes the saber tooth snow kangaroo wins and I can't make it to the computer until I have been resurrected.
Oi, all you motherfuckers out there, I have a community service announcement!
What I'm about to say will be hard for many of you to fathom; however, I assure you, it's all backed up by years of research.
I catch the bus to work because I work in a big, shiny building in the city. Driving would take longer and parking would cost $25 bucks a day. I’ve never been a big fan of busses—overseas, I’d always catch taxis—but I’m learning to deal with it. There are some things about busses, however, that make me grind my teeth.
Look at the good Christian girls come to Satan's rescue!
