My ankle hurts.
This afternoon I watched cricket. Then I worked. Now I'm watching more cricket. I also got 6 more stars.
I'm wasting my holidays, and it's good fun. It feels like summer.
I'm pretty pissed off at work. On Tuesday during my day shift I took a few minutes out to fix up the few remaining problems with the tinned cat food planogram. It became perfect, flawless. I was so stoked with it and it was going to solve so many of the capping problems down there.
Then, on Wednesday, the person who's arse I'm covering who keeps making the bad planograms ordered an entire replanogram of the cat food section.
Now normally they replanogram sections when they're adding new lines or taking old ones out. But they didn't do either of those. They just completely re-arranged the cans and changed the amount of facings each line had for NO REASON. They made the most ludacris decions I couldn't even have come up with myself even if I was Forrest Gump on dope. The amount of capping is going to fucking triple now. I was so pissed off. Whoever did it doesn't deserve to live after that effort. I'm going to planogram them a new arsehole. Fucking angry.

If you like Bradism, you'll probably enjoy my stories. It's my dream to be a famous author, and you can help support me by previewing one of my books from Amazon below, and purchasing it if you like it.

If you met yourself from the future, what would you ask your future self?
What if they wont tell you anything?

If you work at Woolworths for Five Years you get a badge that says ”Five Years”. I don't see how that's that appealing seeing as you can just by birthday cards for a similar end still it's something to think about. Regan got one on Wednesday and I'm now going to talk about him in my journal. He's worn it every night since. He knocked a jar off the shelf while facing up and then caught it before it hit the ground. That's five years of experience right there.
After we all got out and I said Bon Voyage to Nick.
For some reason the flat top I was spotting at the start of the night had an apron on it. I wore it like a cape the majority of the night and said I was captain Woolworths.
Jack worked down my aisle and we ate a packet of Wagon Wheels biscuits.
I used my packing knife as my blade of fulfillingment and go green shopping bag as my shield of injustice.
See it's a shield of injustice because it shield me from injustice. It's like a double negative.

No Update: At Craigs.

Not getting enough emails? Want to receive updates and publishing news in your inbox? Sign up to the bradism mailing list. You'll also receive an ebook, free!

Yesterday: Craigs tooth broke at basketball. In half. So he got it capped and we went to his house to drink to its memory. I got drunk. At one stage I had just finished paying out Cowan as I changed seats during Warlords and Scumbags and I sat down on Craigs chair and it imploded. Before it even hit the ground I said ”Craig this chair's almost as weak as your girly teeth.” I don't feel so bad about paying people out when I'm drunk because I'm usually either saying dumb things or spilling stuff on my jumper when I do it so I doubt that anyone takes it too seriously.
That afternoon I bought a whole carton of Crownies for $38. That was cool. I lined them all up on my shelf in some sort of display. Not because I'm especially proud of the fact that I almost own all of a carton of a moderately priced beer but just because it looks shiny and cool.
Then today I put the windscreen wipers blades on my car. Later, I drove, it rained, and I wiped. It was good.

Oh :(
(Wednesday 7th July, 5:09am)

Don't bitch about it not being installed until the weekend, at least you have an airconditioner and you'll get to use it soon. :/

There are starving kids in etheopia who would love to eat that air conditioner.
Also you know how when your foot is dangling in the air for a while and then you put it down quickly all of a sudden it really hurts? WHAT THE FUCK IS IT WITH THAT?
I get so angry.

No Update: At Craig's burning my fingers:
”I'm getting $1600 dollars for my tax return. Do you think it would be wrong for me to spend it all on lego?”

No Update: At Mark's LAN:
no additional lines of material.

I should have mentioned that it was going to probably be a busy weekend, but I didn't know what was going to be going on, and for how long, until during it.
Anyway, after going to Hahndorf on Friday and then working that night I went to Craig's house where he was having a bonfire and bullshitted with the guys. ”The Guys”, I don't know if that needs to be capitilised or if you're allowed to be subtlely generic.
There we made plans for Saturday night, during which a few of us went to Jarrad's, I drank the majority of a bottle of Jack (as well as 3 tia maria Tim Tam's) and then wrote the above mentioned drunken tale. Jarrad told me previously that he wanted me to write him a story and, yes, it is supposed to be an extended, barstardised version of a simple joke. At around 2:30am I stumbled out of the living room and went straight to his computer, couldn't find word quickly so ran notepad and began typing. About halfway through I had to urinate, so I saved it as ”gotta pee.txt”, shimmied to the bathroom, got back and couldn't remember writing half of what I was re-reading. Nevertheless, it's quite amusing, especially for me, because I don't know where half of the stuff I wrote came from (the other half I recognise as half-ideas and recycled ones that I already had upstairs, but my brain's like a hypercube.)
Got back from Jarrad's and then had only 4 hours sleep before waking up to watch the Bulldogs get mauled by the lions, which was predictable and unpleasant. Then I left to go to Mark's LAN and overshot his house and got lost in the maze of sidestreets in his suburb. It was like a spiderweb. I can't even find where I was again in the street directory, that's how much of a maze it is. Not to mention the fact that it's split up into the corner of four fucking maps. I don't think I want to talk about that anymore.
Then on Monday I finally got to sleep around 5:30am and slept all day until Happy woke me up when he came to my house at 5pm wanting a lift to Goolwa.
From there I went to work, begrudgingly, came home, watched King of the Hill and then went to sleep again.
King of the Hill was about Christian Punk Bands, said Hank:
”Can't you see what you're doing? You're not making Christianity better you're making rock and roll worse.”
Hilarious and true. Well played.

Slept most of this day away again. Let Erin beat me at Mario Kart, which was painful and boring. Steve's girlfriend came around last night with Steve for dinner. Steve and I had the following conversation about my Khaki Pants:
Steve: Hey, khaki pants, nice.
Brad: Yes.
Steve: Did you buy them yourself?
Brad: I did. And I feel comfortable wearing them, not physically comfortable, but socially comfortable.
Steve: That's great, you're getting some style, but be careful.
Brad: Yeah, Khaki pants are a big step up from jeans. By wearing them you're saying 'Hi, I'm wearing Khaki pants and I know about it. I'm not even in the army.' That's a big step up for me, seeing all I used to wear was jeans. When you wear jeans you're saying 'Hi, I didn't come here naked.'
Steve: This is my girlfriend, isn't she hot and girly?
Brad: Well done.

I bet I'm sick. I woke up this evening and my pee was orange.
I also figured out what makes men and women different:
There are lots of different reasons and observations about what separates men and women, but last night I think I discovered a very fundamental difference:

What is a belt buckle for?
Her: Show
He: Buckling

Fashion versus practicality. Where's my Nobel prize?
I'm going to go to bed now, at 3am, so I can maybe not oversleep, which might be making me tired and pee orange.

This morning I had a dream and got up. But more about the dream. It was an interesting dream, and it involved being shrunk and then put into an exactly to scale room which was also the room you were shrunk in and you couldn't really tell exactly how tiny or huge you were because everything was still to scale and also for some reason the room was inside a car boot. That's unimportant, later in the story, possibly after returning to normal size/remaining in a to-scale model of my house I had my arms and legs cut off, and became a torso. This was quite sensational, particularly because I was at one point walking into the kitchen to grab something and I remembered I had no arms and legs and then I fell onto the floor in a heap and was kinda mopey about it.
Went to the dentist for the first time since High School. My teeth are still perfect, bitches.
Was filling up with petrol today at Woolworths Plus, and the dude who served me was AN EMO! Yes! An Australian Emo! I thought Craig was the only one.

Today Brad tries to live out his life like a sitcom, with hilarious and unexpected results.

Going to Goolwa for a few days as of this entry until Wednesday. Bought $40 worth of snacks and $60 worth of booze for it, as well as taping 3 hours of Fashion TV. On the way home from the shops the ”Brake” light on my dashboard started flashing, but ignoring it seems to have worked and I'll be driving to Goolwa and back with the goals of ”not dying” and ”avoiding trucks” as well as playing loud electronic music next to Angus' brain.
I'll also be driving without an indicator stalk, because they apparently cost fifty fucking dollars.

No Update: At Goolwa

No Update: At Goolwa

No Update: At Goolwa

No Update: I, Uh... At Goolwa

Well, Goolwa was an interesting and enjoyable time, more on that later. I'm back now, my throat hurts like fuckery and it's kind of been a sad week. You see, Dr. Russell says that Timmy has internal bleeding and there's nothing they can do. He looks so weak and he's going to die. It's omigod so sad. Also I broke up with Lori. Poor Timmy :(/
”I'm so white, during the riots I went out and bought a television.”
Ah, king of the hill. Goolwa write up later.

I got pulled over by cops today, it was exciting.
After work I went to drop the last of Lori's stuff off at her house. I wanted to leave a letter for her along the lines of ”I'm sorry, don't be sad, drink less booze, we can still be friends.” Unfortunately I didn't finish writing it before I left for work so I took the pad and pen with me and on Marion road I parked in the middle of the empty and well lit BBQ's Galore car park and wrote the rest of the letter. Satisfied that it was done, I started my car and left, pulling onto Marion road just as a cop car drove by the other way. They obviously saw me leaving the empty car park (it was around 12:30am now) and I saw them indicate to pull a Uturn so I drive nice and slow in the left lane and then through my fogged up rear-windscreen I see red and blue flashing lights. So, I pull over, and in true cliche form I've got a tail light out. They tell me there's a lot of break ins in this area and ask me why I was in the car park. I tell them I was writing a letter, and I'm not a terrorist. They believe me after they look up my name on their chunky-as palm top, take my license, caution me for the tail light and off I go. Thank God they didn't see my broken indicator stalk dangling next to the steering wheel. After I dropped Lori's stuff off, I was driving back and then right near BBQs Galore I'm stopped at some lights and I see the cop car again stopped on the other side of the lights. How amusing. And Exciting.
Also, the deaf girl says ”Whoops” too, when she makes a mistake she says ”whoops”! So WHY DOES SHE SAY OOPS WHEN SHE SEES ME? Goddamn Deaf Girls. I'm going to watch todays tape of Passions while I fall asleep now.

No Update: Too sick to write.
That's right, too sick to write stuff with a keyboard. Not lazy.

Oh Lord, my ear. It's blocked with pain, and I've eaten 50 lozenges since thursday. All I've done today is wake up and sit around until the cricket started. That was after last night when I spent the night falling asleep watching the cricket. I woke up at 3:30am with a lozenge half dissolved in my mouth. I finished that and cleaned my teeth and then slept. Being sick sucks. I did write a cooking with Brad article though. It was average.

I had uni today and sat behind a girl with a hot neck and amos is a fucking jazz loving clown but more on that later. There's more pressing issues.

<img src=”images/timmy/big-timmy04.jpg”>
”It's not the size of the dreamer, it's the size of the dream.”

I've been up since 8:44am, but I can't go to bed. Today I woke up and Timmy was alive. Now that he's gone, once I fall alseep I don't know how I'll ever be able to get out of bed again. There's not enough frowny-face emoticons in the world to express the sadness and pain I'm feeling right now.

Holy shit it's August!