The Great Australian Journal Entry

April, with it's advent of the end of daylight savings and the return to rotation of warm and comfortable tracky-dacks, also brought to me a Sunday afternoon swimming with possibilities. I was supposed to spend some of that time on writing a story that, like a lot of my stories, I started writing a very long time ago and never finished.

Predictably, my attempts to write the story failed. Instead, the time I allocated was spent trying to fix Bradism stuff and inevitably spent reminiscing about past life events whilst reading my journal instead of fixing it. Alas, the great Australian Short Story was not going to be finished on this great Australian afternoon. In fact, it seemed more and more obvious as the day went on that I had nothing to write and past journal entries seemed to indicate that quitting my job at Woolworths has had a detrimental affect on my ability to post great anecdotal entries. So here's a great Australian Journal Entry about the Great Australian Nickname.

The Great Australian Nickname is great because of its simplicity. Like a drunken Brad, its humour is amplified by its repetitive irony. It's something I've come to appreciate. The fact that it's funny to call a red-headed guy "Bluey" is beautiful. The fact that every single red-headed bloke in Australia is called Bluey is just so mind-blowingly simple that it's majestic and makes me love my country at girly-feeling levels of emotion.

There was a Great Australian race-horse, called Pharlap who's great bursts of speed won him many races. At Woolworths, there was a nightfiller nicknamed Pharlap... He got fired...

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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.

To the moron who tried to steal my VK Commodore

You idiotic bastard! How dare you even try to steal my car? What is wrong with you? Did your parents not love you enough as a child? Were you seriously that badly neglected that you didn't learn the difference between right and wrong? How hard can this be? Stealing a VK Commodore – wrong; stealing a half-decent car with vents that actually idles properly – right. How do you walk into a car park and spot a VK with a snapped of indicator stalk dangling near the ignition – the rich smell of exhaust still parked directly behind it – and say "that’s the car for me!"

Are you aware that you don't need to shove a screwdriver through my lock to break into the car? You only need to bend a coat-hanger into an l-shape and pry apart the window seal to pop-open the door better than the actual key does? Not to mention the fact that you couldn't even start the car. Considering the VK Commodore is one of the most commonly stolen cars in Australia, well, I just hope you’re not planning on making a career out of this. I think the $100 I have to spend to get the lock replaced will be worth the laugh I had as I drove home just marvelling at how far society has plummeted to even produce delinquents of such a nature that the most basic of car thefts couldn’t be completed successfully. You didn’t even rummage through my CDs and I had 'Hello Nasty' in its case just sitting next to the driver's seat.

The funniest thing is that my insurance is due in 10 days that will put me $400 out of pocket as well as devalue my car another couple as another year passes since manufacture. If you weren't so incompetent, that $400 could have gone towards paying my excess and I would've been almost two grand towards my new car without evening having to wash it and try and sell it. I could have handled the loss of some Subway stamps and Josh's jumper for that, I really could of (sorry Josh). It would have been the best insurance scam ever – the completely legal non-scam. Do you think I should drive it back there tomorrow and leave it unlocked in case he or she wants to have another try? I'm seriously considering it. Good work you fucking moron.

The best way to be Regular

Men's Health, the bible of helpful advice for dudes, recommended that I try the McDonalds Deli Choice Turkey and Cranberry Roll for lunch, as it is high in protein and carbs post work out without being loaded with too much cholesterol.

Given my lunch time situation, Men's Health had yet again delivered useful advice where appropriate, as well as the usual monthly diatribe about eating x to prevent y and that masturbation is healthy. So on Monday I went and ate one.

It was really nice, actually. The roll was toasted lovingly and the cranberry spread draped off the turkey like a stylish evening gown. So when I needed a quick lunch today which would leave me with time left to find a new mug, I decided I would get the same again.

The best thing about McDonalds is that if you're afraid of being a regular, you can just go to any one of the six McDonalds within walking distance from your office. Except I won't be going to the Myer Food Court one again because today's Deli Choice Turkey Roll was horrible. It was also oily and I don't understand how that's possible because no oil is used to cook it although the nerd that gave it to me was very fat...

I hate the Myer Food Court and also its lack of decent surrounding coffee mug stores.

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Dear Lunch Diary...

Subway doesn't seem so good when you have to pay for it.

I am the Paper Bandit

Peter Combe made for great in car entertainment when my mum used to drive 'us kids' around back in the days. Now, approaching 4 days since my car was broken into and I returned to the comfort of Mum's car - I haven't heard any Peter Combe tapes - but his life lasting messages have stuck with me every day. Or at least... during lunch.

Newspaper, Mumma. Newspaper, Mumma. Every day.

No matter how cheaply I buy lunch, whether it be the $12 burger at the Iugo business lunch that I crash or the leftover roast chicken and salad rolls that I bring from home, you can always tack on a dollar to the cost. Reading the newspaper is fast becoming my daily release for 30 minutes each day.

However the best part of buying the newspaper is leaving it behind when I finish lunch and then stealthily watching to see who will pick it up and read it when I'm gone. So if you've found an Advertiser in any restaurant on Hindley Street this week - It was me!!! I am the newspaper bandit.

Although perhaps how good I am is in fact an indication of how bad the paper is. The rest of my Peter Combe jokes will be saved for future entries.

Does anyone have a stopwatch?

Because this week has gone so fast.

So... What's in the News Today?

I had lunch in the restaurant of a hotel today where there were countless papers so I didn't have to buy one! This totally made up for the fact that lunch cost way more than usual.

Like a stuttering comedian my journal is out of material. So here's what's in the news today.

8 Below.
The dramatic tale of a dog sled team. Based on the true story of "Snow Dogs".


John Howard to face AWB inquiry about links to Iraq. Possible plot for next season of Arrested Development?


It's a boy! Peach? Pear? What will Gwyneth Paltrow called Apple's new bro?

OK I stole that last one from the actual newspaper.

*shepherds crook drags u off stage*

I'm glad I'm not Jesus because otherwise I'd have missed a pretty cool weekend

I left work before 5pm on Thursday after spending part of the day eating hot cross buns.

On the way home I bought a carton of TEDs which, now that I think about it, was finished by the end of Saturday.

Initially my plan had been to spend the Monday and Friday doing work on the other website and using Saturday and Sunday for total relaxation. Surprisingly, this is pretty much what happened.

I was benefited by a stunning run of good code fixing on Friday which saw many bugs being fixed in a minimum of time. At the same time as this occurred my dream of organising an Easter Beer Hunt in someone's garden came to realisation.

On Saturday I did nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. It was awesome.

On Sunday the Bulldogs won, entertaining with both their skill and ability to lose key big men to injuries. Then there was some more nothing. Then my other dream of seeing Final Destination 3 came prematurely all night long in an all night long movie marathon that treated Australian release dates with disdain.

I've been up for less than 12 hours today, but surprisingly it seems the longest day of the weekend. I got even more work done, fixed up stuff with this site and now I still have 50 minutes to iron my shirt for tomorrow.

I even eased my need for a Ryan's Rant update by seeing Ryan when he was picking up some pizzas in Blackwood on Saturday night and getting it orally from him.

This long weekend was long. But it was only four days. This time last year I had an 18 day break and I have no idea what I did with them. Bradism archives indicate I didn't cook my 400 day old muffins, which are now almost twice that old and still sitting in my cupboard.

Do you think this layout could get me fired?

Today was awesome. For the most part, very boring. For the best part, this:

This is one of those things I'll journal because I'll want to remember this day for the rest of my life.

Oh My God

I was looking forward to my lunch today not only in the hope that some mundane happening might spur some life into my faltering creative journal but mainly because I assumed that every national paper would be running special souvenir editions of Jason Gillespie's Century.

Imagine my further surprise after getting back to lunch as I alt-tabbed on the edge of my seat between work and Cricinfo live scores as Dizzy went on to make 200 runs in an innings. I can only assume the government will be announcing the commemorative public holiday tonight or some time tomorrow. If not that Monday between the weekend and ANZAC day, then perhaps ANZAC day itself could be replaced. Is this really asking too much?

Sometimes a sense of satisfaction can last a whole weekend

I finished work on Friday and listened to lectures on the train. If that wasn't enough, after getting home I rode our new exercise bike and then spent a while in doing weights. I hadn't even had a beer in a week.

I distinctively remember thinking at one point "man am I motivated, I've almost finished a gym and I still have the whole weekend ahead of me."

I went on to sleep 21 of the next 36 hours. Of the hours spent awake, 3 of them were spent watching the Bulldogs game and shitting myself every quarter because the game was so intense that I shat myself and then needed many hours of sleep to get over the excitement.

Now I can't access my website and fix code errors and I can't study for my exam because the university website is horrible. So I'm just riding on that Friday night feeling and wearing Bulldogs boxers to hopefully carry me through the rest of the weekend.

McNorton Beats Foxtel

Today was the day that I finally outlasted the Foxtel Corporation, who are now installing digital television in my house for free and with no fixed term contract, all because I waited for 2 years after they deprecated their analogue service.

The system still works!

Anzac Day and how to celebrate it

Play Risk.
Go to a bottle shop and ask if they have any Turkish beer.

Day after Anzac Day and how to celebrate it

See Angus on the train.
Study for exam at work.
Watch Angus visit my site that night to see if I mentioned seeing him on the train that morning.


To be fair, the morning train trips each day are so early and blurry that I'm not entirely convinced that they happen.

Today's Work

Photos of the Month is Back:

This entry is to test my new "multiple-pages" display format as well as my "automatically email steve any updates" update feature.

Hi Steve I hope!