Today, Albums of the Year

Tomorrow, code "article-fragment" objects that can be used to create articles as well as journal entries.

These were by far the best albums released this year and the order is impeccable. If you disagree then you have no taste, even if it's purely to move Nelly Furtado into the top 10.

50. Kasabian - Empire
49. The Zebras - Worry A Lot
48. The Mountain Goats - Get Lonely
47. Beck - The Information
46. The Flashbulb - Flexing Habitual
45. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
44. Cut Chemist - The Audiences Listening
43. The Long Blondes - Someone To Drive You Home
42. Nelly Furtado - Loose
41. Duels - The Bright Lights and What I Should Have Learned
40. The Upper Room - Other People's Problems
39. Tapes N Tapes - The Loon
38. TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
37. Bad Astronaut - Twelve Small Steps, One Giant Disappointment
36. Subtle - For Hero For Fool
35. Yo La Tengo - I'm Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass
34. Scissor Sisters - Ta-Dah
33. Plan B - Who Needs Actions When You Got Words
32. Junior Boys - So This Is Goodbye
31. Whitest Boy Alive - Dreams
30. Placebo - Meds
29. Gotye - Like Drawing Blood
28. Guillemots - Through the Windowpane
27. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
26. Aceyalone and RJD2 - Magnificent City
25. Cursive - Happy Hollow
24. Boy Kill Boy - Civilian
23. Snow Patrol - Eyes Open
22. K-Os - Atlantis
21. Augie March - Moo You Bloody Choir
20. Magenta Skycode - IIII
19. The Long Winters - Putting the Days to Bed
18. Cassius - 15 Again
17. I'm From Barcelona - Let Me Introduce My Friends
16. The Knife - Silent Shout
15. Howling Bells - Howling Bells
14. Lady Sovereign - Public Warning
13. Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not
12. Larrikin Love - The Freedom Spark
11. The Lovely Feathers - Hind Hind Legs
10. The Paper Chase - Now You Are One Of Us
9. Forward Russia - Give Me A Wall
8. Ratatat - Classics
7. The Red Paintings - Destroy the Robots
6. Sunset Rubdown - Shut Up I Am Dreaming
5. The Sunshine Underground - Raise the Alarm
4. Phoenix - It's Never Been like That
3. Girl Talk - Night Ripper
2. Justin Timberlake - FutureSex / LoveSounds
1. The Format - Dog Problems

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.

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.

The Definition of Air Conditioning in a VK Commodore is

Buying an ice coffee from a service station and sticking it between your legs on the drive home.

Most of what was wrong with 2006 is over

I just played basketball and then ate a banana.

Also working on new site features which is why updates are slightly lacking.

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Coding Soldier

Added Entry/Article Insertion to the Log
Added Create Story interface re-using add entry code
Added better comment handling for article comments (re-used entry handling comments)
Added upload image link for entries
Added handler to upload to auto-insert image code into the requesting text-area
Added 'Music' as article category
Added Text links to 6 most recent articles at base of menu
Added ability to insert articles into journal entries and to create articles by combining existing articles
Fixed display.php to show rating information discriminative to article or music.

0.87 2007-01-14
Installed Bradism Spam Destroyer (version 0.0002) that encourages spammers to register.
Now store top/bottom icons as records in options and added js/php to handle changing this
Added (more) link for articles when inserted into journal entries.
Entries which are less than 1000 characters and contain an insert article call will have their comment script insert comments for that article instead of the entry. The entries comments will also be sourced from the article it links to.
Modified the image class to use getimage.php instead of the absolute path.
Non-Phocumentary stories now display an icon (if one exists) under the article title and date.

Let me know when you find any bugs.


Schützenfest is the annual South Australian German Association sponsored German Festival. It's a celebration of all things German: Gingerbread, funny dances and most primarily Beer und Wurst. Here is how it all went.

Sam, in all the excitement, prematurely buys a hot dog from the train station kiosk.

Sam, in all the excitement, prematurely buys a hot dog from the train station kiosk.

It was a festival in which Germany was apparently very serious, but also very lighthearted. I think that's best exemplified in this photo.

It was a festival in which Germany was apparently very serious, but also very lighthearted. I think that's best exemplified in this photo.

Continue Reading Schützenfaced...

Differential Diagnosis

I woke up feeling washed this morning. It was very sunny and I was exceedingly happy. This scenario bore some strangeness as I was also exceedingly sleep deprived and it was a Monday morning. however loud music and the lure of a mid-morning Smoothicino was enough to spring me to life.

I got to work around 9am for whatever it is I do and decided that today's theme was going to be differential diagnosis. We played Differential Diagnosis on Sunday night and it was good fun and an excellent outlet for my House worship.

Alone it was boring, but with the help of Bradism No. 1 commenter Zippo aka Pharmacist Cathy as well as and Wikipedia we took it in turns to present symptoms, answer questions, run tests and eventually come up with a diagnosis. Occasionaly I did some database stuff too.

The example of Differential Diagnosis on Wikipedia is wicked. It's so logical and it reminds me of how I make all my decisions.

And repeat...

There was an young man named Brad McInnegan
He had muscles under his skin again.
His back went out but they're growin' again
Poor old Brad McInnegan, begin again

Masculinity Highlights 2006

3. Convinced a girl that because she was a girl she could only bring salad to a BBQ.
2. Picked up a lesbian
1. Got badly injured lifting weights


It's been 10 days since I last had a drink. This is my first self-enforced sobriety period for the year. I haven't had a drink sice Schützenfest and I won't be drinking until Australia Day. I'm working on a theory where I should only drink on cultural holidays. Basically the end result should be me experiencing a lot more cultures.

It has been refreshing experience. Every part of my body feels alive and is screaming at me with whatever nerve impulses it has to share that were previously dulled. My stomach doesn't curdle every few mornings and my brain is sharp and agitated. It's been good to reaffirm I'm not an alcoholic and I don't require it to get by. In the days gone I've eaten BBQ without a beer; danced at Shenanigans completely sober; programmed without a glass of wine. Hell, I've even been in to work! It's great to know I don't have a problem.

I'm so sober. So very sober. My brain feels like it could handle multiple tasks at once and I'm peeing about four less times a day. This hypersensitivity to external stimuli is starting to get to me though. I've never felt so alert. When I was coming home from work tonight I got random breath tested and I blew -0.05 needs a breathalyser at checkout



Chow's bringing SexyBack

This is Chow. It's hard to believe that beneath this innocent exterior lies a back with more hair than his head.

This is Chow. It's hard to believe that beneath this innocent exterior lies a back with more hair than his head.

Chow prepares for his waxing with Elise. He claims the bruise on his left breast was from an errant nipple cripple.

Chow prepares for his waxing with Elise. He claims the bruise on his left breast was from an errant nipple cripple.

Continue Reading Wax On, Wax Off...

Hottest 100 Predictions

Tomorrow is Hottest 100 day. Here's what I voted for:

Arctic Monkeys - Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured
Cassius - Toop Toop
Cut Chemist - What's The Altitude
Gotye - The Only Way
Guillemots - Trains To Brazil
Knife, The - Silent Shout
Lady Sovereign - 9 To 5
Phoenix - Long Distance Call
Red Paintings - Pickles
Subtle - The Mercury Craze

And here's what I'm predicting for top 10:

10. Decent indie-rock song that, out of everything good that managed to voted for, should have come number 1
9. Shit Aussie hip-hop number that they play in pub-clubs
8. Terrible Australian rock band that is basically the reincarnation of a classic 1970's UK or US rock band
7. Catchy pop-punk rock tune with happy lyrics but almost no real musical integrity
6. Downward sliding artist that made the top 10 based on the strength of old material.
5. Some stupid gimmick song released as a B-side by Australian or US hip hop group/Norway or Scandinavian electronic group
4. Proof that more commercial fuelled teeny-boppers are listening to Triple J than ever before
3. A song that only made it this high because it was played, produced or written by Bernard fanning or he could have been in the studio on the day it was recorded or maybe he's just fucking one of their groupies
2. Way too popular Australian song that everyone will say should be number 1 even though it is essentially shit pop
1. I'm bringing Sexy Back... - AUSTRALIAN

Hunters & Collectors plus Cold Chisel at midnight on the dance floor – AUSTRALIAN
Southern Comfort and Diet Cokes... – UNAUSTRALIAN
...Half Price – AUSTRALIAN
Burke and Wills-esque walk from the pub to a place to sleep, getting lost on the way – AUSTRALIAN
Vegemite on toast - AUSTRALIAN
Drinking Anyway – AUSTRALIAN
Chicks loving dudes who pick up lizards - AUSTRALIAN
England winning the toss and batting - UNAUSTRALIAN
11 Year old boys who write to A Current Affair to complain about sexual content of music videos – UNAUSTRALIAN
Alcohol sponsored afternoon nap – AUSTRALIAN
Sexual Content in Music Videos – UNAUSTRALIAN
Farmers Union Iced Coffee – AUSTRALIAN
Falling asleep sunburnt, itchy from grass, marked from opening beers and still a little tipsy with a grouse smile - AUSTRALIAN

Retarded Mail Day

Today I got to open two pieces of mail. The first was from world reknown psychic 'Marie Callas' who promised to provide the winning lottery numbers for March for the sum of only AUD $30. It's normally $250 "but as you are my friend" it's a discount rate. This seems like a pretty good deal and I will forward this letter on to Ruth, who it was addressed to despite her moving out of this house in 1989.

The second letter I got had this gem printed on the envelope:

Ah, so that's the step I kept on missing..

Ah, so that's the step I kept on missing..

Big Day Out Review Rant 2007

It's my yearly tradition to go to the Big Day Out and then review it. And it seems to be the Big Day Out organisers tradition to provide a worse and worse line up every year. I hardly think I have obscure taste in modern music, yet only my least favourite band of the year made it to the bill! I didn't even want to go. It sold out, I didn't have a ticket, and I was happy. But then they "discovered" extra tickets and they sold them at a mystery location in the city on a day when I was supposed to be in my cubicle working. How could I resist that? I bought a ticket and I went and I knew it would be shit. I was in for a surprise... it was even more shit than I could have possibly imagined.

The Butterfly Effect
Drinking first thing in the morning is the damndest thing. My breakfast was Weet-Bix and a screwdriver. I played Wii for 2 hours instead of seeing these guys.

I hear they were shit.

I hear they were shit.


SA Police Service Event Commander Chief Inspector John McCaffrey commented, "Considering the size of the crowd, there were relatively few incidents. People who have been coming to this event for over eight years said that this has been one of the most well behaved crowds they’ve seen"

This is not much of a shock because I think most of the crowd was about 15 years old. They were shit.

Line up to get in. Line up for a wrist band. Line up to buy drink tokens for each to buy over priced drinks. Line up at the bar to buy overpriced drinks with stupid fucking drink tokens.

All of this was better than Scribe. He was shit.

All of this was better than Scribe. He was shit.

My Chemical Romance


Eskimo Joe

Chicks in revealing clothing played a set that was shit.

image 170 from

The Vines

John Butler Trio
Didn't even see them but they were shit.

Shouldn't of played 'Shoot the Runner' first because the rest of their set was shit.

The Killers
The only good part of this set was sitting down drinking and yelling 'You suck!' at them over the crowd noise of ~10,000 people.

They were shit.

They were shit.

Afra and Increditble Beatbox Band
This may have been wicked in all regards but I feel like I have to say they were shit.

This may have been wicked in all regards but I feel like I have to say they were shit.

Fucking awesome.

You Am I

The Crystal Method
They were alright. One of them DJ'd and the other one danced around like a tit. Played mostly remixes. I also think they played 'Song 2' by Blur for almost no reason. I know it was a DJ set but it wasn't mixed or anything they just played Song 2 and then that was the end. It would have been OK if they were Blur but they weren't. Didn't even play an encore. Highlight was when they played part of Knights of Cydonia over a bassline. Shit.

For dinner I paid for a salad. A fucking Salad. I really don't remember all that much about the period between the end of Muse and the eating of that salad because for starters I was really rocked out and also I had spent about on alcohol at that stage (which isn't really that much of a statement considering it was for a Jack and Coke). I just remember finding myself sitting on the grass eating a Greek salad complete with rocket, feta cheese and olives and realising I was eating a salad. It was a good salad. I believe it came from some magical gypsy salad tent because I couldn't find where I got it from afterwards.

Then before Crystal Method I went to get my annual BDO t-shirt purchase. I asked if they had a Crystal Method shirt but they only had it in small. But that was cool, I asked for a Muse shirt, but they only had that in medium and small as well. So I said "Fuck you T-shirt guy" and pointed at him while I said this. Then for 20 minutes I felt a bit aggrieved about being a big tall cunt. So in the boiler room I sought out small people enjoying their new Muse shirts and then stood directly in front of them so they couldn't see the stage until I spotted another person with a Muse shirt.

Oh and the whole day I wore ear plugs which I have to say was an excellent plan. I also remember thinking multiple times "every band here isn't worth damaging my hearing for". Except for Muse. They were awesome.

Why did I bother going? Because I can afford to! And it was better than work.

Before the Blackout

Before darkness swept over me I was kneeling in front of my computer clicking away at today's sudoku as I digested my dinner. Then there was an electronic gasp as every piece of hardware died and thousands of LEDs finally found silence. Seconds passed which seemed like hours because I had no clock to use to keep track of these things. Then there was a half-hearted wheeze, power ebbed back into all devices for a final fleeting glimpse before like a hand waving out of a departing car it was gone. Somewhere nearby two possum police officers were on their way to the tree of a widow to take off their little possum police hats and deliver the bad news.

Before the blackout I had never seriously sat down and wondered exactly how those ancient Chinese Sudoku masters could have played without the internet.

Before the blackout I had been thinking about the coming weekend of camping, fantasising about the simple, relaxing pleasures that would come from drinking beer and playing cards with my friends by gas light. Now I was struck with the stink of candles and losing at cheat to my mother while imagining the air conditioner that would cool me down.

Before the blackout the fridge was chilling my drink and the spa was heating my therapy. After the blackout I realised that stumbling through the darkness to migrate my drink into the murky, chlorinated waters had been panic fueled foolishness.

Before the blackout I was idealistic, but after the blackout I was jaded.

This One Has Been a Long Time Coming

I often catch myself thinking in narrative. Basically the same style most of my entries have been written over the years, that's how I actually think. This is probably the result of coming up with journal entries throughout daily life for the past half a decade. Except when I'm thinking it I don't get to filter out all the justifications and most of what I think about isn't always poignant.

The problem is that when I catch myself thinking in narrative, I often chide myself for doing so. I scold my mind: 'Who are you talking to!?'
And then my brain replies 'Well, I often catch myself thinking in narrative. Basically...'

Retrospective Camping Review Entry

When you're out camping how do you tell the difference between the male long drop and the female long drop?

The female long drop has a smaller long drop right next to it for tampons and sanitary napkins.

The Words Most Spake - Deep Creek 2007

Freak Toe
Brad Bird
Chin Hair

Stranger Than Fiction

Stranger Than Fiction is now the frontrunner for best movie I've seen this year. Its only current competition is 'A Night at the Museum' but still, it's an excellent movie full of post-modern tingly bits.

If you're one of those intellectual types that saw 'Will Ferrell' and 'Queen Latifah' on the bill, and was not quite intellectual enough to be stimulated by seeing 'Tony Hale' in the credits then I can advise you now, see this movie.

Best Valentines Day Ever

Today I beat the tough Sudoku without a single guess. All technique baby and all skill. After I won my screen was rewarded with floating JavaScript hearts.

I also managed to use my manly shopping skills to find a cute stuffed toy butterfly. It only took like 40 shops. Seriously women, could you like any more obscure animals?

I also spent 5 minutes deciding which Bakers Delight Twisted Delight I should get. I got the sweet chilli. It turned out to be an excellent call.

Playing With Myself

Important Body Milestones occurred today. I woke up and weighed myself as usual and discovered I had somehow put on 2.8kg since Wednesday morning! A Twisted Delight, pizza and midnight schnitzels had not been kind to me. A short morning ritual and I weighed myself again. Miraculously I was now 800g lighter. This set off a day of weighing adventure. Fortunately I didn't have much else going on.

I took a slash that reduced my weight by a whole kilogram. This was shortly after basketball when I'd weighed myself and then drank a litre of water while standing on the scales and then tossing the bottle away. It was educational, which is a good thing I suppose because even though it's summer Thursday is still my uni day and when I take days off work it's good to get something out of them.

Today I also burped and sneezed simultaneously for the first time and that was pretty exhilarating and snotty!

A Drink After Work

My ears pricked as a low pitched hum snuck from behind me and around to the front of my nipple. I let my place in Men's Health be lost as my right hand snapped at the air in front of my chest. I gazed at my palm, noticing both my index finger and thumb had the faintest outline of a black curve on them. A few inches downwards a mosquito lay crumpled and defeated on my mattress cover.

I revelled in my triumph momentarily before the peaceful looking corpse caused introspection in my heart and running from empathy I sat up off my bed and looked at the clock. It had just trickled past midnight and it was still 31 degrees. It was a Friday night, now at this stage it was officially confirmed that it was a lazy Friday night. I was nonplussed. I'd already achieved more than anyone could be required to do on a day with maximums near forty. I'd caught the train in the morning to my office in jeans, spent a large portion of my day working on or at least close to my computer and only took one coffee break – for a smoothycino – that I kept to less than 30 minutes. The engaging part came in the evening though, when I spent my second night of the week at the gym actively reminiscing some of the exercise I used to do. Sweating profusely I spent the following hours watching the sunset from inside the ocean before going home and making some scrambled eggs.

After recalling all of this it was still 31 degrees. My water bottle sat next to my bed, empty, like a ruin. My tongue danced across the roof of my mouth, spreading saliva across parts of my mouth sparsely like a South Australian hosing their garden during water restrictions. I was hot. I was thirsty. I was exhausted. It was Friday. I needed an ice cold beer.

On the way home from the gym I'd gone to BWS and taken advantage of their 20% off all slabs and cartons deal by picking up a carton of LöwenBräu for forty dollars. I'd stashed most of it in the fridge upon arriving home, but I'd distributed 3 bottles throughout the freezer to chill rapidly with intention of not forgetting they were there before going to bed.

I remembered.

I moved with pace to reach the fridge outside, opened the attached freezer and plucked the three bottles from their respective locations. I clutched them all to my naked chest, partly in love but mainly to determine which was the coldest. One was barely tolerable to hold near. I grasped it tightly and the other podium finishers migrated to join their brothers in the fridge.

I danced back inside to my kitchen. My new beer grasped tightly like a Christmas Present inside my hand. I landed it on the kitchen bench and rummaged hurriedly through the drawers to find the bottle opener. I brandished it and it was Christmas Morning as I slowly shed the ribbon off my treasure and levered off the cap.

I was not prepared for this much beer.

I knew something wasn't right when the cap's first jolt away from the neck of the bottle came with white sap spreading from the cracks like the beer was the branch of a tree. I continued on, hearing the sharp exhalation of pressure from the bottle as the cap fell away and into my hands. I gazed at it, noticing the oddity. Internally it was lined with a crisp layer of ice. In horror I looked down. It was happening in slow motion. My beer frothed out in arctic snakes, flowing from out the bottle and down the glassy sides. The foam came in waves, as if inside my beer a heart was slowly pumping the last beats it had.

After the initial shock I sprang to action, leaning forward and attaching my mouth to the erupting beer head and money-shotting all it had to offer. I fully anticipated my expecting mouth would calm the beer and despite some loss of volume I could soon be enjoying it. I was wrong, and the pressure grew until my mouth and throat could not handle this absurd form of leaning down beer bong and I had to abandon beer.

Violins played and there were tears in my eyes as I watched the thick, icy ale froth out my beer and onto the bench it sat on. It seemed like my whole day had been a preparation towards enjoying this first beer and now it was ironically ruined by preparing for too long. I cried as the flow slowly became a trickle and the beer lay silent. It was a tragedy and there was only one thing left I could think to do. Take a photo.

Shock passing, I clasped the beer and wailed. Upon gaining proximity I noticed that there was still a small amount of iced beer in the base of its container. I brought my eyes down level with the beer and then put it to my lips, trying to at least get that first taste; trying to at least have one good memory with beer. Drops slid down the neck and onto my tongue. It was delicious, euphoric as if my panicked, heightened senses had not forgotten my tastebuds.

Too soon the drops soon stopped though. Our kiss ended and as I pulled away I realised that the beer was now just a shell of what it once was. Like the end scene of Titanic I was Kate Winslet and my beer was Leonardo DiCaprio. I released my hand and left it to sink and face its icy death.

Today had begun hot but now I was cold. Today had begun so full of promise but now it lay empty. Today had begun with a smoothycino and now it was finishing with a smoothylöwenbräu.

And that is why you reapply

It is super hot right now. I tried to float a pool party idea but it sunk. All are welcome to bring a carton of beer and sit on the floor of my shower with me tomorrow while I let the cold water trickle onto me and listen to the cricket.

Nostalgic Correlations

If you were to Data Mine the last few years of my life you would find a few interesting patterns regarding my relationships.

In the past 30 months I have broken up with a girlfriend three times after spraining my ankle no more than 10 days before. What does this tell me? Or you? I have no friggin' idea.

This morning I had my first dentist appointment since 30 months ago. My dentist wore a pink shirt and said with a completly non-ironic lisp that I had the straightest teeth he'd ever seen. It was the gayest thing I'd heard for... 30 months. I'm lying. It was the gayest thing I'd heard since yesterday when the Scissor-Sister's "She's My Man" started playing when I was at the gym. All the sweaty, muscular men starting working harder and pumping faster. I totally wasn't into it though. Pilates is more about endurance.

Four times in the past two years I have decided the time has come to end a relationship with a girl after getting lost trying to take a shortcut on my way home from their house. One time it was the cab driver who got lost but I count it. What does this tell me? For one thing it does seem to indicate why the length of my relationships increases as the distance a girl lives from my house decreases. All these relationships were already teetering anyway and these break ups were justified and a long time coming. But when a girl isn't stimulating and you spend a whole evening with them unstimulated you just want to get out of there, get home as fast as possible and stimulate yourself.

I mean that mentally but I wrote it so dirty.

The shirt I wore tonight I've worn once in the last 29 months. Twice in the last 30. It's dirty. I also had my annual review today and I've fallen in love with my long hair.

I'm going to bed now. My ankle was getting better but now it's hurting more for some reason.

Site Stuff is Happening

But Photos of the Month are up all the same.

All of my teeth are Guns

I had my teeth professionally cleaned, plaque scraped and polished today. This followed on from my dentist appointment a week ago which lasted all of 10 minutes and resulted in me needing a "cleaning" appointment with the same predictability that a free Scientology personality test will reveal character imbalances. However I was happy to take a trip to my friendly dental hygienist seeing as I own the world's best set of natural teeth and every year I don't get them polished is a waste of my private health insurance's large dental coverage.

I shaved before my appointment. I also tend to put on cologne before I see my physio. It's not because I'm insecure or anything I just happen to have a realistic understanding of how big and smelly I am and how terrible my beard is.

It seemed to work because my dental hygienist was young and nice and we had as good a conversation as you can have when one person has hooks and a vacuum in their mouth. We talked about jobs and how hard it is to have a conversation when you have hooks and a vacuum in your mouth. It was meta.

After impressing her with my ability to talk while being brushed, my gun barrel straight teeth and my tongue's curious instinct to lick the mirror every time it was put in my mouth it seemed things were going well. So I organised with her a date. She said yes despite the challenges and spillages that the "rinse and spit into this vacuum cleaner" process involved. Next Thursday we're meeting up and I'm having a few molars resealed.

Now, I don't know much about making gum

I found an email I sent to Wrigleys in 2002 when they did random market survey mail drop. I got home from school one day and there was two new brands of gum to try. There was the new 'Sweet' extra as well as the "super strong x-cite mint gum". Obviously neither of these products are available today.

However they offered $50 for the best suggestions and comments about their products. My logic was if I wrote a freaking essay about their gum I would surely win the money just by gauge of effort. I was very poor back then and this seemed as good a way as any to fund my chronic Yowie habit of the time.


Firstly, cheers for the free sample, I also received a packet of chips that day so It was quite a haul. I trialled most of your two products and also got my family and mates to try some, we all had similar opions.
The X-Cite gums were indeed powerfully minty, although just one or two did not do much compared to a complete handfull. I think that writing the exact number of mints is a good idea however although i did not count out how many mints i received exactly no doubt there will be people out there that will count out the exact number of mints in their packet so hopefully your packaging machines will do a consistent job. The actual packaging looks good and is certainly different and looks high techish with the colour scheme helping this. However, my only complaint about the box is that the whole is just a tad too small and the mints often have a problem getting out. The other problem was that when i took the box out of my pocket, it slid open on occasions. The actual mints themselves did not lack any flavour or mintyness but the amount of mint to gum didn't seem right. There was too much mint coating the gum so that by the time you chewed your gum was filled with crunchy pieces of mints. This problem is fixed by eating more than one at a time because when you chew them in your mouth the gum from each mint joins together. There was one way I found, when eating the mints, to get an extremely powerful jolt of hot, mintyness is to press the recently chewed mint against the roof of your mouth with your tongue. Even with just one mint it's quite difficult to hold it there without feeling the heat of the mint. I believe this could be quite useful in marketing for you as it made eating the mints quite enjoyable.
The new 'sweet' extra, however was a dissapoint for me. Granted, it was 'sweet', and not overly so which meant that the taste was not lacking, if not a little plain. Unfortunately the flavour ran out so quickly, unlike your spearmint and other flavoured gums, and after only a few minutes of chewing it was flavourless and not at all sweet anymore. Every piece I tried ran out of flavour quickly and two of my friends also tried it and found it to run out of flavour quickly also. Now, I don't know much about making gum, but the long lasting flavour of extra is what makes me choose it, so when something doesn't taste as good as your other flavours and doesn't last as long either, I would be inclined not to purchase it. Your packaging of the gum is in the same taste as your normal packaging and the white does help acheive the look of sweetness. One thing I did think while I chewed the sweet gum is that it tasted similar to milk bottle lollies that you can buy. I think that if you could capture a taste similar to milk bottles and made it so that it would last like your other flavours, then that could be a really big seller (I would certainly buy a lot of it). Overall I thought that both products were average although innovative, but neither were great. The mints were close though, I think that perhaps making them a little bigger (adding more gum) could make a difference. I hope this information has helped you.

I use mints to freshen my breath without being left with used gum to get rid off. They are good for filling your mouth with minty freshness by just chewing them into powder quickly. You can also acheive a massive mint burst by eating many mints at once and you can play mouth games (the best way to describe it). By doing things like eating as many mints in one go as possible or eating mints then drinking orange juice straight away. Fun Fun. Perhaps you could make a page on your website called "Fun things to do with mints" (or perhaps something more professional) if you end up producing more mint products.

I think that if you build on your idea behind X-Cite and introduce an extremely minty gum with the power of a couple of X-Cites. Market them similar to War-Heads, red packaging. If you put instructions similar to what I wrote in Question 1 about pushing them against the roof of your mouth and really hype up the extreme 'hotness' of the product it may sell well, especially with a younger market.

Well... I wasn't going to post anything else today... Except maybe my story about how I curiously craved chocolate custard this afternoon; left work and bought 600ml of it from Woolworths; got back to work and drank it all at around 4pm. Then 2 hours later I broke my bench press record.

Any comments in the above about sharing gum with my friends or family is a blatant lie because I ate every single piece of those gums no matter how shitty they tasted.


Brad. I'm often amazed at how much food I can pack away during a day. My stomach is constantly begging for more and even the most mundane physical activity seems to spur the need for another meal. Obviously it takes a lot of fuel to motor around my giant, athletic body but every day I'm consuming 5,000 to 6,000 calories. Divide that number by 2200 and you've got the average amount of times I crap every day. I am a hulking machine.

In fact, the more I consider it the more obvious it becomes to me that my body is one of immense physiological prowess. I grow hair, nails and muscle quickly and strongly. My memory is sharp on details and my torso can take quite a beating. I have an exceptional tolerance to pain (for reference see 'Breaking my leg then watching TV for 3 hours' or 'Rupturing a spinal disc and then doing 40 more minutes of weight-lifting).

My giant feet keep me balanced, my giant nose smells out the first hint of trouble... I speedily urinate with alarming pressure and there are, of course, my gun teeth. The more I think about it the more it becomes clear that I am some sort of super-human hero sent to the Earth with some purpose I'm yet to stumble upon.

Now I know what you're thinking. "But Brad, what about your degenerated lumbar spinal discs, tight hamstrings, stunted multifidus, interlocking sacrum and stiff vertebrae? How can you be a super hero when you have to lie down for an hour after walking down a hill and then picking up a sock?"

You see, back in the 1980's my father was employed at IBM, a large North American IT company who in 1983 had a contract with the United States Defence Organisation. He was a lowly ranked technician on a project, probably, where the CIA was trying to breed a new strain of super-humans who could use their superior strength, quick wit, modesty and ability to use tired jokes to overcome the threat of Communism/Aliens/Whathaveyou. Unfortunately the project was compromised and it had to be abandoned, but that was not before a rouge scientist stealthily implanted my Dad with a batch of ultra-sperm and sent him home to my Mum with two tickets to a John Farnham concert and a bottle of Passion Pop. Nine and a half months later - a procrastinator since birth - I was born and immediately starting breast feeding (This is the first part of the story that has any backing - my Mum confirms that I was definitely milking her for between 5,000 and 6,000 calories a day).

But this was still the early 80's and the Cold War was in full swing. Soviet Operatives learned of my location and, under the guise of a Peter Combe concert I was implanted with a tiny time bomb like a talking teddy bear having its battery replaced. This bomb was set to detonate in 2006 - assumedly co-ordinated with the fall of Washington.

The end of Communism came instead, Russia became the capital of riding spinners and the attempted assasination of me and whichever other super babies were born were archived and forgotten about.

Then there was that fateful day in 2006. But the communist scientists had miscalculated and instead of destroying me the tiny bomb was not strong enough to rip through my sinewy tissue and No Fear t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Instead it just imploded part of my spine coincidently at the same time as I was putting down a pair of dumbbells without using my knees.

Now that I have discovered this secret about me I realise I have to find the others. I know they're out there, I can feel them now. Probably. I just have to learn how to activate my full potential. There is obviously some quest of self fulfilment I have to accomplish to reach enlightenment. Like the Matrix I think. I have to realise these boundaries don't really exist. How much of this do I think is real? Do you think that's bullshit you're reading now?

The Thursday Top Ten

I was recently talking to Chow about my site and how it could use some more regular features to draw in readers. The rest of the conversation, much to Chow's chagrin, was spent fine tuning the first idea whilst discussing Chow's ambition to land his first girlfriend in 2007.

I will now begin hopefully a long tradition of ripping off Letterman with my first, and admittedly highly contextual, Thursday Top Ten:

So did you hear that Chow is interested in dating now? I'm pleased for him, I really am, but I'm not looking forward to his eventual loss of innocence when after everything seems rosy at first things inevitably go wrong. Soon Chow can start to experience the trauma and drama of a long term relationship. In this week Thursday Top Ten we're looking at the "Ten Things Chow's Girlfriend is most likely to be overheard saying in an argument"

10. If you're going to keep twitching like that every night I want you to stop drinking so many Jaeger Bombs.

9. I don't care how many Tribulus Terrestris pills you took, I'm not in the mood

8. I told you to slow down around that corner..

7. I don't care if we can get another one cheaper on eBay

6. ...and call Advance Hair Studio!

5. Stop asking me to call you DJ chow while you tweak on my nipples

4. Admit it, You love that schnitzel more than you love me

3. Did you crush my Ming vase between your Pecs?

2. Why is there so much back hair in the drain?

1. I read your website Chow... I can't believe you rated me on quality, value and service and compared me to your other girlfriends!

The World Cup is going to Screw Me

It's 4:20am Thursday and I haven't showered since Tuesday.

Top 10 Ways to Handle Sleep Deprivation during the World Cup

It's been three days since the World Cup officially began, the best level of One Day International cricket ever played at the most inappropriate time ever. Games starting at Midnight-1am and finishing up just in time for breakfast. Even a die hard fan is going to need some special motivation and a few encouraging activities to last through each match. So I present this weeks Thursday Top 10 Ways to Handle Sleep Deprivation during the World Cup:

10. Prioritise everything planned for tomorrow to work out which things you can skip such as showering, shaving and eventually work.

9. Put Finishing Touches on Bronze Shaun Tait Idol. Or just give him a bit of a polish.

8. Whenever there's a change of balls, get a beer.

7. Study and perform weather rituals to ensure that you haven't stayed up until 5am to watch a no-result due to rain.

6. Teach your body to take 25 minute power naps during each innings break.

5. Register for Betfair and Place $10 bets to try and win the money you would have earned tomorrow.

4. Whenever a commentator utters a double entendre such as "probing the corridor of uncertainty", have a beer.

3. Invite Chilean Leftists around to watch the game.

2. Whenever there's a drinks break, have a coffee.

1. Place $10 bets to try and win back the money you lost yesterday trying to win money for today.

I am a Philospher

Identity is one of the most important words that I know. Identity is what makes me different from everyone else, and what makes you different from me. The way you perceive yourself and who you actually are, in actuality, are tautologous.

Basically, you are who you tell everyone you are. So far this year I've been - or at least introduced myself at parties as - the following:

A Nerd
A Jock
An Author
A Music Analyst
A Camper
An Australian
A Drunk
An IT Professional
An Information Associate
A Cripple
A Detective
A Brother
A Son
House M.D.
A guy in a green shirt
A Programmer
A Photographer
A Concert Goer
A Poet
A Citizen
A Part Time Student
A Full Time Student
Every position on the basketball court
A Patient
A Seller
A Consumer
A Lover
A Reviewer

But life isn't like the Village People and it's when each of these identities is stripped away from it's core concept and mashed with all the others like left over bits of soap that you get me. Brad. I am a giant, multi-coloured ball of soap.

Medical Facts

I sighed loudly as a urinated at high speed after drinking lots of water at the gym today.

Then I sighed again. Then a third time.

The maximum capacity of my bladder is over three times that of my lungs. I could drown three people.

Half a litre of chocolate custard before working out will also help you maintain energy levels and lift more weight.

Brad's World Cup Diary

To think Mum said staying up all night watching cricket wouldn't be productive. I lasted 23 hours of awakenedness and I managed to give my entire room a clean and tidy during the second innings as India plummeted out of the World Cup, disappointing millions.

I also got a lot of other stuff done earlier in the day, though I have been awake so long that I don't really remember the early parts clearly anymore.

I wonder if tonight's result will affect the delivery and cost of any of our best-shore components...

In Case Anyone was Curious

Yes, I have been doing journal entries lately. I've just taken to writing them in a notebook in the mornings. I don't particularly know what this means.

When Life Gives You Lemons

You would think that after over 4 years of university I would have learnt about not doing assignments all night before the day they are due. In reality the main thing the last 4 years have taught me is how to do Assignments at the last minute well. I feel I may have overcompensated: It's 4am and I only have a conclusion and proof reading to go. I think I'll try to beat a Sudoku.

I know that my entrepreneurship and SME lectures have taught me that successful entrepreneurs are ones that take calculated risks, but this is probably missing the point.

This morning I dropped my bottle of cologne after my shower and it shattered all over the bathroom floor. I said 'Fuck' really loudly and from that point onwards I was over losing $100 worth of manfume. I may not have a nice whiff for the next few weeks, but today things have stunk as good as ever.


It was mostly dried sweat he woke up in. The joints had kept overnight. Beneath the knees; behind the neck; the groin - that was still damp, but only slightly. The sun had never risen. He fumbled beneath the pillows, diving for the phone that he slept with. It was definitely still early. He searched for reason briefly before being interrupted.

'Goodbye' the voice ironically introduced itself.

'Goodbye' he half responded, half echoed. It wasn't a long echo and he returned to sleep.

'Wake up' screamed the synths and hollow bass. For the second time in the morning he fumbled for the phone. He quietened it. There was light now: skidding through curves in the curtains and - based on the dryness – evaporating the sweat. There was still a knot in his stomach. Through the early morning fogginess he could still sense an untoward presence. There was an expectation of him as if something in the universe was awaiting his next move.

He grabbed the curtain that ran alongside his mattress with one hand and violently jerked it towards him. The sunshine piled up over his blankets. It was beautiful sunlight. But with the window open the sense of something less simple observing him grew stronger. Using his mind he willed himself vertical and away from the sheets. He shut the door and left the room with a glance behind him.

Water sprayed down, washing the last of the dried sweat away onto white tiles and preparing a body for a day of achievements. He left feeling strong and refreshed, walking through the kitchen past the pile of plates stacked by the sink and back to his quarters where the feeling of being watched returned.

He stopped and stared out the window, observing every detail. There was no eye contact but he could feel it staring back. Charged, he set about upturning every end of the room, discarding every loose and unwanted item. Blasting away the cobwebs and dust. Absorbing the energy created by order. He began to feel stronger. Inversely he felt the stare weaken as it paralleled the sun, which began to drift back downwards for the day.

He lay on the carpet - coiled and taut – strengthening himself for any upcoming battles. He'd already planned his outstanding debts and bills, paying them so that anyone who followed him wouldn't have to. The phone calls had all been made. His legacy had been prepared. The window refracted the twilight as he turned into his room with sore but prepared muscles and checked his progress against the always staring presence. It was the chaos that inspired all this organisation. He tensed in the doorway – sensing the power of the watching presence dissipate into the orange sky. Detecting weakness he ripped his shirt off his chest and threw it on the ground, screaming with power and rage, summing up the confrontation of the day.

Meekly the To Do List stared back, badly hacked at the stage, few appendages left. Only 'Write Journal Entry' was left dangling below the white board marker title 'TODAY' written at the top of the window. These final words were created as those final words were wiped away.

Today's Journal Entry

I'm watching you

I'm watching you

Unlucky Saturday the 14th

'You feelin' lucky?' I friendly drawled, watching the young, gangly looking fellow in a cream shirt haul his chair in next to me.
'Not yet' he replied, meekly.
I stroked the pile of chips in front of me as the dealer spread cards across the felt. I was chasing perfect pairs, hoping for something I could split. The stack of chips I had on the table was big but the collection by my hands was bigger. The newcomer placed a single chip down before the dealer's hand swept across the surface and bets were closed.
He sat on 18, I sat on 20. The dealer went bust. I beamed as I dragged another handful of chips into my arms. I witnessed a wry smile, shackled by shyness, next to me as his one chip became two.

The next rounds forged through and as I collected more chips and sipped on my third Piña Colada for the evening. He quickly lost his fifty and like a flicker he was gone again. As my cards turned out another blackjack I heard his parting comments to his comrade who had watched the whole attempt in silence.
'It had to happen; I knew I would have bad luck today.'
I didn't smirk, just looked at my steadily growing winnings. I knew you make your own luck.

Eventually you tire of taking casino's money and I walked down the well lit streets of the CBD to meet friends and beer for a celebratory happy hour at the Falcon Claw. It wasn't the ritziest of establishments but the beers are cheap. It's my belief that the secret to winning big is to always act like you don't. As I waited for a fresh pint to recover from its flowing head I watched the doors of the gaming room swing open saloon style as cream shirt and his mate strolled out. He had a smile on his face still, though it was one of humoured acceptance rather than victory.
'Hurry up and finish that drink' he told his friend. 'This place isn't lucky either.'
I smiled, half in knowing of the self-fulfilling prophecy that comes attached to a statement like that, and half because I'd just caught the eye of a shy looking blonde girl who'd been watching me from the corner. As the night air swept in behind me she quickly averted her gaze. Then, slowly... she looked back.

Jaunty rock spilled from the open first story windows and onto the sidewalk as we walked along the streets towards the next bar. Strolling with me was a girl with blue hair, which was a first for me but I was attempting all the charm I could given the alcohol diminished resources I had left. Post passing the entrance to the contemporary jazz place I was startled by heavy slaps and turned around to monitor a cream shirt leap out from the entryway and bobble off at pace into the dark. It was all over in a few seconds but it was the most committed I'd seen him do anything all night.

At this stage I was curious as to why I kept crossing paths with him. Back upstairs a girl stood watching a band, bewildered.

It wasn't long later when I could be found sat waiting in the taxi rank, waiting for a ride to...
'Cassandra...?' I estimated.
Her brown eyes turned and looked up at me as my words ended a brief silence. I had to thank my slightly soberer self of the past who had most likely chosen this brunette not just on the strength of her looks but also because her name sounded like 'casino' which was becoming an easy to remember theme. Unaware of my lucky guess she smiled at me as she snuck closer to my shoulder, her white skin hinting at the moonlight above in contrast to my dark shirt.

Behind my other shoulder the sprinter and his friend were racing again, this time down the stairs behind the taxi queue that led to the railway station. The last train of the night was about to leave and although the night was still young it was obvious he had decided to cut his losses with a cheap ticket home. Finally a Statesman taxi rolled up to the curb and I stroked my wallet through my pants as we loaded into the backseat. Casino lived far away from here but I wouldn't hide from an expense. Whatever it cost I could always come back tomorrow night and win it back, of that I knew. The secret to winning big is to always act like you will.

I would Never Create a DJ Bradism website

I'd just create a 'DJ' subdomain for this website.

It would host this track.

And that's what ANZAC Day means to me. Not really, obviously.

The best Angus Wallpaper of the Month Ever

April 2007

image 252 from

[1600x1200] [1024x 768] [800 x 600]

Unfortunately no wide-screen this month but range off options should be satisfying.

Warning, what you get might be NWS.

When I woke up this morning I wanted one thing

I photo of me with a giant penis.

image 253 from

Other highlights of Sexpo were the very Australian amateur strip where the crowd voted a jockey as the winner of the men's heat and the ugliest girl possible from the women.

Also watching not one but two of my friends from Tandy independently talk about the batteries that came with a vibrator to the same girl.

Masculine Gratification

I woke up this morning and I shaved. This was against the norm for two reasons. I don't normally get much sleep during the week so I normally cash in on weekends, but I'd managed to have an early night on both Thursday and, relatively, on Friday as well.

The second reason is that I usually try and carry any facial hair I have through the weekend, shave on Sunday night and let the totally apathetic hair follicles on my face drift dreamily along for the first two days of the working week before I have to shave again on Wednesday. However I'm becoming more proactive again lately and I figured seeing as I was so motivated to get things done I could handle shaving today and then following that up with a shave on Monday morning, even if it meant I had to set my alarm the 4 minutes earlier that shaving required.

Following on from this inspiring tale of efficiency and self discipline the day continued in the same vein as I set about using my weekend for practical endeavours, namely digging out the basketball system from a garden bed, cleaning it and restoring it to its former glory.

This quest for improvement eventually required me to visit the shops for a few items, so I set off to enter the shrine of weekend manliness: the hardware store. There I purchased chains and talked about tools with other men in terms I could understand (length) before also purchasing an ice-coffee from a fridge at the front counter (excellent market segment analysis and cross-product promotion there) and heading back to my driveway for more hard yakka, which I felt justified the grams and grams of sugar in a Farmers Union Iced Coffee. Eventually it was done and it was time to clean the dirt from my hair and get ready to hit the town. As I stepped into the bathroom I noticed, to my surprise, the man in the mirror had already started sprouting stubble. Also there was a spider in my nose. Being a man is fun.


'And the key to having a lot of email each morning is to sign up to all the professional looking mailing lists you can find.'
He nodded enthusiastically, watching me as I scrolled down line after line of my inbox.
'They don't even have to be IT related,' I continued. 'See this one? It's some law blog shit. Whacky cases, good for a laugh but when you're reading it the screen just looks dull and technical.'
'What is that one called?' my little protege asked.
'I'll forward it to you.' I said. There were a few clicks. 'The next thing we'll learn is coffee. Rule number one of coffee breaks: You never, never go out to get your coffee until you've checked all your emails!'
'In case there's a bug or something that needs urgent attention right?'
'No. God, no!' I laughed. 'It's because while you're out getting coffee there's a chance you'll come back to more emails.'

The sun beat down on my neck and forearms exposed beyond the rolled up sleeves of my business casual shirt. He matched my pace, falling short or long of my stride occasionally as he skipped to avoid stepping on cracks and lines in the footpath.
'Wait... why did we...' he started to conceive a question as we walked past the entrance of the Morning Aroma.
'If we get our coffees there we'll end up back at our desk in five minutes. Some break.'
'I didn't know we got paid coffee breaks...'
They approached a Starbucks.
'Here?' Dale asked me.
'Can't do that, it's Starbucks. Overpriced and people will see that logo on your coffee cup holder and know you've strolled so far.'
'Oh...' he continued to ponder the irony of this as the doorway of the Starbucks and its softly strummed indie rock passed into the background. He turned back for a moment, validating what he'd seen.
'So what we do,' I interrupted his thoughts, 'is we go to the Morning Aroma on Third Street. It takes ten minutes to get to, but once you're back with that emblazoned mug everyone just assumes you went across the street. One Smoothycino please.'
He withdrew his attention from me, taking in his new, now noticed surroundings of the cafe. The smell of ground beans and the sound of percolation decorated the place as well as the contemporary European paintings and rustic wooden furniture could. Although they did cover up the commercial franchise aspect of the outlet semi-succesfully.
'You too?' she asked him, probing him for a similar need for a Smoothycino.
'What is a... Smoothycino?' he asked, dumbstruck by both his ignorance and her beauty. She laughed.
'I can't tell you the recipe, but, I can tell you we take two shots of the finest ground coffee, dollops and Italian ice-cream, some secret ingredients and blend until we've concocted our patented, creamy, refreshing and most importantly caffeinated latte smoothie'.
If someone told her she was the national Smoothycino showgirl Dale would have believed it.
'That's brilliant!' he said, still perspiring slightly from the walk here.
'That'll be $8.50.'
'That's ridiculous' he said with less enthusiasm.
'It's worth it' I said. 'It will meet all your needs.'

We walked back to the office with our Smoothycinos. Little was said. As the lift ascended he sipped at it and smiled. Once we were back at our desks he checked his email. There were two new messages.
'I can't believe this' he said to me. I've been here, paid, for an hour but I haven't done a single bit of work!'
'Yes.' I grinned at his naivety. Now imagine that again if we also both got here 20 minutes late!'

Dale slurped his Smoothycino thoughtfully.

I can see clearly now

I was walking past a bus stop today, on my way to collecting Mum’s gift pack for tomorrow. Standing there was a man I have seen several times at the supermarket nearby. Usually he is propped up on a stool and making eye contact with people, hoping for donations to support people with vision impairment. In fact, I recognised him from exactly two days ago when I’d swung into Woolworths to buy some food before uni.

Normally you can walk silently past these loose change pocket personifications on your way out of the supermarket, but last Thursday he had engaged me.
‘How’s it going mate?’ he’d said.
‘Yeah not bad’ I’d replied, as an acknowledgement of the question more than an answer. I then kept pace and walked off. I didn’t have anything against supporting blind people - according to my inner monologue - I just show that support in other ways and I didn’t want to donate money to possibly non-approved charities that lacked tax-deductible donation forms.
This had seemed to satisfy me as I didn’t think about it for the rest of the day.

So despite him not being perched on his stool today, I still cringed slightly as I tried to pass the bus stop and heard a familiar ‘How’s it going buddy?’
However this time it was quickly followed by a follow up question: ‘Can you tell me when the next bus is coming?’
I was confused, as the man had been standing by the posted timetable for at least the 30 seconds I had been approaching him.
‘I’m vision impaired’ he concluded.
Oh, it all made sense now; he was passionate about collecting money for vision-impaired people because he too was vision impaired.
After a few moments of interpreting the timetable and relaying the results to him I was able to walk away confident that he knew how long to wait until the next bus.
I knew then that I had been right earlier in considering myself a person who supported the vision impaired in non-financial ways. Thus I felt good about myself.

I feel it necessary to share the lesson I learnt about giving today. You don’t need to be ashamed about ignoring the charity collectors out the front of the supermarket anymore, because he can’t even really see you. He’s just heard the sound of your footsteps.

Today was Splendorous

They say in this world it's not what you know but who you know. That's been holding pretty true so far. When it comes to getting what I want I've usually been able to find the right network connection to get it.

This was applied today when I used my technical network knowledge to interpersonally crack the Splendour in the Grass online queue for tickets and stroll up to the ticket booth in the same way, albeit not physically, that I got Big Day Out tickets earlier this year from behind the museum. Except this time it was at the peak of demand instead of the trough...

Where am I going with this? I don't care! I got Splendour in the Grass tickets! It's awesome; I have been so pumped all day. A Twisted Delight has helped prolong the enjoyment long into the evening.

I'm going to Splendour! I'm 6ft 6 and I’m going to a two day music festival! Yeeha!


It was air-conditioned in the office but somehow being nine stories above the ground made Dale feel warmer. Through the windows he could see across the city streets and into the cloudless distance. He yawned. It was almost 10am on an armpit of a Tuesday morning and he was tired and thirsty. There were also a growing number of bug fixes from yesterday that needed their paperwork done today.
It was time for a Smoothycino. The law-blog's hilarious list of dual nationality mishaps was closed.

As he stood in a descending lift Dale pondered whether perhaps he was addicted to Smoothycinos. He was a very, very low-power executive and the Smoothycino was already the high point of his days. But was this really unhealthy? The more he thought about it the more he realised it probably was damaging his relationships with friends and family.

Dale walked through the sun until he once again reached climate control inside Morning Aroma's doors. His eyes scanned behind the counter until he saw her. She was the other reason for the Smoothycino obsession. Her blue eyes shone from below her bandanna. Curls of hair leaked out the back. She smiled as he approached the counter.
'Hey Hun' she greeted him, 'The usual?'
He confirmed. She moved to the back to prepare his treat. He strained his neck: to simultaneously watch her and to try and learn any hints on the Smoothycino construction process. It was useless.
'You know,' thought Dale to himself, 'I could marry a girl who could make a decent Smoothycino.'
This might have sounded like a good pickup line, but for Dale it wouldn't work. He hadn't even been with a woman since he started this job.
'Here' she said as she passed the Smoothycino, watching as he sipped.
'I put an extra scoop of ice-cream in, just for you!' she grinned.
Dale couldn't handle it. He had to do it. He was high again, high on Smoothycino.
'You know,' he blurted, but voice deep. 'I could marry a girl who could make a decent Smoothycino.'

'Really?' she and her eyebrows asked; the latter disappearing underneath the bandana.
What Dale didn't realise at the time was that Maria was actually only in Adelaide on a soon to expire Australian working visa.
Flustered, Dale persisted.
'I don't know what's the bigger highlight of my day...' he charmed '...Your warm smile or your cold treats... Or maybe getting my PsychologyOnline newsletter or the E-Legal webzine every Tuesday. Or...'
'Shhh...' she said, placing a single, coffee scented finger to his lips to stifle the rambling. Her eyes darted, counting customers.
'Do you have ten minutes?' she asked him. 'We can talk then.'
'I'm just going out for coffee' Dale's mind flashed back to earlier that morning.
'Of course I can wait' he said.

Fifteen minutes later Maria was standing close to him and finishing her proposal.
'It's just so nice here,' she concluded, 'and I really don't want to go back to New Zealand.'
Dales heart pounded. Dual citizenship immigration was what he'd read about just this morning. It was fate! He knew exactly what he needed to tell her.

'I love you.'
No, wait. That wasn't it. He knew it wasn't right as her face fell.
'No, I don't think you understand' she mumbled. 'It would just be a paper marriage. We'd work out some sort of deal; I could provide you with Smoothycino's. Or maybe tell you the secret ingredient...'
'Oh' realised Dale.
'I like Smoothycinos!' interrupted a handsome voice.
Both turned to look. He was tanned, athletic with sun-bleached hair. That cotton muscle-top did not look business casual at all. Dale doubted he could even get away with it on Informal Fridays.
Maria glanced at Dale, then back to the stranger.
'Well, thanks for listening!' she said, but to who and with what sincerity could not be gauged.

They walked off; Dale watched her go as the deep voicing explaining requirements for dual nationality faded into the distance.
Dale felt terrible. For the last few months the droll office life had been bearable with the flickering hope that somewhere, out there, something special had been waiting for him. Now he knew it actually was there all along, he just hadn't been able to accept it. Slowly he trudged back to the office, pausing once to buy a copy of The Big Issue from a hobo in a suit which was able only to compound his misery.

As he approached the security door to the back of the office Dale knew that he would be unsubscribing from e-Legal the moment he got back to his desk.
'How fitting it would be,' he thought, 'to lose not one but two of my reasons to live on the same day.'
Balancing the Big Issue and the Smoothycino in one hand Dale tried to lift his pocket to the scanner's level and begin his walk to the lifts. As the light clicked green he felt his fingers holding air instead of polystyrene and a moment later he watched his Smoothycino crash into the bitumen below his feet.

Dale paused for a second and considered shedding a clichéd single tear. But he recomposed himself. Things may be bad right now, but after all, it was almost lunch.

Last Parks and Last Minutes

The only bad thing about Tai Chi is not really getting a chance to warm up before I start stretching my body into the shape of geese and flowers and dragons. As I drove towards uni, where my classes are held each Wednesday, I thought about how it would be good if I could get a parking spot at the end of the car park. Then I would have a brisk walk ahead of me to get to the class on time. So I prayed to Car Park God. Well, I actually just assumed this scenario would happen. Assumption is how you pray to Car Park God.

I pulled into the car park and received a flick of intuition to take the outer band of parks. I began following down the long, rounded lane. Early I figured I would just ignore any car parks that presented and accept with gratitude a spot at the end of the lane before I was spat back out onto the road again.

But as I progressed past lines of cars either side of me I grew worried. There had not been a single spot available. A test of faith. There, as I came back up to the road was my spot. It was bathed in a ray of sunlight, two spots from the end, the only one free. I parked, smiled and strode off.
All the other parks were bathed in sunlight too. I don't know why they cut down the trees there.

In Tai Chi they tell you to relax and forget about all the things you have to do today. I tried, but it was hard. I had a shitload of work to do due Friday that I had to try and complete by tonight. Following that I was supposed to finish (and by definition, start) my 2000 word research paper about entrepreneurship that I had due tomorrow for uni.

Twelve hours later I've realised how it is that my level of procrastination and my success in assignments both seem so high. I'm evolved! In my brain there is some facet, beyond consciousness, that does my assignments for me while I procrastinate. So long as I sit in front of my computer with my assignment sheet in front of me and look at it on occasion, my brain chews through what it knows and comes up with answers. Meanwhile I can just sit at my computer doing mundane things like watching YouTube videos or even mentally investing in today's tough Sudoku (which I beat, by the way). Then I just alt-tab back to my assignment word document and new information just falls from my fingers on to the page. After a little while I go back to StickCricket and like a microwave oven, there's a beep after a few minutes and more stuff comes out.

I can only assume I gained this power from the experience of doing so many assignments at the last minute over the courses of my education. I know that I've done that many battles with procrastination over the past four and a half years because my journal is half full with tales of them. I should know for sure, I reread most of it tonight while my hyper-brain came up with theories about cinnamon shops.

Tonight is my last, last minute assignment. No wonder I've drawn this one out so much. I'm going to miss this.

An insight into what it's like living in my brain

I walked towards my car in the uni car park, humming a little as I felt my muscles all begin contract and shudder as the gym cooldown began. A few hours earlier I'd been humming Mr. Brightside (or at least the Thin White Duke remix of it) and walking in the opposite direction. Sub-consciously I recalled this and by the time I'd turned my key in the ignition that random tune had come full circle and I was back into the chorus in almost perfect timing with my stereo, which started back up as I reversed from my spot.

Heading down the hill I looked up at my mirror and noticed I'd skewed it when I was getting in and I was now staring into my backseat. I reached up to adjust it.
'My life is a lot like adjusting a rear-view mirror...' came the voice in my head.

"No, goddamnit, it isn't just like that at all" I muttered aloud.

'I can see a lot of similarities between the way I drive fast-paced through dark, wet streets the way a rabbit would bolt through similar forests chased by a fox. The only difference is the technology. It's the music. I'm a lot like a rabbit..'

"BULLSHIT!" I reminded myself again as I was passing around the final leg of the course to my house.

'My life is a lot like my brain, always coming up with poetic metaphors that are unappreciated by others.'

"No!" I heard my voice again. "Your life is not like anything special. If it is like anything it's basically like According to Jim because really it's just self gratifying and inconsequential. It's completely devoid of interest and humour."

`Mum, Dad! Please don't fight!`

"Am I taking the piss?"

'Not me, I thought that one was a good one.'

"For once can I just drive home without my minding going off into literary masturbation? Can't I just think about sports and how much I need to pee and, you know, normal things?" The windscreen humidified subtlety from the force of my breath.

I was surprised I didn't get a response.

'I wonder if I will get pee shy when I get home if the painter is still working on the hall?'


'Has to happen now, I've thought about it.'

"FUCK! Shut Up! Just shut up and stop thinking stupid things about stupid things and metaphors about bullshit! Just think like a normal person! Jesus!"

'... I'm not Jesus, I'm only your internal monologue...'

`I am Jesus.`


`Just shittin' ya`

I hate you brain.

The Tour's Final Destination

Tonight's schnitzel review pretty much epitomised the whole endeavour. It started out with a few people - Tim and Me went shopping for beanies - but by the end it was a thriving social event. I started out famished, but by the final review my thirst for schnitzel was long since satiated.

It has been five hours since I finished eating that schnitzel and only now do I feel like the constraints of my stomach are no longer being breached. I don't know if there is some schnitzel-like equivalent of a hangover but I will probably have one of those tomorrow.

Vow to self: Never eat schnitzel again.

Montage of schnitzel related memories

Update, 3:47am: Yes, this does seem like the kind of thing I would spend 3 schnitzel fuelled hours making.

If I should die before I wake...

I was talking to Mumsies this weekend and listening attentively as she detailed her wishes for her Living Will. Like the majority of people she did not wish to be kept kicking on life support and would prefer to die gracefully.

If it were me who had fallen into a comatose state - unable to communicate with the outside world and forced to live inside my head where I would probably be inventing sudokus for myself to solve - my wishes would be a little different. Thanks to soap operas I know that I will awake from my vegetation at the most inappropriate time for some of my friends or relatives. I also know, thanks to psychology, that my brain function will be extremely limited and I will literally be an instinct based animal primarily concerned with satisfying urges thanks to the shutting down of several key cortex's in my brain.

So it seems that my Living Will should follow that of everyone else's. That is, if I am a vegetable kept alive by machines, and there is little chance of cloning my brain and putting it into a cyborg, I should be put down. However with one exception. On the off chance I do become a vegetable I would like to be kept alive for 6 months. During this time I will not be shaved because I would really like to know if I can grow a beard just given enough time. Assuming a decent crop of facial hair can be grown in this time - and assuming that facial hair is not so awesome that it finds the cure for my disease - then please take photos and post them on my journal so the Internet knows what I could have been. Then, finally, I can be laid to rest. Please frame the best photo of me with a goatee and put it next to my urn.

Train Drivers probably lead boring lives

God, it's Monday. I need to find a better alarm than 'Here Comes the Hotstepper' for the first morning of the week. It lacks the perk that, say, SexyBack has to kick me into the shower and get me out of the house in quick time.

I probably can't blame Ini Kamoze but I'm now crawling down the road towards the station stuck behind a good citizen who isn't running late for the train. Finally I park at the station and all I have to do is cross the tracks, get on the platform and I think I'll have seconds to spare. As I follow the fence towards the crossing at a decent pace I'm shocked to see a freight train speeding along the tracks, getting ready to block my crossing for the next few minutes.

Inwardly I am slightly relieved because I know the usual rule for the passenger trains is to wait for the goods trains to pass before they leave the station. However on the outside the adrenaline from the past ten minutes of rushing boils over and I stop walking so fast, roll my eyes and wave my hand, dismissive of the whole drama.

The freight train driver, who has probably been completely unstimulated since dawn, sees this. As the front locomotive crosses past me he blasts his loud horn with such startling force that even the first synth of SexyBack couldn't compare to how quickly I jumped.

Thanks, train driver, I think we both shared our most interesting thing of the day.

A New Victory

Everything's changing. Another season is over. Tuesday proved the best possible day to get my windscreen wipers fixed. Well, apart from the morning of. On a day of, and I quote the weather person the night before, 'Ridiculous weather' I managed to will my car through a storm to the auto-electrician to have parts of my car reconnected to other parts. Now I can activate my wipers and turn signals again. This indicates a good winter of driving ahead.

I have a new indicator stalk, or "stork" as it says on the mechanics receipt. I have a new appreciation for my education. Which is basically finished as well, though it will poke through the metaphorical snow of early winter.

It absolutely pissed down when I drove my car home from the industrial district of Blackwood Tuesday afternoon. It was rush hour and basically the entire rainfall of last year crashed down on and around my car. My CD player, the electronics in that still working fine, could not drown it out. As I aquaplaned around dark, windy corners and up hills towards my peak of a house I thanked the timing I'd chosen for myself. I pulled into my driveway and, to my pleasure, witnessed the basketball ring I'd fixed up and anchored a few weekends earlier was still standing. I cackled aloud at this point, content that while seasons can change I can still beat the weather. My neighbours could have overheard me swearing at storm clouds and taunting them.

Seven hours before the start of Winter, 2007 I had my appointment for this week with my physio. He has been coaching me through this whole ripped apart spine thing since last year. Today I walked out of his building without an appointment card for my next session. No, I didn't lose it. I don't have another appointment for my back. I have exercised six days in a row, three gyms, two pilates, two games of basketball since Saturday. Pain, like rain in many ways, can't fuck with me.

Yes, I have a lot of expectations for this new season. New positions at work, new positions at home, new homes, new cars, new not being in as much pain anymore. How can any season compete with a positive attitude? Not even cold weather can add an ache to these bones.

Also new this season, the next photos of the month. Don't miss your valuable opportunity to roll over. I never would.

On the first day of Winter

The third Angus Wallpaper of the Month.

May 2007

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Now into its third month of making my journal just that little bit less narcissistic.

Journal entries that didn't make it

Last night I went to bed with some wine in me and my socks on.

This morning I woke up and the first thing I noticed was two neatly laid out socks on the pillow next to my head. The second thing I noticed was that I wasn't wearing socks.

Brad's Wintry Journal 5.0


I could sense Dale groan as the latest passenger selected the eighth floor. The lift would now be bussing its way up every floor of the building. I didn't empathise.
'Jackpot!' I enthused to Ben, who was top floor management and both wearing a tie despite his responsibility for the business casual policy as well as being squished next to me at the back.
'Jackpot!' he replied, 'God, it's been a while since I've seen one of those!'
'Going on three weeks!' I recalled over the sound of the ninth ding in the past few minutes.
'Well Ben, this is my stop' I said to his imminent chuckle.
'Ah, well good to see you' he replied. We should catch up again soon, let me know next time you go downstairs for coffee.'
'Definitely' I winked as the doors slid shut and I stepped out. Dale peeled himself from my back.
'Ben signs our payslips' I answered his unasked question. 'That's why we lie.'
'About the jackpot...'
'Right. Yeah, we stopped at every floor yesterday. And on Monday. But lying is better than awkward silences.'
Dale just rolled his eyes. I'd noticed a change in him since last Tuesday, I was yet to identify why. I figured he needed more coaching.
'It's good to have a back up conversations related to office topics. Just pleasantries. Stereotypical jokes that everyone chuckles at despite hearing them all the time.'
'So,' probed Dale, 'that's why we say "Jackpot" when every floor gets picked?'
'Right,' I confirmed. 'And we say "I need a coffee" whenever we get given work in the morning.'
'I guess' Dale replied non-committal.
'I know why you're grumpy!' I guessed. 'Hump Day!'
'Hump Day?'
'The middle of the week, the most isolated day of the work day. Last weekend is forgotten, next weekend is still to far away...'
'And that's supposed to cheer me up?' Dale asked as we arrived back at our desks.
'Well, we are going to the bar tonight. You coming?'
'I thought we go to the bar after work on Fridays?' he countered.
'No we go to the bar during work on Fridays.'
'Oh.' Dale processed. 'I'll pass.'
'Awww,' I patronised. 'Sounds like someone hasn't got over their case of The Mondays.'
Like a starters gun, Dale counted five minutes of desk appearance from that office pleasantry, then walked away. It may be hump day but what Dale needed more was a Smoothycino.

In his left hand Dale carried his Smoothycino. With the right he wiped the rain from his face. He stood in the lobby, momentarily, before the lift dinged and a crowd filed in. Dale selected the ninth floor then retired to the back of the lift. From there he saw a slender, manicured finger select the tenth. Dale's mind raced of tales about eyes meeting across crowded rooms. But this time it wasn't a room, it was an elevator, not an eye but a finger. The Smoothycino he held melted faster than it should as he watched her brown eyes stare vacantly at the doors in front of her while all those between them departed onto the lower floors.

Finally it was just the two of them in the elevator now as Dale's second to top stop arrived. It was a regular scenario borne from a multitude of delays. However this time Dale sensed an opportunity, a chance to grow. Time stood still, as if it was waiting for him to grow the balls.

'You must get sick of being on the top floor sometimes' he offered.
She looked at him. She was pretty.
'Yeah...' she smiled, melting Dale's heart, 'but... the view's good from up there too!'
Two shots of finely ground coffee were already flowing through Dale's veins. The caffeine's diuretic effect spilled into his orbital frontal cortex.
'The view's not so bad in here either...'

She frowned at him! Dale froze, staring back. Hope, awkwardness and shame were written up on his face.
'I think you may have gone beyond office pleasantries' she chillingly read between the lines.
'Oh...' muttered Dale. Inside his head the reaction was a lot more vulgar. For what seemed like minutes Dale just stood staring stupidly.
'Are you getting off now, or just going to keep standing there?' she asked him.
Dale looked around stupidly.
'The doors won't close; you've been standing across the sensor for at least five minutes.'
'Smart and good looking!' was, for some reason, Dale's response. The mood lightened. She laughed.
'Listen, I'm Bry' she said. 'and if you'll agree to get off now I won't ignore you in the lift in the days following all this gaucheness.'
This seemed like a good deal. She offered her hand. Dale took it and shook. He assumed slamming the emergency stop, pushing her against the wall and madly making out with her would also be beyond office pleasantries.
'It's a pleasure to meet you' he said.

My Weekend

Recently I have both developed and noticed a minor idiosyncrasy.

I am a casual winker. (WINKER!) However it has been getting progressively worse. I basically wink every day. It's not a random wink though, it's what I call my "that's right" wink. It's an arrogant little facial flex I use when I'm too lazy or cool to say "that's right". Which happens more often than you think because people often ask me questions like 'Are you coming for coffee?' and 'Is this train going to Belair?'

The problem with this comes from my natural urge to analyse things and process them with my inner dialogue. So very often when I come to a realisation about a puzzle I've been mulling over in my head, I'll wink.

It was when I first noticed this phenomena that I processed what I've just written here. It was on that day I coined the term 'That's Right Wink' after identifying the pattern. Of course, like all other conclusions once I reached this I winked.

Given my propensity to get sidetracked by things I've already thought about, now every time I wink I think back to my realisation about the wink.

So recently I have both developed and noticed a minor idiosyncrasy; I keep winking twice.

Hot Balls

I woke up this morning and I was the coldest I'd ever been. Well, not literally. I mean this day last year it got down to zero and once I did visit the snow and make a snow-woman with boobs, but they were all a while ago. Too long passed to still have attributed temperatures. So getting out of bed it was the coldest I'd ever been.

The sun was out though, and I had the day off work so I could study for exams. This meant watching NBA finals, going to the seaside for lunch followed by the gym. My exam is in that gym after all, so I was getting acclimatised. So with all that sun, gambling and working out I was hot. Hotter than I've ever been.

But after I cooled down from the gym my neck was sore. Sorer than it had ever been. So I set the spa to 40 degrees and went inside to study.

After recapping identifying business opportunities and business entry methods it was midnight and I figured it was time for a spa. So I stripped down to my bathers and walked outside. It was cold. In the spa it was hot. I was slowly being cooked as the tension in my neck was boiled away. It was so hot my skin prickled. I was hotter than I'd ever been.

Once simmered, it took me eight minutes to get out of the spa and back into the brisk night air. The wind rallied chills that racked my wet body and stuck to me. My bathers attached to my legs like an icy blowjob. I was cold, colder than I'd ever been. Even considering all the recent, attributable memories.

I dropped my bathers and made a naked sprint to be in my living room. There I was alone, but warm thanks to the wood stove that was bathing the room in its enticing glow. Wrapped in a towel I stood and slowly evaporated back to room temperature.

I had a thought as I dropped my towel. I turned to face the fire, only inches away. The warm draft curled between my legs. I made a mental note to install a fireplace into the bathroom. My balls were lifted by the gentle warmth and I was there, happy, happier than I'd ever been.

On the Cusp

Tomorrow is my last day as a university student. Ever. This is scary. Also I wrote a bunch about it but then FireFox loaded a link in this tab and I lost it all. It was deep and insightful. Oh well.

I finished Uni

I'm now officially highly educated. Any spelling mistakes in this entry will be highly eyeronic. Oh wait, I guess not.

Today was not a good day for To Do lists. Not the weekly to do list I draw on my bedroom window with whiteboard marker. No, a bad day for my yearly goals to do list, scrawled on butcher paper from Woolworths and stuck on my bedroom door. I crossed off three things from it today, big things.

Pass uni was one of them. It's gone.

Finish my Elimination Final tribute frame. That's done. I bought the frame and cardboard at Marion after the exam.

Finally I finished reading 'Social Intelligence' by Daniel Goleman. A great book which gives the psychological and neurological details about human behaviour in a very easy to read way.

I would almost have been able to cross of producing the Faux Pas mixtape except this one Goose song is terrifically difficult to mix out because it ends so loudly and abruptly.

My brain hurts, I left a little piece of it on desk 5L.

The Real World is kind of Soupy

Today was the nonchalant beginning of the rest of my life. Figuratively speaking. I was at work for what I suspect may be my career. Trying to avoid all of that I was speaking to Josh through Meebo and he greeted me to the 'Real World', at the same time warning me that it would get 'kind of samey'.

Not to worry, I believed, I'll be able to spice it up with the same jazz I've applied to every other bland meal that fate has dished up.

Seeing that my first day out of higher education was, ironically, spent training in diluted amounts I was afforded the chance to peruse for lunch. This, perhaps by design, took longer than expected and so I found myself in the bowels of Woolworths, Rundle Mall with a very angry stomach and cans of chunky soup for $1.99 each. Of course I reasoned I could finish two cans. This week I'm all about reaching lofty goals. I bought a bread roll as well.

By 2pm, after not finding a large enough bowl in any of the kitchenettes and resorting to a Tupperware cake container I found in the trays and jugs section, I had 8 minutes worth of boiling soup: 130mls heated per minute. I also had one semi-large tea-spoon. It was the best implement I'd found during that eighth of an hour microwaving. 30 seconds later that spoon was submerged somewhere in a pool of chunky potato and bacon soup and I was digging it out with a pair of paddle-pop sticks.

After the hour it took me to finish that soup I realised that, yes, the soup was bland. But as usual something had come along to spice up my life once again. Then I caught the early train home.

I haven't finished uni

I got my HECS debt statement today. The last 4 years of uni shenanigans has cost me 20 grand.

I'm going to have to win a lot of blackjack to pay that off.


A hard day at the office wasn't measure by how much code was designed, reviewed, or added to source control. Any conception that a busy day would involve actual work was severely misguided. The method Dale used to measure how intense his day went was to count the number of emails he sent. Or alternatively he'd check if he'd stayed at work past five.

It wasn't that actually working was too challenging or too drab. If Dale told the truth he'd say it was his favourite thing to do at work. The occasional puzzles to solve, solutions to be implemented and added satisfaction of a job completed were fulfilling, and in a different way than being invited to a team lunch for one department and team drinks for another department on the same day was fulfilling. But white collar workers aren't bred to spend all their time working. Their duty is instead to spend most of their time passing work around via emails like a pinball, bouncing from cubicle to cubicle and shore to shore with attached discussions about what work needed to be done, but never with an impolite accusation at whoever needed to do it. Merely the suggestion to investigate it and then most likely pass it back.

That's not to say that passing work around is in itself a difficult task. But for someone as socially impotent as Dale an increase in the volume of emails equated to an increase in a days mental effort.
'Is Chandra Singh a dude or a chick?' Dale asked me.
'No idea.' I replied. 'Just start it with "Greetings".'
'Can't do it.' said Dale. 'I need to refer to them with an assignment, as in "I need him, or her, to do this work for me".'
'Don't worry; we have online tools for this kind of thing.' I laughed.

A few minutes later Dale still had no answer.
'Google India image search comes back with mostly women for "Chandra" but it's pretty much all dudes for "Chandra Singh.'
We both pondered.
'I'll just tell them to get Russell Shah to do it.' Dale decided.
'Ah, poor Russell.' I said. By this stage of the project Russell was probably getting seriously overburdened.

Dale stared at the open email composition window, left now with only the most important detail, the sign off. Company policy dictated the structure and formatting of his actual signature. Thankfully, however it did not clearly specify what word he should write above his signature, followed by a comma.

'This is me telling them to investigate' Dale considered aloud. 'So I can't use "cheers" really. And they don't work for me so I can't use "regards" either.'
'Thanks?' I asked him.
'No,' he frowned, 'I used that yesterday.'
After six minutes of nothing else Dale decided that "warm regards," would add a friendly informality which he thought may help with his relationship with Russell given the amount of work he kept giving him. The send button was his flipper and he bounced all of the work he'd been given for Thursday into pinball limbo.

'What time is it now in Chennai?' Dale asked me.
'7:50 in the morning, won't be anyone there for a while'
'Sounds like we've got time to get a coffee then.' He said.
We both chuckled. There was always time to get a coffee.
'Might get a muffin too!' Dale didn't chuckle again, just nodded solemnly.

I locked my desktop. Dale turned off the 'Free Shot' light above the drain.

The Tides are Turning

The Tides of Electric Circus
What kind of human nature compels one to line up for 30 minutes? The quest for a $20 door charge to drink beer in a cramped environment? Prestige? The quest for one of your friends to perhaps get some pussy in Operation: Rebound?

Why do people line up for small venues when really there's nothing particularly special inside? Sure, the barman was both friendly and generous and the door lady was quite attractive but that wasn't my motivation. What was my motivation? Running personal protection for the friend above. The tides of the electric circus line aren't scheduled by the moon, the people rise and swell even without the moon to pull them. I swear to god my back pocket was reached into at least three times. I managed to manoeuvre a glance behind at least once and I'd testify someone was blowing their nose with one of my backup tissues. I had arms, legs, hips, breasts and stomachs crushed into my back for twenty minutes and I held strong until I unexpectedly found myself in the club and overwhelmed by the new tides, the rise and fall of Calvin Harris.

The Tides of Vindaloo
Every speed bump I've driven over since Friday night has reminded my oesophagus and by association myself of the extra hot vindaloo I ordered and consumed on Friday night. The tides of vindaloo are not like normal tides either. They don't raise and lower like a moon controlled draw bridge. They lurk and snigger, waiting for moments like basketball games or important phone calls to swell. No one believed I could handle the sweat inducing curry last night. No one will believe how solid an effort it truly was, even the waitress was impressed.


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This took way to many weeks.


Dale stifled a yawn as he tried his best to appear impatient, with a dance of shuffling and glancing. He stood in the lobby watching with interest as the floor numbers digitalised above each lift bay jumped between ten and two. On his watch were the same numbers, there reading nine four six. A lift chimed. Doors split open and each of the latecomers filed in.

This crowd of tardiness Dale had come to attribute to the Friday Principle, wherein lateness was permitted to a percentage of normal weekday lateness. For Dale that was fifty percent – around 22 minutes - or one train later. Dale treated the rigidness of scheduled start times with the same respect the family of managers above him gave to spending budgets for new projects.
The doors joined again and the lift began traversing upwards, just momentarily, before shuddering to a stop on the first floor. A small contingent of extras joined the lift and like a team of childish inquisitiveness began lighting up the panel of selected floors until every one below Dales was chosen.

'Can you feel it?' a feminine voice whispered next to his ear.
He turned to see Bry, who looked particularly astonishing in her chosen casual Friday outfit, although without breaching any level of office conservatism.
'Feel what?' Dale's heart beat faster. 'Oh, shit! Uh... ever floor's lit up. It's like that...' his brain fumbled.
'No!' grinned Bry over the sound of another floor achieved 'bing'. 'The Pressure! The pressure to be late without being too late.'
'I'm feeling more pressure regarding making small talk' he admitted, after an awkward, considering pause.
She laughed in what was quickly becoming a disturbingly empty lift.
'You just need more interesting things to say' she said.
'Like about how we're running late but not too late?'
'Mmmm' she hummed, like the fan on a server box, processing his feelings and returning responses. 'I have this theory: that on Friday it's alright to be late to a certain percentage of how late you are normally, but increased. I think that's interesting.'

Dale pondered this.

'I'm interesting' he thought. 'I don't think the world is interested in my interestingness though. I don't think she's interested in my interesting interestingness. Hey... that's my theory.'
Her eyes contacted his, dragging them back to the conversation.
'Like that!' she said. 'You're thinking something, you should be saying something!'
He furrowed momentarily, and then asked: 'So, got much planned for the weekend?'
'Gosh!' she said. 'What a dull question!'
Dale looked about, embarrassed, but the lift was now rising with only two onboard. It reached the ninth floor.
'Sorry,' he started. 'I'll get better at small talk...'
'Oops! Forgot my floor!' Bry interjected, stabbing the tiny '10', illuminating the last of the lights.
'Checkm... Bing... Yahtz...' Dale stammered.
Bry laughed warmly, but with firmly eyebrows raised.
'You're going to start getting my emails' she said. 'Hopefully that will give us something to talk about.'
Dale's feet found carpet; perplexed. The doors closed on her as she waved goodbye.
'...Jackpot' whispered Dale.

Life is a Highway

Seventeen months ago I was hurtling through darkness across the Nullarbor. It would have been about 3:40am, but that seems specific and betrays the fact that I really don't know the time. That's without considering the difficulties of time difference with daylight savings factored as well.

That morning, which I think was yesterday morning, I'd been asleep in my bed. But that was a pie, two iced coffees, a bouncy ball, a couple of abos and a schnitzel away. Thousands of kilometres on cruise control. A pipeline had been followed that I don't think had started yet. I was on the longest straight length of road in the southern hemisphere and simultaneously asleep. Or awake. I remember very shitty coffee which I was more thank thankful for. Just the concept of working out how shitty it was bought me minutes of consciousness.

In the back-seat my Dad and brother were sleeping in seats were I was either not sleeping or maybe sleeping. I hadn't slept at all since being in my bed, but I'd woken up over the Western Australia border.

In the front passenger seat was Steve. He was also staying awake through coffee analysis, push-ups and reading a fantasy novel in the light of the glovebox.

'Fox!' I spotted it first. That's how roadkill poker worked. Whatever you spotted first you added to your hand and whoever got the best hand won. I was almost on a full house. Two dead roos and two dead bunnies. Steve had three foxes and an echidna. It was going to be close.

'Fox!' I repeated, blinking rapidly as I realised it was 2 hours later and I was in the passenger seat. My fingers touched my chest, feeling the saliva that had trailed down my shirt. I didn't remember all the micro sleeps that had prevailed. I didn't remember the sun.

'Thanks' said Steve. Driving across the Nullarbor at night is essentially just turning your high beams off when trucks approach. Doesn't seem that complicated compared to real life, which was spreading a distance away now.

I woke up in the backseat. I'd chosen 15 minutes of napping over showering at a truck stop. The sun was rising, but not in a shining way. It was grey, the sun was fucking lazy. Casting monochrome illumination over wherever we were. I eventually roused myself upright and sought out a sandwich and juice. I made eye contact with Steve as we mentally acknowledged that we'd spent six hours and six hundred kilometres forging through the darkness with essentially the power of our minds.

I woke up again. I'd chosen 10 minutes of napping over showering at the truck stop. I could smell the steam over the scents of my dreams. We were eight overtaking lanes away from where I thought we were in the last paragraph. A totalled car was wrecked next to where we parked, dragged to the rest stop from wherever whoever had died. I stretched my legs for the sake of the cliché. The summer dirt seemed damp. I went back to drooling on my self, hung from a seatbelt above a pillow.

Two weeks ago Alex turned 18. In another week my Dad turns 50. By the end of the year Steve turns 21. This ramble basically proves I cannot describe the value I have for these three people in my life, my brothers and my father. My whole life I'm basically in a tiny cabin hurtling into the unknown with only their support, conversation, teasing and character to drive me on. I'm independent, I could live without them. But with them I can achieve those impossible things.

I'm the only one not celebrating a milestone life anniversary this year, which makes me feel strange. Because they all seem to be pretty secure in their paths, tracked along pipelines, whereas right now I feel like I'm hurtling into the unknown darkness without enough sleep. Every time I close my eyes I can remember the uncertainty that's ahead. But It's remembering moments like that trip that I know that I'm never alone. And I remember that sunshine and model hills are found in any direction. Whether they're in your dreams or after you wake up I'm still learning.

Happy Birthday kin.

Pleasant Thoughts make Pleasant Lives

Fuck you multitrip, you're going to have to try harder than that to make your price rise palatable.

a Brown Day

I'm now back to working five days a week, what with my university adventure becoming nothing but a twenty grand debt statement.

To celebrate working more hours I bought myself a new work outfit, ironically during an extended lunch break. I got some brown pants which I saved until today.

I've never worn brown pants to work before, to me they symbolise a massive change. They are much warmer in contrast to the stark, business black pants I've previously worn. There's more creativity woven into these earthy tones. The shirt is nice too, white with brown lines written down the front, back and sides.

Something else I've been buying during lunch breaks lately is books. I've gone spastic on them lately. I don't know if this is some sort of aging milestone that happens around 22 but it's happened to me.

Have been doing a lot of writing too, in brown pants and in no pants.

I have also enjoyed having my hand on my keys in my pocket and pretending for strangers that my central locking is voice activated.

Acceptable in the 90's

I get worried when I start noticing signs in my life. Last week it was a year. 1995 to be specific. I picked up a copy of Microserfs by Douglas Coupland at Borders on Thursday. By the train ride home on Friday I was 114 pages in and wondering if the prologue titled 'Fall 1993' wasn't actually a prologue at all! Checking the published date confirmed it was a 1995 publication.
'How strange!' I thought. 'And how the IT industry has changed since then.'
The line between real people and nerds have almost completely blended since then. Everyone has a PC.

I had to put the book down eventually, as the train pulled in to Blackwood and I walked into a weekend and towards my car, which had Triple J's Hottest 100 volume 4 installed into the CD player. I can't recall what prompted me to pick that off my shelf earlier in the week, but obviously the double up of the date prompted some severe introspection. Obviously fate was trying to teach me a lesson.

Life was a lot simpler in 1995. Guitar riffs were simpler. Everything had way less buttons. As far as I can tell, people talked a lot less shit. But that probably depends who you were listening to.

So I make it my vow for this week. Live life like it's 1995. Will report back with findings.

It was Acceptable at the Time

I set my alarm this morning for 8am. That's what time I used to get up in 1995. Just enough time to get ready for school and eat breakfast before I ran down the hill to class.

Then I changed it to 7:52 because I did not have to shave back in 1995.

I got to work. For future reference - perhaps when I am reliving 2007 in a dozen years - the drop 2 implementation did not go so well during the weekend. Lucky for me everything I'd contributed was working fine. Serendipitous. So as my work was done, or still done, I didn't have much to do. Even appealing to managers for jobs to do was fruitless. Eventually I was told to take it easy. This was about lunchtime, so I microwaved my spaghetti, grabbed Microserfs and headed down to the river to read it, 90's style.

The morning had dragged on, and I'd been looking forward to this moment. In fact I've been looking forward to a lot of things lately, like Splendour, birthday parties, writers week, the end of the project (is that possible?). To Summer. Definitely looking forward to Summer.

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But as I sat there, on the grassy bank under that cold, blue sky that shows up on days when the sun is out but the air is icy, I realised how ironic it was that in 90's week all I could think about was the future.

It was the middle of winter. Exactly! The fact it was this sunny was downright suspicious. I shouldn't be dreaming of warm mornings, nights in town without a jacket and eating a plate load of chicken in china town tomorrow. I should be shivering under a pergola, trying to avoid drizzle and coming up with jokes about revolutionary operating systems. I smiled to myself as I learnt what life was teaching me. I needed to stop focussing on the future, live for the day, today and every day.
'That is so 90's.' I thought to myself. 'Radical.'
Now that I'd adjusted my focus I realised that this whole month was pregnant with possibility.

Seeing a pregnant woman may have influenced this epiphany.

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Stick it in my Pig

I went to the gym last night so I went to the central markets today for a plate of chicken. Wet Ho Fun costs more than Dry Ho Fun.

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This is one of those little events where the enjoyment of the first experience builds the anticipation for the second. After Friday's lunch I was really keen on some chicken. Today just wasn't that nice. It was disappointing. But I was just glad to be out of the office. Still nothing for me to do this week.
In 1995 I came to that same food court one Friday night. My family used to combine grocery shopping with family outings. It was very efficient. Not very I.T., it seems, judging by this week.
I read recently that grocery shopping is a great first date activity. Apparently in the new millennium the traditional date is now dead and you have to show girls that you like them, but you're also a busy person with goals and shopping lists. No time for a quiet drink or to take them to a movie. You were even supposed to consider bringing friends to catch up with at the same time. The more social functions you can integrate into an hour, the more attractive you are to the opposite sex. Very Steve Jobs, not very 90's.

After lunch Josh and I walked through the markets looking for a Maneki Neko statue for a bargain price. He told me his business plan to assemble an army of beckoning cats on his desk which would elicit loose change from everyone else at his office. I think he's bored at work too. He did seem committed though, we checked out five stores before finding the best price.
While we were looking for the cat I found a little green pig statue, tennis ball sized with a coin slot down its spine. He was perched on a shelf, standing out against a crowd of yellow pigs. So Josh bought his beckoning cat and I bought a green pig. His name is Green Pig.

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Josh went back to work but I was still hiding from boredom after lunch so I took Green Pig for a walk down Rundle Mall to see if I could get money from strangers. I got no money. I was hoping to at least collect enough to cover the cost of buying him. I only felt awkward at the end as I walked down a Hindley Street alley back to work and a scruffy youth came up to me and asked if I could spare change for the bus. I said I couldn't, and shook my empty pig for emphasis.

It's been exactly one year since I bulged my disc today. Happy anniversary, year of constant pain. I'm very glad that year's over. I think I've been suffering from the Anniversary Reaction. I read about it during work on Monday.

When I was back at my desk I sat Green Pig up on empty box of paper reams in my cubicle. I stuck a Post-It Note under him saying "Pat green pig, 20c." I now have forty cents. I wonder how profitable one of the yellow pigs would have been.

I feel a special bond with the green pig. We're both the independent type, but with fucked up backs.

Sitting and Reading

After my shower this morning I stood on the scales. My weight's in the 90's. I was happy with this.

I drove past the primary school today and it reminded me of the last time I was there, voting in an election. I voted for Howard. I had this feeling that Howard was first elected in 1995 and as I drove up the hill I felt this comfortable wave of constantness. No matter what changed or was invented or exploded between the 90's and today, there was always Howard.
When I got back to my computer I checked Wikipedia and he was elected in 1996. I felt ripped off, like my identity had paid for twelve years of Howard and only got eleven. Then I remembered I was supposed to be living in the 90's and there was no Wikipedia. The only way to find things like this out was to check an encyclopaedia at the library. And you had to hope no one had the letter you needed out on an overnight loan.
Wikipedia was created in 2001. I wasn't supposed to know that.

After lunch I decided to go shopping for a new office chair, because I am totally over my year of back pain and ergonomic kneeling. I spent most of an hour sitting in chairs, thinking about how they feel. They all feel pretty much the same. After picking a chair I had to decide on a fabric, and I was shown the most captivating colour chart. Every colour was named solely based on the functional purpose of the colour. There were dozens of layerings with no layers of complexity, language or features. The display book's copyright date: 1995. Hell yes.

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Practical seemed like the obvious choice, although I may change my mind and go with Versatile if a few things change.

The ads for House tonight tempted me to watch the repeat as it's a good episode. I miss House, but I try to avoid rewatching episodes on my own because if there's one thing I know about women it's that they all love House. It's incredible. Once they find out you have them on DVD they start getting clucky. I've had so many defining moments with women, juxtaposed with house repeats, that I'm conditioned to get aroused when I hear the theme song. Also House is basically my hero so that may be a factor as well.
I don't know who my television hero was in 1995. Probably William McInnes, as Blue Heelers started the year before.
I wasn't supposed to know that either.

Suffer for Fashion

There was so little work to do today at work that I didn't go. I took the day off for sleeping in and shopping for jeans. When I woke up at 11am and checked my inbox I hadn't received a single new email in almost 24 hours. How... 80's.

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So I went to the outlet mall to try and find some jeans. I was surprised to see so many people at clearance stores at the middle of the day, The car park was completely full. Most homosapiens really are scavengers. There are probably some alpha-males out there, hunting and gathering. I'd like to be an alpha-male, I think. It would be better than being a vulture.
Vultures are the bargain hunters of the animal kingdom. I can imagine a mother vulture bringing back scraps of meat to its younglings and saying to the father 'You would not believe how much I got this for! They were just throwing it away.'

My primary goal was to get jeans. My secondary goal, an overarching concept, was to get 90's jeans. I don't really know what would classify jeans as 90's. Bell-Bottoms were the jeans of the 70s. Rivets came in during the 50s. I wasn't supposed to check that out.
In fact, the fashion industry has been distressing jeans by hacking, smashing and scuffing holes in them in the past decade. Trendy, but primitive. Jeans as a technology are going backwards.
I got a pair of Levi's 538s. That was after I tried on a pair of 501s. Jeans have version numbers!
Jeans West did not supply me with a supple pair of Jeans, despite my best efforts. I left their outlet store with several pairs in the "maybe" pile. But I would never see them again.
At the Levi outlet store, Dimitri helped me choose a new pair of jeans. And flirted the shit out of me. I suspected he was gay once he'd placed his hand on my arm and laughed when I'd told a crappy joke, about jeans having version numbers. He continued to hit on me, but I endured it as a road to scoring a good pair of jeans. I tried on five pairs before buying the jeans he recommended me. They were button fly. So I now have jeans that have extra buttons. It's oxymoronic, the button fly was invented before the zip. As jean technology increased the number of buttons decreased. And now here I was wearing 90's jeans loaded with buttons. Jeans transcend generations.
Dimitri gave me his number and said if I ever felt like going shopping I should call him. I don't think I will call him, but I probably did enjoy the confidence boost of being hit on by a gay dude maybe a little too much. I don't think he could spot me, benching 70kg. Oh God, does that mean I'm thinking about it!? Also he drives a beat up VL Commodore. Selling distressed jeans from a distressed car, that's fine but I'm looking for something classier. I've still got his number. Did people have mobiles in the 90s?

Life as Nouns as Verbs

Words that I use regularly, but didn't exist in 1995

  • Google
  • LOL
  • youtube
  • bradism
  • iPod
  • SexyBack

Too Much Music to Make Entries

Someone give me a concept, theme or idea for how I should live my life next month and I will use it for August.


I've made a vow to cut swearing out of my vocabulary, following the last weekend, which was completely satisfying. However one of the main things I picked up across each day was how fluidly swearing occurred from everyone I met and how completely illiterate it made them sound. Swearing is so functionally versatile in its use that it is simple to replace vast portions of sentences with a curse. In effect it's murdering the English language at its very core. I know it must seem ironic for me to dismay about a decreasing use of the English language considering I have hardly posted in three weeks, but this is where I am restarting this fledgling publication and I'm not really concerned what you think of the idea.

I'm not fucking swearing anymore, following the last weekend, which was a fucking blast. However one of the main things I picked up each fucking day was how every cunt I met talked complete shit. Swearing is so fucking versatile in its use that it is simple as fuck to replace words or even fucking sentences with a cunt, fuck or shit. It's fucking the English language right up the cunt. I know I must seem a right cunt to give a shit about the fucking up of the English language when I have posted shit all in three weeks, but fuck it. I am restarting this cunt. So fuck you.

1. Fuck
2. Shit
3. Cunt

Examples from the weekend:
I'm totally 1ed.
I'm completely tired
I've consumed too much alcohol

That 1ing 3 just 1ed 2 up big time!
The drummer just broke his cymbal!

Get 1ed
I don't believe you

Chuck me that 3
Can you please pass me my towel?

1 it
I'm going to stay in bed for another 15 minutes

2, I dropped the 3 out of this 1ing... thing.
Unfortunately I have dropped the curried portion of my curried egg on the ground.

Note: It is interesting to observe that four days of not swearing I have already begun to lose my ability to swear properly, as evidenced in those poor examples.

Less Words, More Pictures

Kind of sick today. Woke up with the sore throat effect. Once at 5am and again at 7:45. Felt sorry for myself and felt worse, realised maybe self fulfilling prophecy was in effect and concentrated on feeling better, then felt better. By the end of work though feeling pretty run down. I don't really care. Reasoning that I spent every day between May 14th and Splendour analysing each cough, tickle and throb for potential festival ruining illness. Remarkably I haven't fallen ill once this year - despite consuming 3 packets of Strepsils 'First Sign of a Cold' lozenges in that time. Good work immune system, we pals.

So I'm putting myself to bed now and instead of writing a lot I will post four thousand words worth of pictures from Splendour.

Almost an accumulated 2,000kms from home, finally at Byron.

Almost an accumulated 2,000kms from home, finally at Byron.

Lost Valentinos.

Lost Valentinos.

Bloc Party.

Bloc Party.

Arctic Monkeys.

Arctic Monkeys.

Proof that if you take 163 photos at least a handful have to come out alright.

My Review of "Sumo Salad"

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A few weeks ago when I was at work Tim suggested that I review the first Sumo Salad outlet to open in South Australia. I dismissed the idea out of hand, primarily because I didn't come up with it and I'm reasonably egotistical.

Then, when today was teetering on the brink of lunchtime I was asked by co-workers if I would be attending the company BBQ across the river. I was taken aback as I hadn't heard anything about a free BBQ. It turned out that I was still being ignored by the Level 9 mailing list. Then, when I asked if they thought there would be wholemeal bread at the BBQ in an attempt at Friday banter I was laughed at for being a diet girl and at this stage I decided I didn't need them or their stupid BBQ or mailing list. I scoffed that I was going off for salad, left them and headed off to Myer Centre, Rundle Mall for a review of Sumo Salad and a guaranteed comment from Tim when I was done.

The first great thing I noticed about Sumo Salad was its location, squat over where "Spuds" had been before it went out of business, probably because the woman there that looked like a potato ate them into debt.

Sumo Salad advertises themselves with the slogan "Eat Big, Stay Thin" and, being an unashamed diet girl I was please to finally note a place in the food court that was serving healthy food and that wasn't jealously guarded by a giant sandwich. Predictably all the fat people were at the KFC and McDonalds on either side of it, leaving just me and thin girls getting salads. I thought that one girl was fat but she was just up the duff.

I chose the Thai Beef salad, which was advertised as having the least fat of all the Sumo Salads. According to the nutritional information which is provided for all of them it was 3.2g of Fat (50% saturated) for the 450g salad. It also came with three kinds of lettuce which I figured would shove it up all my meat loving co-workers who were probably literally plumping in the sun at this time on carcinogen-rich burnt sausages.

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The salad was denser than it appeared, which was good because what seemed to be just a box of lettuce gave the impression it would provide just enough carbohydrates for the energy needed to open and eat it. Deeper in though there was cucumber, capsicum, red onions, other stuff and beef. All drizzled with a tangy zest, slightly less bitter than I was today. Based on this my main complaint was that it could have been tossed more, half because all the lettuce was at the top and half because I liked the idea of going back up to the servertress and asking her to toss my salad. I think she liked me, she smiled when I ordered and gave me a complimentary bread roll which I choose to take literally.

While it tasted good, the meal cost $8.95 for what was really Wok in a Box left uncooked. So as I left I set my timer to count just how long I would actually remain satisfied. I was cynically prepared, but I did stay unhungry for three hours which is my standard after lunch. So I was pretty much left with nothing to complain about to Tim, except for the disappointing lack of actual sumo present. I saw only three.

The Detroits

Put your hands up if you've seen Fedde Le Grand. I have, during the waning of summer at Future Sounds when 2006's grungy house classic 'Detroit' was being eclipsed by 2007's 'The Creeps'. I caught a few tracks of his set, and it became very clear which songs were his productions because they all seemed to dip heavily from the same well.

But this was Future Sounds, which finished with a set from Ferry Corsten, so an observation like 'most dance music sounds the same' would have been an understatement on the obvious. However, in the months following as The Creeps began developing mainstream rotation and approval I thought back to that day.
The Creeps is a good track, undoubtedly. The addition of Camille Jones' vocals and the occasional sound like you've picked up an emerald in a SNES classic certainly add something to it. But add something to what, exactly. Probably 'Put your hands up for Detroit'. Once I'd seen that the dancing to The Creeps involves the same steps as Detroit I decided it was time to bring out the wheels of steel and show how similar these songs are.

This isn't a moral crusade, I'm just trying to elevate my own production status to one where I too can spend my days manipulating sexy, secretarial bodies. At least it makes for efficient listening.


It wasn't feeling hungry that had brought Dale to the kitchenette. It was more the opposite; a lack of feelings had subconsciously dragged him from sitting as his desk waiting for something to feel about, to the kitchenette waiting for his noodles to microwave. Dale had decided that feeling full of Thai was superior to being empty.

The microwave was perched on the top of Level 8 West's fridge, which was nestled in the corner of the nooky alcove that was the source of so many coffees. Like a TV in a surgery waiting room the spinning SupperWare seemed to draw the attention of all who visited. Dale was leant against the wall and meditating on the radiation that was jostling the particles of his early lunch. Partly this was to support his knee, which still aching from the midnight run last night. Dale had concocted a passive-aggressive fitness strategy to impress Bry, deducing - after several emails from her consisting mostly of cat pictures - that they may not be able to connect on an intellectual level after all.

Dale's wall support was also to add to his nonchalance, which was protecting him from engaging too heavily in small talk with other Level 8 West citizens. Despite spending enough months at his current corporate coordinates and altitude that his youth was blurring into a single grey memory, the kitchenette was one of the only bubbles of sociability he faced. The toilet and lifts were the others. Within his pod of cubicles I knew Dale had familiarities ranging from 'good morning' and 'good night's; to hopes, dreams and jokes about shirking companies policies. But beyond that the people of the office blended into an indiscernible sea of general informality. If I presented Dale with a familiar face he could only pick with a little over twenty percent accuracy whether he knew them from working with them every day or catching the same train home every night. This was inflated somewhat by the fact that more than a handful of candidates did both.

One such candidate, Dale noticed, was hovering in his peripheral with an empty coffee mug. There was a brief moment of eye-contact, before she said 'Sorry' in a polished English accent and moved past Dale to the sink which was at least three feet away from either of them. Dale continued to watch his noodles counting down. He'd chosen the lowest heat setting the microwave had to offer – which its smudged control panel recommended for 'Dessert Fruits; Babies Milk' – along with the ten minute button, and set himself for an unstimulating yet pressure-less break from reality. Dassie, who was either part of the PEDS team or a Kings Station commuter, was not the first to break his dips into alpha sleep visions. Prior to her Dale had already seen the steps of three hesitant dance displays as partnered performers turned and swayed between the fridge, the instant coffee and the kettle in straining, choreographed politeness. There'd also been two nervous fumblings during the filling of water bottles, and he'd answered four rhetorical questions, the most interesting one about the conspiracy behind there never being any skim milk. Dale agreed something was definitely not above board.

Though when the microwave finally chimed Dale was alone. He pulled his noodles, a vegetable ratio that left only a hint of chicken (he hoped Bry was telepathically impressed), from the carousel, then fished a fork from the kitchenette drawer and, after pouring boiling water from the kettle over the prongs and wiping them dry with Handy-V paper towels, stirred his lunch through with a content smile. Not only was he now one sixth of his hourly rate richer, but he also had five hundred grams of low fat Pad Thai. On the downside he was ten minutes closer to death. Dale figured satisfaction probably wasn't supposed to work like this.

Got a Move On

It was Mr. Scruff I woke up to this morning. Sleep turned funk that filled my car straight after the intense twenty-eight minute triathlon of shaving, showering and breakfast that is my morning. After all that jazz my day dropped into a holding pattern. It wasn't exactly boring, it's more that nothing seemed to happen and it was very quickly 5pm and time to leave the office. I think it was the multiple 30 minute teleconferences I was in today where I said my name at the start and then sat listening for every other second. That's over an hour there where I was essentially just mediating on the problems of the project.

Problems which are minimal, considering the weekend implementation went successfully. Not that I actually contributed any man power during the implementation process. Perhaps that's why I feel a little unstimulated today. You write down a life goal on your door and then end up achieving it effortlessly as other people do the implementation while you're spending the weekend getting drunk in a beach house. Even the train ride home seemed to blur together without interest.

But I knew the trick for when life's feeling blah on a Monday evening. The season finale of Desperate Housewives and a 6 Pack. Rise and shine, week!



The Internet

I was browsing a few Augusts in my journal and I noticed an interesting pattern. Every year, around mid-August I complain about being slightly sick. Well, except for 2005 but I was pretty much invincible that year.
This realisation, and a few insights into the way things have changed between the past few Augusts and caught me in vain appreciation of my journal and the power of its data-mining potential. This Internet is going to follow me everywhere.

Today, as I left the Bakers Delight in Blackwood with a Twisted Delight and two Choc-Mud Scones I passed an open fruit and veg shop filled with wives and the elderly doing their shopping. I overheard the following snippet of conversation, from two housewife sounding voices.


And then once again I was out of earshot and walking into the bright sun and back to my car. I smiled, turned the ignition and drove back to work in my darkened room with my Internet.

Windows Vista needs your permission to continue: "Post Entry"

When I woke up this morning I had the chorus of 'Girls just Wanna have Fun' looping in my head. The last time I heard that song was at least a year or two ago, when I belted it out in some PlayStation karaoke game, so I can't imagine what kind of dream I had early this morning to get it in there.

Today was a good day. At work I managed to get dragged into the busyness vortex that has engulfed the rest of the project team so far this week. My heart beats per minute were up as I pummelled away at my keyboard running queries and investigating defects and helping! It felt good.

I clawed my way out of the vortex around 1pm and arrived belatedly for lunch, so I left there and went to collect my new laptop. I then spent the next four hours of work and two hours of gym tittering in anticipation of getting it home and set up. Five hours of Vista and Symantec difficulties later... I'm going to bed. Hooray laptop.

After I got the laptop Lisa asked me why I got it. She doesn't believe I am a laptop kind of guy?
I said: "Why? Is it because a laptop is so very small and I am so very large?"
That was a part of it, but she actually believed "Laptops are kinda girlie, Brad, and you are very manly."
Well, that just isn't true.
I opened the box at work just for a peek and saw the wittle mouse that comes with it. So Cute! Oh my.

Eclipsed by a Train

23 now and got sunny days for my birthday.
Saw a lunar eclipse tonight; howled. University security guard was not impressed.
24 can blocks of Schweppes and Pepsi varieties are on sale at Woolworths this week for just $6.96. That is just 29c a can! Stock up now for sunny days and cooling down security guards.
'Brad' is the 26,895th most used word in the English language, ranking just below malignancy and just above towelling. 'Sex' is the highest most queried word when it comes to the internet checking the most commonly used words in the English Language.
Four orphaned baby hedgehogs in Hampshire, England now confuse a cleaning brush for their dead mother.

To Do Tomorrow: Investigate if hedgehogs are allowed as pets.

To Do Tomorrow: Investigate if hedgehogs are allowed as pets.

I could probably write for the Herald Sun

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Entry for this day recorded only because it broke the heat record

I was there. It was August, the sun tingled as I stepped from the front door and walked towards my car. I found it easier than normal to control my rage at parents driving slowly and over protecting their children bumbled along in front of me. The walk from my car to the train station was swarmed with flowers, in many different colours. In the train it was hard to look out the window, such was the glare.

To the east, past the city and over the hills, blue sky was being encroached by a blanket of grey. On the west, heading out to sea, thousands of tiny clouds streaked in rows. Like rats deserting a dilapidated warehouse and scurry through the feet of the demolition crew, the clouds fled the atmosphere. By lunch I was buffeted by winds as I tried to make it to Sanity and buy the first season of Weeds with my "thanks for doing a good job, we haven't got the budget for a promotion but here's a gift card" gift card. And then in the second half I had the advantage as I was drifted towards MSY and I purchased my wireless keyboard and mouse. Ways to freak out mother: Pick up keyboard and throw it on bed.

Then, in the style of Adelaide weather and the style of me in the gym lately, things got way to heavy to handle and the hottest August day on record collapsed into pouring rain. Yeah, like that wasn't predictable.

Listen up soldier, face your weak head forward. You see those arms? Tiny! That stomach? Flabby! Those shoulders? Why don't they ache?

Of the many things that Splendour taught me, I most appreciated learning that my back pain could be controlled with dosages of Panadeine 15 and Bundy'n'Cokes. This combination doesn't actually remove the pain itself, nor is it medically recommended, but it does remove the connection from the pain to the brain. And it was then, as I actually enjoyed a set by Operator Please, that I knew I did not need to fear pain anymore.

This was an extremely vital realisation for me. Because, as anyone who has experience chronic back pain will attest, the fear of back pain exceeds the pain itself. This is a mental battle that saps a lot of energy, because every time you move, stretch or make plans you need to consider your back and internally reassure yourself that your back will be ok, every thing's under control.

What this pain killing instance taught me was that, given all the rehabilitation, habit changing and conditioning that I'd gone through in the past 12 months I was now at a stage that I could take extend myself physically and if there was pain I had the power to knock it out. I can't convince you how this has changed me. In the weeks following I have felt new again, like a man who could not walk healed. Then, as the sun began to rise earlier and warm longer and the flowers burst with colour, I realised it was now time to resume my life as it was on July 15, 2006. Because God did I miss that Brad. So, on August 26, a Sunday Evening, I welcomed myself back. With BULKTEMBER. I am one week into my 6 week extreme conditioning and bulking phase that will henceforth be the theme for this publication in the coming month. Testify!


Bulktember is a six week commitment to personal fitness and bulking. This is divided into three areas:

  • Weight Training
  • Eating a Lot
  • Sleeping a Lot

Going to the gym is something that a lot of people participate in, but few rarely commit to. For good reason, as the time and lifestyle commitments required are rich.

However I believe that a few key periods of bulking, interspersed between much longer periods of maintenance, can achieve worthwhile results. The first of these periods for me is BULKTEMBER, which is taking precedence over almost every other issue in my life for the six weeks between August 27 and October 6 2007.

What is involved
Five sessions per week of high intensity weight lifting, with varying programs. Three upper body, two lower body plus core.
Eating my target weight multiplied by 2.3 grams of protein per day, in six healthy meals. This is an easy part.

Sleeping eight hours per night, to allow juicy growth hormones to flood through my body and stimulate muscle development.

The sleep part is particularly easy due to being quite knackered by the end of a week of weight lifting every day.

BULKTEMBER also comes with it's own range of stretches, supplements and techniques which I will allude to in depth later.

The final note for today, BULKTEMBER can not be whispered or said quietly, it must always be yelled. This is scientifically proven to improve the bulking process.


Weight lifting regimes are one important part of BULKTEMBER, but eating is its equal. Not only does food have to be shovelled down every two to three hours, but it has to be healthy, flavoursome and with a solid balance of carbohydrates, protein and good fats.
Trying to cater for forty-two meals a week can be a tough ask, and that's why it's beneficial to make one super meal once that can be eaten throughout the week. This week's Super Lunch: Spaghetti BULKOGNESE!
First I shall step you through the ingredients.

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Lean Mince. 550g. .50 [Special]. Lean Beef and other lean and white meats are a key ingredient in muscle building. Eat another animals muscle to build your own. The advantage of lean meats is less fat, obviously. I like to write my name on my beef.
San Remo Wholemeal Pasta – Spirals. .98. Whole foods contain more protein than processed foods, and with a lower G.I. as well, meaning the energy from the food will sustain you over a longer period. I used spirals instead of spaghetti because I already had this meal last week and some variety is good.
Generic Spices – FREE. We have Italian Seasoning, Oregano and Mixed Herbs which I think contains more Oregano. Herbs enhance the flavour and don't really have any health benefits.
Garlic – FREE. Garlic is full of antioxidants and contains properties that naturally fights off illness and infection. And it smells great!
1 Capsicum, chopped – 0.80c. Capsicum also contains helpful health properties; it can lower blood pressure and apparently helps reduce back pain!
2 Onions – FREE. Onions are like Garlic.
Olive Oil – FREE. High in monounsaturated oil, and vitamin E. Whenever you cook with oil, make it olive oil. It lowers your cholesterol and helps burn through fat.
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Beans, 400g of Red Kidney Beans and 400g of 5 Bean Mix - .36. Fibre! Protein! Iron! Raw beans are brilliant for you, not only will they bulk this meal up by about 500g (when drained) which saves us money, but they are good for you too. If you don't like them, once the meat and sauce has simmered through you won't even notice them.
Chopped Tomatoes, 800g - .00 [Special]. I highly recommend the latest range of tinned tomatoes from Ardmona, who have released a selection of tomatoes enhanced with different spices and flavours. And I'm talking so enhanced that you could literally sit there and eat the tin straight (this is how I cut my finger last week). The paprika and chilli one is the best. Woolworths have these on a 2 for special all this week.
Tomato Puree, 400g - .09. This will assist with the base of your sauce, being runnier than the chopped tomatoes. With the tins of tomatoes and the herbs and vegetables you are cutting out the need for Dolmio or any other tomato based pasta sauces, you get twice as much as you would pay for the sauce and you're cutting out a lot of sugar. All tomatoes and other red coloured fruits are loaded with lycopenes, which are world title antioxidant champions twenty centuries running.

A note on brand name versus generic brand tinned vegetables. Woolworths and Coles have both recently rebadged their generic range to include pictures and look higher quality. Do not be fooled; always check the label. The Woolworths Select tomatoes contained much higher levels of sodium (salt, raises blood pressure, decreases life span!) and less protein and energy, indicating more watering down. Alternatively, the Select Beans both outperformed the closest priced Edgell beans, being lower in sodium and higher in protein and complex carbohydrates.

In six weeks I hope to have glutes the size of these saucepans.

In six weeks I hope to have glutes the size of these saucepans.

Whew! With that out the way we can discuss the actual process. Boil four litres of water plus a drip of olive oil and, when it is bubbling, add the pasta. Meanwhile, after chopping the vegetables (you can include celery and mushrooms in those calculations) heat a tablespoon of oil in the frying pan. Once steaming, add a tablespoon of garlic; mince; and a lot of herbs. Then spread this around in the frying pan or saucepan (I used saucepan because my frying pan wasn't deep enough!) until the mince is browned. Add the vegetables and the beans, drained. After 2 minutes add the three tins of tomatoes, then two minutes later cover and simmer, to let the flavours blend. Stir regularly throughout.

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After 10 minutes on low heat and after the pasta has been drained, covered and cooled for five minutes, you may serve. This came up with five meals, which averages out costs to .59 per lunch this week. That is a massive bargain, considering going for a dosage of complex carbohydrates and protein (46g of protein per serving here, 8g more if you add 30g of Parmesan Cheese) from Subway or something would cost you about a day and you'd probably fork out .80 for a Coke Zero as well (which, by the way, I don't recommend).
In fact, I suggest sourcing a carton of Pepsi Max cans from Woolworths when the cans cost 29c each, keeping a couple in the fridge and the rest under your desk.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
"Brad, how am I going to cart a whole case of Pepsi Max cans from the Woolworths in Rundle Mall to my office building? They're too heavy!" Why with your giant, bulky muscles of course. This is what being a spendthrift health fag is about. Alternatively, if this is all too hard, you can just go out for lunch every day and enjoy fatty meals from fryers filled with vegetable oil, similar to what my Step Mum demonstrates here:
Big Wurst makes her happy.

Big Wurst makes her happy.

Today's Awesome Benching Experience

My arms and shoulders were a little sore today from the upper body session last night, where I will note I reached new highs in my chest press, shoulder press and lat-pull down. By the time lunch time arrived today I was stiff from being stationary all morning. However I had a Tupperware container of BULKOGNESE in the fridge, so no reason to leave the office.

It was too sunny to stay in, I decided, and I left to walk in the warmth with no real purpose. I strolled across North Terrace and slowed to a meander as I confronted the river. Overwhelmed by the urge for a nap, I found a place to slouch and closed my eyes, absorbing sunshine blissfully and converting it to alpha sleep. Today was one of those occasions where the sun is purely a source of brightness so long as you keep moving, but once you achieve stillness it's rays wrap relaxing tendrils around your body.

Alas my lunch break was too quickly over and I had to return to my office, which seemed much greyer and more washed out after the blast of natural brightness outside. I spent the afternoon mainly in meetings. Fortunately there was always a window within sight, allowing my eyes to wander and my mind to know that out there, nearby, was today's awesome bench experience.

Lose Weight While You Sleep!

During BULKTEMBER I'm keeping our house's scales next to my bed so I can check my weight progress regularly. All reasonably mundane stuff, but I noticed a phenomena this morning. I woke up two whole kilograms lighter than when I went to bed. This seems like a disturbing amount of weight to lose in a period of doing nothing. I didn't leave the bed the whole night.

Last night wasn't particularly warm, so I hadn't sweat out those kilos. No lucky dreams either, and if there had been I would have been way impressed. It seems I don't have all the answers when it comes to bulking. Nevertheless, I think I will take the opportunity to post my morning and evening weights each entry, for posterity. Despite the fact that building a kilogram of lean muscle would take the best part of a month, and that all fluctuations in weight will most likely be gastric.

Rising Weight: 100.4
Retiring Weight: 101.0

Gym Stats

Days of Consecutive Bulking: 11
Rising Weight: 100.8kg
Retiring Weight: 100.2kg
Light Beers Consumed during BULKTEMBER: 3

Warming to Bulktember

I was rummaging this afternoon, preparing for my tax return (to, you know, bulk up my bank account). During this I came across a piece of paper from the first time I was well enough to visit the gym after my back. On that day I was checking one-rep maxes, on the bench press it was a lady like 47.5kgms. Now two weeks into BULKTEMBER I'm using more than that as my warm up!

This does seem rather bland, but Friday night's binge drinking derailed things a little, so I'm trying to rebuild my weight training mental momentum.

Bulktember 11 – Never Forget

BULKTEMBER: Ruined by Laryngitis? Maybe, but it goes a little deeper than that. Kids, I'm here to tell you about the dangers of Alcohol. In particular, the impact it can have on healthy individuals in the midst of a BULKTEMBER. You may believe the only negative effect of a solid eight hours of imbibing could be left/right imbalance after all those light bicep curl reps, but you are wrong.

Scientifically, alcohol is one of the least productive chemicals that can be put through the human system. There are problems that go beyond the cliché issues you'd expect, such as eating too many gyros; dehydration; and distributing all the protein, carbohydrates and bits of carrot that you were going to be using for recovery between your legs and into a toilet bowl.

The first thing we consider is the production and repair of muscle fibres themselves. Studies have proven that regular alcohol consumption "alters a variety of key regulatory steps in translation initiation that would be expected to impair protein synthesis in skeletal muscle" (Lang, C. Et al 1999). Essentially, if protein synthesis is impaired amino-acids struggle in their quest to form complete proteins, which eventually would form a key cell in your rippling left bicep or telephone-cable strength groin.

Alcohol consumption has also been shown to reduce testosterone production in males, effectively putting a skirt on your body's desire to grow new muscle fibres. This also affects the balance of oestrogen in the body, which reduces libido – cascading into a lack of motivation for bulking up – as well as explains why the majority of unfit, sorry drunks carry bitch-tits wherever they go. However, one study in Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research did show that in certain types of rat testosterone occasionally spiked acutely following the administration of alcohol (Diamond, I., de Wit, H. 1997). But even if you are a rat person, this isn't greatly beneficial in regards to weight training.

You can't weight train while drunk. Alcohol and B Vitamins don't get along nicely, and as each drink dissolves throughout your bloodstream is nukes B Vitamins as it goes. This cripples your strength, energy and endurance. No vitamins and minerals are spared by alcohol. What's worse, all nutrient processing that occurs in alcohols presence is hampered. The American National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism has been banging on about this for years. Alcohol's effects include:

  • The pancreas decreases the secretion of digestive enzymes;
  • Cells lining the stomach and intestines are damaged, impairing absorption of nutrients;
  • The presence of alcohol can also prevent transport of some nutrients into the bloodstream completely (NIAAA 1993)

Meaning that drinking in excess within the 36 hour window after weight training when your body is repairing is in part wasting your workout.

And, finally, the conclusion you come to when you realise all the crucial vitamins, minerals and anti-oxidants have gone missing from your body at the same time as your energy levels crash and you're completely dehydrated is that you're a World Trade Centre just waiting for bacteria and viruses to crash into you and topple you into an anti-BULKTEMBER heap. This is the reason I'm sitting here with a course of Penicillin which, in its tablet form, is incredibly bulky and hard to swallow. I made the mistake of drinking during BULKTEMBER and that is something I will never do again. So whenever you develop a six week bulking plan you should avoid scheduling conflicts with weddings, your birthday or successful software implementation celebrations. This is something I'll never forget.

How to Look Strong in Photos

So being sick makes it hard to tackle BULKTEMBER in an as full on manner I’d hoped. But there are ways to bulk up when you can’t get to the gym. Even you, yes you, can look handsome and strong in your photos from this summer. With beach and BBQ weather flirting with the city already, and the spring bringing with it hundreds of new Facebook accounts and photo albums, here are some BULKTEMBER tips for improving your photo presence. Follow these and you can improve your strength an appearance in seconds, instead of spending hours into the gym and investigating different types of moisturisers.
First, what not to do:

Is this you? Looking washed out; lumpy; and tilting your head to the side like you’re a poof? Do you squint your eyes when you try to fake a smile? Do you think two hours of walking will be better exercise than 15 minutes of intense sprints? When taking a photo remember the following:

Is this you? Looking washed out; lumpy; and tilting your head to the side like you’re a poof? Do you squint your eyes when you try to fake a smile? Do you think two hours of walking will be better exercise than 15 minutes of intense sprints? When taking a photo remember the following:

Stick Your Neck Out. Hold your shoulders back and make an effort to separate your chin from your neck. This keeps your skin looking smoother and prevents the double chin effect. Keeping your shoulders back will smarten up your posture, bring your chest to the forefront and makes it harder to tilt your head. Having your chest forward makes it appear bigger, and perspective wise can bring it a further or inch or two closer to the camera.

Narrow your waist. Which you can do without any exercise. Try breathing a deep breath of air into your lungs, not your stomach. This will inflate your chest, which should be sticking out already, and make your chest appear bigger. The bigger your chest looks, the narrower your waist looks. Pure optical illusion, but it works and is easier than a rowing machine.

Stand facing the light. The photographer should stand with their back to the light source, so it flows over their shoulders and onto you. When the light is behind the subject (facing the lens) it will affect the levels in the photo, washing it out and leaving you and your skin looking muggy.

Thumb your Guns. You might not have the physical strength to even lift the camera, but you can add the impression of bigger arms by crossing them and sticking your thumbs out into your biceps from behind. Brilliant! In the real world it’s difficult for almost all men to develop large arms without having complete upper body strength. It takes about 5kg of body weight per inch on your arms (apparently.) But if you’re wearing a t-shirt and make your biceps look bigger others will automatically assume you’re built all over because they can only see your arms. Of course no one else will know about this illusion because no one else reads this far into long entries.

Don’t fake a Smile. You can look strong as well as jolly, but for all photos a real smile is better than a fake one. Real smiles engage the eyes and cheeks whereas forced ones can leave those areas revealing that you don’t really care about your step-families Sunday dinner. The best way to fake a real smile is to remember something that always makes you laugh, like that Christmas lunch where my little brother landed nads first on an outdoor tap and turned it on trying to untangle himself from it, or that scene in the Simpsons where Homer drops Bart off at the Burlesque house and says: ‘Now you're gonna do chores for that lady until you work off the damage you did. It's called "responsibility."’ Then as he drives off he knocks down the mailbox, screams and drives off.

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Now you’re looking good, and have left only the ethics to consider if you should reveal why you look so healthy when you’ve been in bed most of the week with laryngitis. Or, with even less time in the gym and some time in Photoshop you can enhance yourself even more, in believable ways.

Continue Reading How to Look Strong in Photos...

Farewell Sore Throat

Back to work tomorrow, ending my three consecutive days of wearing track pants.

Bulking so Hard

We lost basketball finals and this made me angry. I considering writing an essay on how the biological process of anger could enhance or reduce weight gaining effectiveness, but I got over it. It turns out anger makes me cook a lot of chicken on the BBQ after pasting it with a delicious seasoning.

So now that there's no basketball it means I have less commitments and more anger to commit to BULKTEMBERing. And given my renewed focus I will now share an important secret of building muscle: eating!

Protein, complex carbohydrates and poly/mono unsaturated fats are the building blocks of a healthy diet. When trying to gain muscle you should be eating over 2.2g of protein per kilogram of your target body weight. My target weight is 104kg, so I am targeting 240g of pure protein per day. Thus, behold my seven meals of protein efficiency:

FoodProtein (g)
0830 Breakfast46.4

1130 Snack 120.4

1330 Lunch56.8

1700 Snack 226.8

1930 Post Gym Intake20

2030 Dinner65

2330 Bedtime Snack8.8

I poo at least twice a day.

I Love Big Bulks and I Cannot Lie

There is a Women's Health magazine now. It's Men's Health, but for women. It's essentially the same but with the sex tips removed and marriage tips replacing them. From what I understand. It's being launched in Australia soon.

This is bad. I feel like Men's Health gives me a gender advantage because unlike most other men's magazines, and all women's magazines, it seems genuinely interested in presenting me with scientifically backed tips. Now women will have this advantage and be healthy and also get strong as well.

Actually, I don't mind this. Bulk on, ladies. Bulk on.


Spaghetti, again. I haven't gotten sick of eating it after four weeks, but I am sick of heating it up in the work microwave inside a tupperware container that barely holds it, and flicking sauce on my white business shirts every lunch time. I have to schedule all my client facing meetings before 1pm so that I don't ever go into a negotiation wearing blotches of tomato sauce. It makes me so angry!
Also, there is no Parmesan cheese at work, which means I am getting 4.4g less protein per day than I scheduled. Worse, today I needed 42 almonds to constitute 50g and satisfy my mid-morning requirements for mono-unsaturated fat and selenium but I only had 37. THIRTY-SEVEN! Argh!

Testosterone based bulking rage spiraling out of control!

Brad's BULKTEMBER Guide to Supplements

In the days of Ancient Rome it was possible to be buff, cut and still hold down a full time job. This was because most jobs involved heavy lifting and there was no such thing as Cheese Supreme Doritos. Nowadays we have desk jobs and trans fats, but we also have science! That means your bulking can be improved through chemistry. There are hundreds of products available which, when used with an exemplary bulking plan, can result in better and bigger gains. I don't have any scientific or medical training but I can write some paragraphs about the stuff I put in my body today.



Creatine helps your muscles recover faster, meaning after you finish a heavy set they'll regroup faster for the next one. This means you can lit more. Creatine occurs naturally in the body but not in the levels you'll need to pay $62 per tub for. I mix mine with equal parts water and orange juice. Unlike other supplements it's tastes quite nice. It should be taken on days when you lift, once in the morning and once an hour prior to training. There is also what's called a "loading period" where you take it four times a day for five days. Creatine powder contains a few B-Vitamins and also Taurine and during the days I was loading I had ridiculous amounts of energy and my heart beat quite fast a lot. It made me quite extroverted.
Omega 3.

Omega 3.

Fish Oil contains Omega 3 which most of the nutritional world has a hard on for these days. I take it because it lowers cholesterol absorption, eases joint wear and can improve memory and alertness apparently. I take it in the morning and afternoon. One of the reasons I take it is because I don't eat fish and this counters that, although everyday around lunchtime I will burp and taste fish oil capsules and go 'ugh'. I also take it because it lowers cholesterol absorption, eases joint wear and can improve memory and alertness apparently.
Boner Pills.

Boner Pills.

Tribulus Terrestris is some random herb that increases the natural level of testosterone in the body. What it basically implies is that if you already have normal testosterone it's as good as eating celery in terms of weight lifting. Fortunately it's very cheap and whether or not it does provide any benefit is moot because it's only about 20c a day for the capsules you take. Boner levels while on Tribulus Terrestris are also the same as without it. This is scientifically proven; for the first few months I kept a spreadsheet.
Whey Protein Isolate.

Whey Protein Isolate.

Whey Protein Isolate is the big brother of Whey Protein Concentrate, which you can get cheaply at pharmacies but is much less effective. WPI is also quite affordable when you buy it on special in giant buckets. I got this one last October and its still going strong. It will probably last me until next October or at least sometime during BULKPRIL. I add a big scoop to my breakfast smoothie and I also use it after gyms if I run out of emergency Up&Go's in my glovebox.
Milo Cereal.

Milo Cereal.

If I eat it before I go to the gym I can lift more weights and every time I burp it tastes like chocolate. Then I can skateboard home.

Post-BULKTEMBER Checklist

With it almost reaching the start of October - obvious what with all the rain - it means BULKTEMBER is also coming to an end. Officially that conclusion is October 6 as it is a struggle to fit a six week plan into weak and skinny September.
Nevertheless, that day is approaching quickly and it's time to start thinking about what needs to be done following that last gym session and final Up&Go Energize.

  • One week off weights, to allow my body to recover
  • Shower
  • Yell really loudly for a moment
  • Take "after" photos
  • Come up with new journal theme for next month (POOLTober? Beachvember?)
  • Rescue an old lady's cat, receive an apple pie as a reward and be shown on the news shirtless and tanned.

I can't wait!

I am Strong Because My Journal is Strong

There were free drinks at work tonight, from 4:30 until late. I didn't go. I wanted to go! I went to the gym instead, taking advantage of the early minute. There I worked out. I chose the gym over drinking because I am committed to BULKTEMBER. I'm mainly committed to BULKTEMBER because I've been journaling about it a lot.

Way to go, Journal.

ALSO! Click ads! I am very close to the payment threshold!

Morning Workouts vs Evening Workouts

A lot has been written about the benefits of exercise in the morning compared to the evening. It's all very scientific but usually comes out equal. I worked out in the morning today, because it is Labour Day tomorrow which means I can't labour tomorrow or even tonight because the gym closes earlier.

Physiological Benefits of working out in the morning include:
Don't feel so bad about yawning a lot at the gym.
It's more acceptable to eat pre-gym cereal in the morning.
Only have to shower once per day.
Don't have to watch Today Tonight when cooling down in the cardio space.

Makes it harder to come up with lists later in the day.

Week 6

BULKTEMBER is now into its final week, but it's not the weak's getting bigger. During the long weekend I got to apply strength to real world situations. Rural situations. I got lost throughout the Adelaide Hills several times on my way to help Craig and Anne move furniture from a farm to their new place.
After using my six pack to move a couch and bed, I was rewarded with a six pack, not of beer but of farm eggs. I applied delicious farm protein today. I had four toad in the holes. I am dangerously out of BULKTEMBER information to share.

Oh My God

So we went to play Lock On at a primary school tonight. I did legs and core in the gym after work so jogging around got a bit wobbly, especially up hills.
At one stage I was hiding up in a playground and I felt the urge to try an overhand chin up. I did two.

I've never done a chin up before. My back's never been strong enough to lift all 100kg of me into the air. I did it twice.
It was my dream to be able to do a chin up after BULKTEMBER, one I fancied so little of achieving I didn't even mention it in the beginning. Needless to say, I am chuffed.

I did 5 Chin-Ups Today

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you want to BULKTEMBER UP, this is especially true. But in this age of desk jobs and cheese supreme Doritos who really has time to make a healthy breakfast every day? You, that's who! With the power of your blender and Brad's BULKTEMBER guide to Breakfast Smoothies.

A Breakfast Smoothie is a quick and easy way of getting a solid breakfast inside you in under seven minutes! If you've ever seen the healthy food pyramid on the side of a box of cereal, you will essentially be building one of those in your stomach.

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The ingredients for most of the year are:

  • 6 Ice Cubes
  • 50g Mixed Berries
  • 3.5 Weet Bix
  • 200ml Skim Milk
  • 150g No Fat, Low Sugar Yogurt
  • 30g WPI Protein Supplement
  • 1tsp Natural Peanut Butter

In Summer it is nice to make it more seasonal: add tropical fruits instead of berries and substitute extra protein powder and honey for the peanut butter.
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First, grind the hard things into powder for 15 seconds on crush. I don't have time to get 50g of berries out to defrost each night, so I add them in with the ice to be ground into frosty paste. The ice is great because it cools the whole smoothie down allowing faster consumption.
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Add the milk evenly between the blender jug and the Weet Bix which you will crush and put in a bowl. microwave this for 30 seconds to make them soggy. While microwaving add the yogurt, protein mix and peanut butter to the blender.

BULKY FACT: The Difference Between Natural and Regular Peanut Butter
There isn't much difference between regular peanut butter and the natural kind that you find in the health food section of supermarkets. Natural is 100% crushed peanuts. When corporations get their hands on it they add some extra sugar and just a slight dose of partially hydrogenated vegetable oil - otherwise known as trans fat. You know, that chemically engineered fat that the human body can't break down and leads to coronary heart disease? Why add this deadly killer to peanut butter? Because it helps the oil bind more naturally throughout the product. If you buy natural peanut butter you'll have to stir, but your arteries will say it's worth it in your sixties.

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By now the microwave will have chimed, so bring the Weet Bix back and serve into the jug using the same spoon you used to stir and scoop the peanut butter (this saves on washing!). Finally, scrape the ice and berries from the sides of the jug into the warm mix below, then stir. Put the lid on and blend with liquefy for 60 seconds. This will purée your breakfast nicely and give you enough time to put all the ingredients away.
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I have started keeping the card from each box of Weet Bix on the top of the window frame in our kitchen, just above my blender. Each image of a successful and bulky athlete motivates every morning. Also it is just too high for mum to reach and take them down. The photo of pandas isn't from Weet Bix, it's actually to a postcard written by the Oma and Opa of whoever lived at this house twenty years ago. They're in China this week and they had bamboo for lunch. Smoothies are better than bamboo.
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Slam your breakfast smoothie down like a man; cups are for girls. This also saves on washing up and keeps breakfast under your seven minute time limit. Rinse the jug to stop Weet Bix from baking on, then run to the station to catch your train. Use the time you save to sleep an extra five minutes and enjoy the extra boost of somatotropin that will be released during your period of unconsciousness.

Puns and Other Plays on Words

Festivals more like Stresstivals
Back Pain more like Comes Back Pain
ohshit.php more like Journal.php

Will pay top dollar for time. Woke up at 1300 today.

Koalas are stalking me

Electionism 2007

So, dear readers, BULKTEMBER has come to an end and you are all rippling with muscle, carrying extra shopping from the car each trip and walking slower past mirrors. Congratulations. Being healthy is important. In fact, Health is a major issue in the upcoming Federal Election, being held November 24th 2007.

Australians, you have forty days to decide who you will be voting for. In the next forty days I am going to be investigating and probing into the seedy world of politics. Learning about policies and processes and offering only the facts. Together with the internet I'm going to figure out who to vote for.

Once, at a party, I claimed to be a young liberal and ended up getting a lot of attention from anti-Voluntary Student Unionism hippy chicks (and hey, any attention is good attention). This shows that politics is a passion for many saucy ladies, and it's the kind of fiery passion that can spill into a more physical expression. There are so many hot chicks out there who just love politics.

In the short term, and this is important, be aware that enrollment for voting closes soon and if you are not enrolled - or have changed your address - you may be ineligible to vote.

Simply use this website to verify your enrolment status.

If you aren't enrolled there are simple steps to take. Continue Reading Electionism 2007 - Am I Enroled to Vote?...

Newspoll has Labor With Strong Lead's coverage of the 2007 Australian Election continues today with a discussion of the Election Issues. The Australian yesterday published the results of the latest Newspoll which shows a Labor government liked by 56% on a two-party preferred system (or at 1.47 to the Libs 2.70 on But what is it that motivates this 8.8% swing in preferences since the 2004 election? Something has changed the answers of these 108.59 people, and it probably isn't just an attempt to create value before putting a multi on the Liberal Party to win majority plus Petter Dutton to win the seat of Dickson in South-East Queensland on Betfair.

People are voting about the issues they're concerned about. According to Newspoll the major issues in 2007 are Health & Medicare; Education; and - during summer particularly - Water Planning. Industrial Relations were only rated 'Very Important' by only 46% of those surveyed in June 2007. Given all the results, it has to be asked, who the fuck are Newspoll? And why are we worrying so much and putting so much trust in what they have to say?

Newspoll was established by News Corp in 1985 in a partnership with what is now Millard Brown, an international research company. Newspoll is primarily used by News Corp's The Australian for poll statistics. Keeping in mind this is the same News Corp owned by Robert Murdoch that also owns Fox News in the USA which controversially covered the Iraq invasion of 2003 without mentioning the opposition to the war at home nor possible lack of WMDs. However no one in News Corp seems to have anything to gain from rigging Newspoll election surveys as far as I can tell, or at least determine in the space of a journal entry. Unless they had a double header on Hindmarsh and Adelaide both swinging... Unlikely, Newspoll has been proven accurate in the past at least once. Though that could have been a fluke... But there's no need to worry a Newspoll online survey of just over a thousand participants found that 89% considered Newspoll 'Very trustworthy'. And hopefully at least half of them weren't Murdoch advocated MySpace bots...

Tomorrow's 2007 Australian Election coverage continues with another attempt to dig a hole and turn up something interesting or controversial somewhere in this prairie dogged political landscape.

More Biting Political Satire...

This time fortunately not from me. Funnymakers from the Axis of Awesome managed to get their John Howard/Kevin Rudd rap battle on the media section of the Sydney Morning Herald. Though it won't exactly help in making your mind up in regards to who you vote for, it is definitely chuckle worthy.

Firefox users might need to use ieTab due to Adblock.


Seeing no one cares about the election, maybe someone cares about my old car.

Car... :'(

But Seriously, Would you vote for this man?

If my Life was a TV Show

If my life was a TV show, it would be a Reality TV show. Now, sometimes (like BULKTEMBER) it's like The Biggest Loser or any other of those edutainment shows where you are entertained while occasionally learning something about Trans Fats. However, most of the time, if my life was to be a TV show, it would be one of those concentrated self indulgent series like The Osbournes or The Simple Life where viewers would simply take interest and joy in my movements and maybe learn a lesson in the end.
I think this year has been the hardest to journal ever. Not for any personal reasons, it's just that the internet has been creeping further and further into real lives over the six years I've been journaling and all of a sudden you realize wait, wait, wait... I am like in all these social networks that are reading this right now. Back in 2001 I couldn't pay anyone to read my Summer Journal and its non-WC3 compliant HTML formatted entries. But now I can meet someone on the street, tell them my name and within half a minute they can Google me on their (fucking) phone and have access to a library of all the observations I've made since high school.
You see, internet, it's like this. You want attention, but you also want privacy. You don't want that chick you met on the dance floor to have immediate access to how many times you said “Pull My Finger” last camping trip, but you also want every second internet viewer to read and leave comments about how you maybe used bananas and rock-melon in your breakfast smoothie instead of forest berries on some random Tuesday morning. So, 2007 has seen the comeuppance of the epic battle between narcissism and insecurity. And overall I think insecurity is winning because I'm just not writing what I'm thinking on the internet as much as I could. I mean, damn it, I'm paying almost $12 US a year to own this domain, and yet all I've done recently is spool YouTube videos or at the least link to accessible viral marketing campaigns.
I believe what I'm trying to say is, come a century when I'm either dead or existing as some sort of cerebellum powered hologram in a national museum for tall, creative types I have to ask myself what did I really care about and what do I regret not publishing on the internet? Sure, there are hundreds of colleagues and classmates and ex-girlfriends and future ex-girlfriends who might see this website as a tool for manipulating me (and by that I obviously mean learning about me and threatening me with the power to get close to me). But, a journal, like almost everything in life, is not worthwhile doing half-heartedly. And if the Writers Guild of America is going to strike and the world needs more reality entertainment maybe it's time to remount the keyboard and get kinky with myself. Time to get real.

I Had a Eureka Moment Tonight

It was at public speaking class. Public speaking class is where they make you stand up every week and deliver a speech that you're suppose to prepare over the week. Except in true high school style everyone just pushes something out the night before. And most of these people are mid-level executive types at the higher end of the corporation chain. God, nothing defines humanity like procrastination.

Anyway: seeing that public speaking is mainly about confidence and people are usually afraid of speaking mainly because they're nervous, this class - from what I've deduced - exists primarily to sugar coat a couple of recommendations each week in a giant tablespoon of compliments and praise about how good a speech was even if it was completely terrible. My theory is that two months of reinforcing to people that their public speaking is good will inevitably give them false confidence, which will lead to less nervousness. So it's just a big placebo to help them up to the next rung on the corporate ladder. Boring. Fake it til you make it jazz.

Those who know me would know that, particularly in front of a group, I don't lack the confidence to try and lasso everyone's attention and keep it with average-to-good tales and impromptu comedy stylings. So I don't really need feel goodisms about my speaking. I need cold hard coaching to turn me into the kind of powerful, dynamic motivator that can command a room.

Every week I would turn up, make a speech and despite in my head thinking I had the ability to appear as a powerful, collected speaker. But after each speech I always felt blunter than I should be. After tonight's effort I felt the same way. Shortly after I returned to the podium to hash a few points of evaluation of another speaker, mainly about improving his vocal variety and everything clicked. Faking it 'til you make it needs to be performed, or faked, in gross of what you're actually trying to make! So when I went up to demonstrate how he should have yelled here, or been more Irish there, I was bellowing. I was t'beshure-ing like a leprechaun. The result: the inevitable numbing of my public appearance dimmed everything down to a dynamic, powerful presentation that made me surge with confidence. After I finished and sat down I realised that this is how you I should be communicating with everyone. I need to be triple coated with confidence and strength so that any awkwardness or lack of clarity is sandblasted away.

Obviously I'm not a expert at this yet, and my technique still needs honing, but I feel now that I'm in a new echelon of communicating. I also feel like I shouldn't have yelled so enthusiastically at the Indian guy in the Caltex on the way home when I bought my chocolate milk. Nevertheless, I'm practicing at new difficulty level.

Apples and Sunlight

Today's theme was Apples and Sunlight, because it was both of these which gave me energy today.
I slept dead last night. I remember setting Atomic Alarm Clock to play INXS's Don't Lose Your Head and the next thing I know I'm waking up to it. This morning, like most mornings, I say to myself 'I have to remember to Google "pins-and-needles in hands when waking" today'. Then I used those hands to pull my curtain open and took a big hit off nature's vitamin-D bong.

After showering and speeding to the train station I shifted into a seat by the window. I drank a Creatine-Phosphagen supplement before showering earlier so I gently charged as I read my book. As of last week I have decided my company's dress policy is relaxed enough to get away with having the top two buttons undone. The murky train windows still let some light filter onto my white skin.

During morning tea I was eating my apple and I remembered to Google pins-and-needles in my hands but nothing seemed too threatening. So I read random people's Melbourne Cup tips and by the time I'd got to the core I had a few bets worth putting on. I won 18.90 overall. Chuffed with a day of work enhanced by gambling I spent my winnings on reduced-price Mother energy drinks and caught the train to the gym. The natural, carbonated apple juice in my digestive system, I set about an hour of throwing weights around and left feeling reasonably satisfied. As I departed the gym around 8pm I was appreciative of the sunlight that was still warm on my cooling body. In my car I ate two more apples, because they're cheaper than Up&GO's and I read that they help neutralise free radicals that build up during weight lifting. Also I just really like apples lately. My car really smells a lot like apples.

At the gym there was a girl wearing the shortest shorts I've seen this spring. There were round little bits of bum poking out the bottom of each side. God Damn. She was on the treadmill in front of my exercise bike, running. I almost caught up. I rode more kilometers in a warm up than I'd ever done before. She had the best apple of the day.

When the truth is MIA

In February 2006 I saw M.I.A. live in a boiler room of the Big Day Out and I cried. I fucking cried. Sure, to get to her set I had to cut short the vomiting I was doing in a port-a-loo toilet trailer caused by drinking a whole bottle of Jacks before 2pm but there was something about these lyrics (that I'd Googled earlier) that just spoke to me. A tale of liberation – at the cost of sibling's freedom – during Sunshowers crooned out over bouncy dance floor beats was sure to juxtapose a few tears when combined with a douse of whiskey. Even sober I loved M.I.A. During a summer where I spent all my time stressing about programming 60 hours a week for twelve dollars an hour it was enjoyable to hear uplifting songs that also conveyed that, all things considered, there were bigger issues in the world and by supporting Sri Lankan divas like M.I.A. I was making a difference globally whilst only acting and dancing locally.

Eighteen months later, as corporate jade-ism took hold and underpaid contracts were archived I was still excited about the release of Kala, the follow up to Arular (which was number twelve on my albums of the year in 2005). Upon first listen things seemed good. The album was poppy and upbeat, with the same raw, tribal feel of Arular. However on repeated listens it did seem like some of that passion might have herniated through the funk, gradually wearing through those Hip-Hop beats in the months since 2005 to prolapse through in certain songs; songs like Boyz. I wanted that song to mean something. I wanted it to be about reigning testosterone being the cause of global wars or something subtle yet powerful; a track like Amazon was on Arular. Anything global would have done, really. Anything with more meaning than just paying tribute to dance-moves from Jamaica. Fair enough I guess, but tributes seem to be a recurring theme in Kala. Take, for example, the single Jimmy, which is less than a tribute to anything and more just a blatant rip-off of a Bollywood classic of the 80's!

Alright, so M.I.A. is hardly unique in having a long list of samples and "influences" for an album. Sometimes artists take liberties, pay for samples and even base careers on this skill. Like Daft Punk! No one begrudges them for shit like this:

But Continue Reading M.I.A - Kala...

I need about 10 more clicks for moneys

I need about 10 more ad clicks to get to my $100 goal and get my first cheque. Click ads, team! Learn about breakfast cereals and diets and the election and Hilltop Hoods while at the same time! EVERYBODY WINS!

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You might not comment at all, but you do click ads. Only $1.15 to go!


Live at Adelaide Entertainment Centre, Nov 14 2007

UK rockers Muse have a fascination with the cosmos. They are also currently touring their fourth album Black Holes and Revelations which itself has a distinct planetarium theme. For eight years they have honed an apocalyptical rock sound built on riffs with the same dark, massiveness of a night sky. It's their trademark canvas, one they populate with planet shaking drums and synthesizers that streak like meteors between the constantly twinkling piano-key stars.

During their live show this galactic theme is on display and super-enhanced with hundreds of lights, lasers and projections – as well as the occasional giant balloon full of confetti. As the lights first go down you can see the outlines of vast light arrays built into every spare surface on the stage. There are lasers in the drum kit. Etched into the lid of the grand piano on stage left are banks of LEDs quietly powering up. The only noise is of the crowd stirring as the band walks through darkness onto the stage. Suddenly, a swirl of fluorescent glows pulse from a plasma display on a floating guitar. The crowd erupts. Muse will now be sending you into space.

The set launches with Take a Bow. Its rumbling chords pierce the shadows of the auditorium and steadily grow louder. Within ground control instruments are being checked and re-checked. Synthesizer sputter and then spiral into ignition and with a blinding blast of light and sound the room shakes as the crowd loses contact with the ground.

With no effort every patron has come under the control of guitarist and lead singer Matt Bellamy. The energy of thousands fuels the rocketing entertainment centre through a superbly balanced collection of Muse's latest album's singles and the best tracks from their earlier albums. Adelaide is particularly lucky tonight, Citizen Erased has rarely been played during the last few years but its opening riffs come in hot after last year's chart topper Supermassive Black Hole.

After six high energy tracks we have now officially left the Earth behind. The slower Ruled by Secrecy is piano heavy and Bellamy leaves the guitar to show his skills as a pianist. The cascading keys create a stargazing feel which works as an excellent peak of energy for the first half of the set. The next song is Feeling Good, and its chirpier keyboard lines pulse from the piano lid to light up the stage. It signifies our exit from the exosphere. This contrastingly lighter tune propels us to contentedly soar between the planets and suns, now freed from the clutches of gravity. The crowd all sing along.

Muse could never be accused of playing an intimate show. Their songs are built to be performed live and loud and the rest of the journey through the stars maintains the same energy of the first half. The balance between past albums and new material stays true all evening. Chunky riffs tease the audience between each epic orchestration and the opening bars of every song are greeted by cheers and screams. Dead Star gets the biggest response, plunging the crowd into a dying galaxy complete with the occasional UFO – though most could later be identified as glow sticks or empty beer cups.

After almost a hundred minutes of sound the wailing guitars of Knights of Cydonia finally come to rest, the lasers settle down and the lights go dim. Re-entry to Earth is now disappointingly complete. But Muse is less of a concert than it is an experience, and this is a journey that will be hard to forget.


If you would like to experience or re-visit the Muse show in Adelaide on November 14 2007, a surprisingly high quality bootleg definitely can't be found here.

A good day today

When I woke up the sun had something to say to me. "Fuck You".

By God it was hot, and as I had to run to catch the train after racing it in my car from Blackwood station to Eden Hills. Arriving at work plenty hot and ready for a solid Friday I deduced it was definitely time for the first Smoothycino of the Summer. A delicacy that has increased in price by 17.5%! They jack the price up over winter when you don't notice and then on the first hot day BAM! It was still good though. And a Smoothycino takes thirty minutes and two hands to drink, which I guess you have to spend reading interesting stuff on the net instead of working. Technically they pay for themselves.

A former team reunion lunch aside, the other entertaining portion of work today was using my ghetto phone that I stole from the cubicle over from me. To be plugged into the working jack over the wall the cord did not reach to my desk. So I bolted it up on my partition wall with a complex system of drawing pins and paper-clips:

image 333 from

I was also entertained when I noticed the logo printed on the box of dividers I raise my keyboard up on to make it more ergonomic. Great news, paper dividers were created with recycled paper without dolphins being crushed to death.

Was there risk of that?

Needless to say, it wasn't my most productive day ever.

Needless to say, it wasn't my most productive day ever.

Tonight I decided it was time for the first fan of the summer. So I plugged in the Marble Air and set it up on a turned up carton of Super Dry and put it on Med. Like the price of Smoothycino, the dust on the fan has also gone up over Winter. I am now done coughing and am going to bed.

Toastmasters meeting notes and review:

About 20 people attended the meeting. Knew about half of them from the SpeechCraft courses. Also Peter who did the course was there.
First hour of the meeting was parliamentary meeting agenda discussion which a few people dominated and thought was quite funny while others seemed to find quite dry. It is probably worthwhile learning when to interject with a point of order and second motions, it looks like a good wank.

There was then a break for supper where as usual there was coffee and biscuits except this time there were also sandwiches! I didn't eat any because I couldn't exactly work out was on them, it was like curried egg or just lumpy butter? Wasn't sure, so didn't risk it.

After the break there were a couple of speeches and evaluations, table topics and more evaluations. Then we got to vote on four awards for the night: best speech, best table topic, best evaluation and best overall performance. Then each of the winners got a fair dinkum trophy. But you have to bring it back the next meeting so it can be passed to the next meeting. (If you forget to bring it there's a $2 fine).

There is also a raffle at the start of the night where tickets are 50c each or five for $2. Peter won the raffle and was handed a wrapped up box, but didn't seem that excited. I tried to hang around to see what it was when he opened it but he never did.

Afterward I spoke to Tom about how he was missing next meeting to visit a hypnotist who is training him to also be a hypnotist. It was an interesting subject and Tom didn't seem to rapport with any jokes I made about hypnotism. It was a little bit unsettling.

No evidence of any hidden, evil Freemason like society amongst the most distinguished of the Distinguished Toast Masters. Listened for coded words and watched for secret handshakes too, but didn't notice any. Thought I found a hidden room in the community centre but it was just an old disabled toilet.

Also tonight: the second Big Day Out announcement was awesome.

There Goes My Hero - Darren Lehman

Boof played his last game for SA today and in doing so crushed WA with an epic, magnificent century in a massive run chase.


What can we learn from Boof?
The skill of patience for when you can't get somewhere in life to not give up, and to never drop your head.
The skill of innovativeness, to have the courage to back your ideas or the shots you invented.
The ability to accept responsibility, and to apologise when you are in the wrong. Like when you call some Sri Lankans 'Black Cunts'.
The importance of being fucking awesome and to always make jokes about obvious things to interviewers because no one else will. And to have a the courage to commit to a wife and be faithful even if you are the hottest cricketer in the world who must turn away thousands of women and some men away every day.
Boof - a man of wonderful timing, smart decisions and a sense of grace not usually deserved by stockily built short people. God I love you and I will miss you. Thanks for the fireworks and champagne you brought tonight.

Back on Dry Land

Houseboat 07 is over. This time yesterday I was in a spa stowing two six packs and a bottle of wine in my stomach and wearing a Mankini.

Now after 5 hours sleep and a gradually increasing hangover my head feels like I'm still aboard the rocking waves... I also shaved my week worth of shit facial hair into a sleek shit handlebar mustache.

Happy Sixth Birthday Journal

Houseboat Adventure 2007

On our way to Mannum driven by Gus. Wiser says hi.

On our way to Mannum driven by Gus. Wiser says hi.

Tom is very excited about leaving. Until he remembers he will be doing most of the driving and all of the parking over the next 3 days on account of him having the only boat license.

Tom is very excited about leaving. Until he remembers he will be doing most of the driving and all of the parking over the next 3 days on account of him having the only boat license.

One of many pelicans in Adelaide's source of drinking water. I fed bread to this one.

One of many pelicans in Adelaide's source of drinking water. I fed bread to this one.

Continue Reading Houseboat Adventure 2007...

Brad's Summer Journal 7

Every night where it's 2am and it's still warm enough to be wearing board shorts and thongs is a Summer gift from God.

750 Entries!

It was an unusually overcast summers day, so instead of visiting the beach it was a day for mini golf at Adelaide Shores.

In this photo Josh, Bogus and at the tip of the shaft, Maning. In fact, there did seem to be a recurring theme amongst each hole...

In this photo Josh, Bogus and at the tip of the shaft, Maning. In fact, there did seem to be a recurring theme amongst each hole...

Angus trying to sink a long range putt within the scrotum.

Angus trying to sink a long range putt within the scrotum.

Continue Reading Stories from the Golf...

Mondays - Not a Fan

When I got out of the lift and onto my level this morning the first thing I noticed was a terrible, dry, scratching noise. It was coming from a broken fan in a server rack near the security door to my cubicle farm, and it sure was grating. Normally this would only be a problem when I walked past the door. However seeing as I am still isolated on some random cubicle right near the door while my actual desk is reconstructed it quickly became obvious that this was a noise I would endure all day.

So, still within earshot of this grinding I noticed that my Ghetto Phone looked slightly crooked. And upon reaching my desk and performing further examination I realised that someone had reclaimed the cable. I peered over the fabric wall and over the weekend some has settled on the desk over from me. Then - with their phone line reclaimed - they'd erected a micro barrier over where the cable once stretched by planting the big wooden block that has their name on it on the top of the partition.

I sat and took heavy breaths as I felt the isolation closing in around me. Then I put my headphones on to drown out the sound of the scraping fan and all the phone calls that the newcomer was getting (with Pepe Deluxé). This worked for most of the day. Then, as I was walking past the door with my second coffee of the day at around 3pm I was internally narrating the ghastly sound and I the best simile I could come up with to describe it was 'like a dentists hook scraping over all of your teeth, probing for plaque'.

After thinking that my teeth hurt. I went home shortly after.


Today I did an unassisted overhand chin up for the first time ever. It was surprising.

I also tweaked my profile with Internode to High Speed instead of High Reliability. On High Reliability I was losing linesync at least once a day anyway, so I figured as I already had low reliability I could try High Speed. Then I downloaded the new episode of American Dad at average speed of 712kb/s. As a nerd who five years ago was journaling on a red 56k modem at 4kb/s this sent me into all sorts of sexual appreciation.

It wasn't really an episode of American Dad, RIAA, it was an episode of a Linux ISO.

Alive with Christmas Spirit

Scotch is a Christmas spirit, right? Johnny Walker red and white label?

Losing Sight of the True Meaning of Christmas

One of the best parts about this time of the year, being in a corporate world of polite circle jerking, is all the Christmas Functions I get invited to. For every client I support I get another drinks and nibbles invitation email. Plus all the internal ones: Team Drinks, Department drinks, Corporate Christmas Party. Today I received my invitation to my Building's Christmas celebration. I hovered over 'Accept' in Outlook as I quickly glanced over the attached message.

"Congratulations for all your accomplishments in 2007. In reward for your hard work you are invited to the X-Mas breakfast on Thursday 20th December, 7:00am - 9:00am."

Excuse me, Outlook Appointment Notification? Getting up for a 7:00am breakfast isn't a reward, it's a punishment. What's the point of working so hard and being 100% committed to my company when I don't get to slack off during work times for half of december?

Disgusted, I prepared to mark as tentative and inevitably just turn up at 0830 for a few beers before work. Until I realised that there's not even alcohol served at this breakfast! Seriously, this company has some major issues.

On the DERP day of DERPness my DERP love gave to me

Derp is a funny word after a joke that is obvious and everyone can see coming.

I set my alarm for 7:55am and chose SexyBack as the chords that would wake me for my day. The theory was that the Timberlake/Timbaland combination would spur me into morning action with the hint of shenanigans that would occur at, uh, shenanigans later in the evening. I woke up at 9:50am and my alarm hadn't gone off. I hate to say this, but that's ironic.

So, when I finally did arise I smashed through a shower because, seriously, I was 2 hours late for work. That shit don't fly with me.

I didn't have lunch at work today. In fact, I actually worked almost the whole day, which is unusual. Usually at least a few hours are dedicated to internet browsing and general slacking. So imagine my surprise when at 4pm after a solid 6 hours of work I realised that Facebook, Bigfooty and every single web messenger interface had just been added to the firewall's blocked website's list.

Yes, that's right, I work harder than I have any other day this summer and it coincides with the death of the majority of sites I use at work.

One website that wasn't blocked was gmail. And I received an email saying that the Chemical Brothers were now coming to the Adelaide Future Music Festival. That's right, I spend $400 for nothing on tickets and flights to Melbourne to see them only for them to extend their visitation here a day later.

That's Derp. Everything is derp alright.

On the Second Day of Christmas

I got linen pants. I wore them to work and by God every step I take is like gentle sex. Not like heavy, brutal metal chick sex but more like sultan with several concubines who slowly wave me with fans sex.

A bit rough

When I was first invited to play in a weekend basketball carnival a few months ago I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it through a day of multiple games without my back giving out completely.

Then, last Sunday with the carnival less than a week away I rolled my ankle and I wasn't sure I'd even be able to run during the six games of basketball I'd have to play on the first day.

What I didn't expect, and thus it came as a surprise, was that on the third day of Christmas I would get extreme thigh chafing. After 12 hours of running around in the same sweaty underwear with my thighs constantly going scrape, scrape, scrape I emerged from day one of this weekend carnival with long red rashes down each of my inner thighs. And disturbingly, much less leg hair.

Indeed by the middle of the last game all I could do as a ran-waddled up the court each time was pray for some sort of cool, soothing relief. I was shocked to then actually receive some in what I thought was moisturiser from god appearing on my legs during someone else's free-throws. But it actually turned out to be blood running down my quadriceps.

After getting home and showering I pillaged the bathroom for anything that might be helpful. There I found Nivea Cooling Skin Relief, and this sounded like a blessing. It spoke of dry, red and irritated skin and of the power of its cool, refreshing results. So I wiped a palmful along the inside of one thigh, realising immediately that this bottle had come from a razor gift pack and that the product contained obscene amounts of aftershave. I almost broke my jaw from screaming.

After my second shower I found some Vaseline in my brother's room and applied that conservatively, and then extremely religiously about my nether regions. This has helped a lot. Coming from sensuous linen pants yesterday to grimacing every step this evening has come as quite a shock. I have more games tomorrow.

Christmas Day 4

Before this weekend I didn't even know I wanted bike shorts. After buying them between games today I now feel like I didn't know what having nuts was about until now.

Things I Didn't Get for Christmas

Why are there big red ribbons on things everywhere? Gum trees, street signs, stobie poles, lamp posts. On council property and in people's front gardens. I understand they're there for Christmas, but when did big red ribbon bows become a Christmas decoration? There are already a lot of weird, unnecessary Christmas decorations. Wreaths, balls on Christmas trees, delightful gay tinsel spread everywhere. There's also the obscene amounts of fossil-fuel burning lights. This is what we're dooming the Great Barrier Reef for?

But I'm cool with all those things, because they're traditional. What's not traditional are lazily wrapping up your trees and letterboxes and No Standing signs like they're a gift to the world. It's new and contemporary and I don't like it! I'm paranoid that this is just the first of many steps towards changing Christmas Time into a generic Festive Season. As the world becomes more integrated and more multicultural we need to stop and embrace each others differences, not ignore them and blend them all together. I don't want to hear people saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas". And I don't want to lose gay tinsel.

Also, the following stores do not have "all your Christmas shopping needs" despite what they wish you thought:

  • Bunnings Warehouse
  • Supercheap Auto
  • Officeworks

Not to mention Chrisco. I wouldn't want to have shares in them right now.

Finally, in the most perplexing Celebration of Jesus Christ's Birth Day so far, I got home from work tonight and in the mail was a letter from work. This was odd because why would work mail me at home when I had just come from work? Inside was a form letter with my name at the top and talk about 2007 as a period of sustainable growth and better aligning towards market sectors in 2008. (This is done mainly through changing the name of random departments/things). It was the same stuff I'd read in many corporate template emails over the last few weeks from other assorted senior managers and like those this one had a throw away reference to having a happy holidays, which I appreciated (the thought, not the semantics). However the disturbing part of this story is that the envelope it came in was unstamped nor was it Postage Paid Australia'd or baring any sign of having travelled through the Australia Post service. The only conclusion I could assume is that someone from work had been to my house to deliver the letter. While I don't pretend to fully understand the theory behind work/life balance I feel this was surely a gross violation of it. Furthermore, if 2007 was a successful year of sustainable growth why are Senior Management dropping letters off themselves and saving money on stamps?

On the 8th Day of Chinese New Christmas

8 is a lucky number in Asia. Because it has no edges or points or looks like boobs on their side or something (I'm not very cultured).

It was on the 8th day of Christmas I visited the mail room to find a package from Chow. I carried it to my desk and opened it excitedly. What could it be?

LEGO!!!! I love Chow.

LEGO!!!! I love Chow.

So at 10:30 AM I began constructing my Lego in my cubicle. The first instruction was very clear.

So at 10:30 AM I began constructing my Lego in my cubicle. The first instruction was very clear.

Nothing against assembling in a cubicle though. And I was off.

Nothing against assembling in a cubicle though. And I was off.

Progress shot. Nice work phone camera, focusing on the background instead of the object right in front of the lens.

Progress shot. Nice work phone camera, focusing on the background instead of the object right in front of the lens.

But wait! I was building a catapult for destroying the undead horse rider but my set was sans rubber band! Fortunately undead horse rider found one that was holding a packet of nuts together and brought it over, not realising how counter-productive this might be towards his undead future.

But wait! I was building a catapult for destroying the undead horse rider but my set was sans rubber band! Fortunately undead horse rider found one that was holding a packet of nuts together and brought it over, not realising how counter-productive this might be towards his undead future.

Finished and put on my PC.

Finished and put on my PC.

I modded skeleton rider to be half robot half skeleton rider. I love Lego.

I modded skeleton rider to be half robot half skeleton rider. I love Lego.

But does the catapult actually work?

But does the catapult actually work?



People keep looking at me. Probably should get back to work.

Merry Holidays

As the year comes to a close I plan to post at least several features and reviews to summarise the past 12 month. The first of these is Photos of the latter part of the year. Basically photos of the month fodder that was too unique and specific to feature as a photo filled journal entry which was the ultimate cause of death for Photos of the Month.

A dragonfly allows me to play with my camera's macro mode.

A dragonfly allows me to play with my camera's macro mode.

Gus is thoroughly impressed by DJ Bradism.

Gus is thoroughly impressed by DJ Bradism.

My cousins's foot, a dog, my foot.

My cousins's foot, a dog, my foot.

Continue Reading Photos of the Latter Part of the Year...

My Christmas Letter to the Internet

Dear Internet,
Another year is almost over! As fast as Christmas Letters get received it seems it's time to write another. This year, unsurprisingly, my family's Christmas letter regaled the lives of everyone far too equally and so once again I feel the need to evaluate my own year more thoroughly and schizophrenically.

The main money winning Brad this year was employment Brad who learnt many things about himself and the corporate world during 2007. These were important things, like the best places in town for coffee. Or how to take credit for the good work done by people in India while also blaming them when things went wrong. The first eight months were all about finishing the project started almost 2 years ago. After finishing it, and failing to implement it and finishing it again the whole department was pretty chuffed. Fortunately it seems everything Employment Brad contributed to the project has been working flawlessly and he hasn't been asked a single question about data replication since winter. With that behind him he now works in a job that lets him introduce himself to people as an "Applications Server Management Support Technician" which gets panties dropping. Based on the amount of training scheduled on Application Server for the coming months it seems likely that there will be plenty more panty dropping in the near future. Especially seeing that the only other source of income this year was a miserly 0ish dollars won by Gambling Brad on sports betting and Blackjack.

Academic Brad took notes from his younger brother Employment Brad by also achieving a long term goal at the half way stage of the year. We are pleased to announce that from June he had completed his Bachelor of Innovation and Enterprise in the fields of Science and Technology (another sexy title) and his second degree in four point five years was over. The endless months of studying are now done with, much to his deep disappointment.

Sports Brad is now the most regular visitor to the university. Not for study, although he did learn a set of Tai Chi during the rainy months, but usually to work out or sit on a bike as his shorts creep slowly up his arse. It has been a long 12 months for Sports Brad, starting with the long recovery from the spinal disc he ruptured in 2006. The first few months of 2007 were full of continuing physiotherapy, Pilates, walking and awkward doorframe stretches. Since then he has slowly progressed beyond therapy to return to lifting weights and playing basketball. We are all very proud of him. While sporting achievements were limited this year, with yet another round of making the finals comfortably then being knocked out, there were a few pinnacles. The first being the highly successful BULKTEMBER which taught Sports Brad as well as a lot of other people many interesting facts about nutrition and fitness. He also capped the year off by playing six games of social basketball during one day during a Christmas basketball carnival, which plainly was just giving the finger to last summer's Sports Brad who couldn't even play in one. Sports Brad has also started training with a district basketball team to hopefully play competitively next year and to gain some skills. Sports Brad is now almost at the age where just being tall isn't enough to be good anymore.

Creativity Brad has had an average year compared to some of his peers. This marks his 151st journal entry for the year which is a poor ratio of entries to days. However the quality or at least the quantity of the words in them has gone up since last year. There have also been 25 articles or phocumentaries posted on this site so far this year, which is a new record. The progress in coding the site itself has been much slower.
Creativity Brad has also often been seen on the train busy scribbling fiction into his notebooks too, though none of those stories has ever been finished. "My writing has really improved this year" he confided in me after being rejected for a position writing music reviews for a local street press. "I keep finding more and more shit things I do and cutting them out. I have to raise myself up to acceptable soon. If Mahwela Singh could become an analyst while clearly having no grasp of Java then I too can get paid for writing crap." Yes, well you never met Mahwela Singh, Creativity Brad, it was Employment Brad who did that. You've rehashed the whole gimmick.
So wherever you find yourself this holiday period we all wish you a Joyous Festive Season and prosperous new year. Treat every day as an amazing gift, even if I don't post a journal entry. To everyone in the Internet: Merry Christmas.


My Christmas Haul

Size 16 thongs (flip flops)
Size 60 hat
Jumbo sized towel
Largest Crumpler backpack in the store

It's like my family has finally realised I'm a giant bastard and now they're poking me with a stick.

Albums of the Year - 2007

50. Mark Ronson - Version
Mark Ronson turns all sorts of songs into funky dancefloor hits.
49. !!! - Myth Takes
Electro punk with some catchy tunes and some groovy tunes.
48. BoyfriendGirlfriend - Names Names
Tag team of bedroom producers from different cities who produced a very sexual sounding techno album.
47. Menomena - Friend and Foe
A rock band with an intriguing experimental sound behind them. Some warped sounding tracks amongst these songs.
46. Simian Mobile Disco - Attack Decay Sustain Release
Lots of dancefloor hits.
45. Efterklang - Parades
Highly moody melodies and captivating sounds.
44. The Hives - The Black and White Album
Very catchy, frenetic rock songs. Highly poppy. Some filler.
43. Ratatat - Remixes Vol. II
Making some classic Hip Hop of the last few years and decades sound exceedingly fresh. Stomping, sweeping beats as you'd expect from Ratatat.
42. The Nextmen - This Was Supposed to be the Future
UK Hip Hop duo who drop beats of a dizzying array of styles. Quality summer flavour to most and a few good collabs.
41. Rob Sonic - Sabatoge Gigante
Kinda white but still good Hip-Hop in Aesop Rock style ramblings.
40. Mice Parade - Mice Parade
Soft, melodious indie rock with sublime and dominant guitar work.
39. Chemical Brothers - We Are the Night
Psychedelic techno from some of the pioneers of the scene, an album that grows with every listen.
38. Caribou - Andorra
Terrific trippy electronic music.
37. Oliver Koletzki - Get Wasted
Really German house music. Smooth, efficient and minimal. Deep dubs.
36. Editors - An End Has A Start
Cinematic Indie Rock that sweeps all the elements of a song up into a dramatic blast of music on almost every track.
35. The Apples in Stereo - New Magnetic Wonder
Indie Pop Rock from the same label as Neutral Milk Hotel. Plenty of catchy ditties and extreme overuse of vocal distortion effects.
34. Voxtrot - Voxtrot
A LP with perhaps a few too many tracks but with plenty of enjoyable ones as well.
33. Patrick Wolf - The Magic Position
Lounge singer style vocals over delicious, melodious pop beats.
32. Digitalism - Idealism
German electro outfit showing that the French aren't the only ones capable of making high quality electro dance music.
31. Studio - Yearbook 1
Looping layers of warm electronica, slow building and highly rewarding. Kinda minimal.
30. Blockhead - Uncle Tony's Coloring Book
Classy instrumental hip-hop from one of the best producers on the Def Jux label.
29. Offcuts - What Happened Don't Lie
Very addictive rock from this Australian Band from Melbourne. Coming from an electronic music background shows through in what is a solid influence.
28. Modeselektor - Happy Birthday!
Shadowy electro breaks with a few tracks of synths and hip-hop which work well.
27. Hopewell - Beautiful Targets
Former Mercury Rev vocalist in his own band in an album filled with both poppy rock tunes as well as slower moving, classical ballads.
26. Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare
Heavier and less dancey than their first album but still very catchy and a good evolution from the band.
25. Apostle of Hustle - National Anthem of Nowhere
Broken Social Scene guitarists side project, very laidback indie rock.
24. The White Stripes - Icky Thump
Sometimes low-fi but always high quality, this album combines fun, experimentation and rocking guitar work into an effective final product.
23. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Slightly experimental tracks from Spoon as well as a few standard fare high quality indie rock classics like Underdog. Hard to fault.
22. Klaxons - Myths of the Near Future
A solid album of nu-electro, enough to make them the pioneers of the sound.
21. Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are you the Destroyer
Screaming electro-punk, full of high energy lyrics and interesting synthesizer work.
20. Kanye West - Graduation
Kanye West may be arrogant but he could squeeze a good beat from a stone.
19. Maximo Park - Our Earthly Pleasures
Catchy post-punk-pop-rock.
18. Interpol - Our Love To Admire
I thought this was a really good combination of Antics and Turn on the Bright Lights.
17. The National - Boxer
Sombre, rambling lyrics over shadowy, grungy guitars and drums.
16. Radiohead - In Rainbows
Radiohead's greatest strength is making a song simultaneously depressingly soulful and catchy as fuck.
15. The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Tonnes of instrumentalists, tonnes of talent, very solid album.
14. Kings of Leon - Because Of The Times
Hick rock that rocks.
13. Bishop Allen - The Broken String
Rocky pop with many catchy melodies but occasionally lazy lyrics.
12. Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
Patchwork quilt like lyrics spat over some awesome, eclectic beats. Aes' finest work to date.
11. Battles - Mirrored
Rhythm and melody parsed through a number of mathematical formulas to produce captivating beats.
10. Justice - Cross
Revolutionising clubs and dance floors by making house rock.
9. Bloc Party - A Weekend in the City
More excellent, catchy rock with excellent production work.
8. Pepe Deluxe - Spare Time Machine
Jazzy/Funky/Groovy multi-instrumental breaks and delightful lyrics.
7. The Cinematics - A Strange Education
New Order/Interpol style rock with an excellent, emotive vocalist.
6. Okkervil River - The Stage Names
Lyrically and instrumentally captivating.
5. The Shins - Wincing The Night Away
Strong guitar pop ballads.
4. Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank
Small town rock now applied to a global village. This album sounds like it was a lot of fun to make and therefore is a lot of fun to listen to.
3. Alterkicks - Do Everything I Taught You
Catchy Liverpool pop/rock. Very catchy.
2. Feist - The Reminder
A beautiful, waify voice over light and dark pop melodies.
1. El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead
Dark, verbose hip-hop with dark, multi-layered apocalypse beats.