Officially "employed"

Today I made a bold decision - I told Centrelink, more or less politely, to shove their Youth Allowance up their corrupt arses. They were pretty much forcing me to go on Work for the Dole, which basically means I have to work, but don't get any extra money. Working for $126.42 a fortnight? FUCK OFF.

So now the need for a job is slightly increased, but fortunately I've been on the trail of employment in the last week or so and had an interview after sending only a few applications, and then got another call about a job which I'll probably get an interview for. In fact, I think the phone call WAS the interview. (It's a telemarketing job - yes, I'm a sellout. I don't care.)

So that's another victory for the bastards in charge of Centrelink, whose job it is to heap so much bullshit and beurocracy onto people that they don't bother claiming any unemployment benefits, and therefore the unemployment rates look better and the Government doesn't have to spend as much money helping people when it could be spending its money on ruining the country.

The power of manliness hits an all-time high

Due to Maddox's new book, The Alphabet of Manliness (which, sadly, I have yet to read), manliness has become a force powerful enough to physically warp tall buildings. As evidence to this, I refer you to this screenshot from the Google map which shows the location of Maddox's book signing when his book tour goes through Boston:



As you can see, the buildings are warping, apparently in an effort to get closer to this temporary centre of manliness. The building on the left is moving away, but it is probably full of metrosexuals.

This title [was] longer than the actual post

My life is complete: clicky.

EDIT: I spoke too soon. Evidently the Copyright Nazis have ruined yet another wonder of the inter-webs. The cartoons on that site have been "removed due to copyright infringement". Bastards! I wanted to watch more Beavis and Butthead.

EDIT: Turns out they're all on YouTube anyway. Coolsauce!

EDIT: Well, some of them are.

I have broadband

At long last, I have broadband. I actually connected it a couple of days ago, so much of the enthusiasm and ecstasy has worn off, but it's still pretty awesome. I think I'll write a song about it. Maybe I'll call it "I Told You Your Bloody Days Were Numbered, You Prick".

My 5ki11z0rz are impressive, apparently

I have achieved ultimate transcendence - I have finished N.

If you're not one of the 0.0000001% of people who knows what N is (and you didn't click the link), you're probably scratching your head wondering how I could have finished a letter. N is in fact a computer game. An extremely fucking difficult computer game. About a ninja. And I have, after several months of frequent playing (during which my levels of infuriated strings of swear words have gone through the roof), finished it.

All five hundred levels.

If the number of levels isn't enough to blow your mind, I suggest you download the game and play some of the later levels. You will instantly abandon your false prophets and hail me as your god.

Where you goin' with that gun of yours

I went out with the lads again on thursday. I thought it would be even better than tuesday but it ended up kind of shitty.

We started out at some pub. On the way there we were in a taxi and Doff was in another taxi. As some stage we pulled up at the same set of traffic lights and we started yelling "hey Doff!" Then the taxi driver who had a thick Asian accent yelled it as well, which was hilarious. When we got to the pub I nicked a Heineken glass as a feeble retaliation for making Heineken so rediculously expensive. Me and Zeff then wandered off in search of a bottle shop to get some cheaper booze. None of the nearby places had anything very cheap so we wandered off towards Oxford St. We eventually found a bottle shop on Oxford St., bought a bottle of Passion Pop and sculled it in a nearby alley. I needed to take a leak so we went into a nearby bar to use the facilities.

(A side note for those who don't know: Oxford St. is the gay centre of Sydney, and it is safe to assume any bar on Oxford St. to be a gay bar. I knew that, but Zeff didn't.)

We went in and walked upstairs to where the toilet was. I went in. When I came out Zeff said something along the lines of "holy shit, I just realised this it a gay bar!" Of course, my response was "duh. We're on Oxford St., what do you expect?" Apparently the tip-off was when he was standing there idly beatboxing and a guy came out of the toilet and said in a really gay voice, "you're beatboxing your little heart out aren't you?"

The night took a turn for the worse when Abbie convinced us to walk her home. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had been the three blocks she said it was, but we ended up walking for probably the better part of an hour, out past bloody Kensington. On the way, I was climbing a tree (I was drunk by this stage) and Doff told me to jump out and he'd catch me. Of course, he didn't, and I fell on my tailbone on a tree root which hurt like hell.

"AAARGH, that fucking canes! If I wanted to have a sore arse because of a root, I would have stayed on bloody Oxford Street."

Not long after I jumped onto Doff's back and he proceeded to fall backwards onto me. I landed on my elbows and they still hurt as I write this, two days later.

After the Sisyphean task of walking to Abbie's house we were pretty much screwed and had to get a taxi home. The only problem was we had bugger-all money. We decided to go as far as the $5 I had could take us. Before long a taxi came by and we hopped in.

Me "Hey mate, we're going to Glebe. We only have five bucks though, so when the meter gets to five bucks just drop us off wherever."
Taxi driver "I like you, you honest. You give me five dollar now, I take you to Glebe."
Us "Awesome!" "Thanks man, you're a legend!"

I spent the night on the floor for lack of a better sleeping place, which sucked. A lot.

The next night wasn't very remarkable. We ran through the rain to get to the stainy pub down the road which has $2.50 schooners. We had a few beers and some dinner while we listened to the band that was playing there. Of course, just as I was getting into the music the other guys decided we should leave.

Today me and Zeff walked about seven kilometres to get a new radiator hose for Zeff's car. That sucked.