Saturday, December 31, 2005

A Life Less Ordinary, Part Two

As it turns out, I was wrong. There is something worse than the aforementioned scenario. You could also have a chocolate milk addiction, and as a result, also require a Swazarian Section (where they take the baby out through an incision roughly the size and shape of Swaziland), and your baby gets born with cocoa cravings.

Howwible. Tewwible. Nightmawish even.

Friday, December 23, 2005

A Life Less Ordinary

We have also determined that the worst thing that could ever happen is going through Labour Colour Oedema Anaesthesia Theatre at the Centre for Paediatrics (OK, so maybe I went overboard with the Brytysh speeling, but really what I meant was labour, as in the pregnancy, not as in the work or the politics. Isn't it a shame that you didn't end up at the Women's Hospital, you ended up at the CHILDREN'S?!?!?!), while you're passing a kidney stone. Then, suddenly, you get a 3rd degree perineal tear. Then you get pyelonephritis (kidney infection). Then you have an asthma attack. So your obstetrician decides you're better off if you have a caesarian, making all that pain and suffering a bit, well, redundant. Then they shatter your kidney stone with ultrasound at the same time (this is the only happy part of this story). After all of that, you manage to get an amniotic fluid embolism, which manages to give you disseminated intravascular coagulation (DIC or basically having so many tiny little clots EVERYWHERE that you can just bleed ot death). Then you die of strokes. The end.

"Thilini just said that it is ok to make fun of dead people ie if this actually happened to someone...she is going straight to hell in a handbasket!!!!!!!!!!!" - The Canuckistani

Murderpiece Theatre

The Canuckistani and I saw a water purification plant today and came up with many ways to dispose of people. There were the "rapids of death waterfall manhole", the "mustard gas chamber", the "skirt-eating fan of doom" and the "sludge bucket". We hope to return some day to commit many a murder, some of which may be featured on such British shows as "Saturday night murders", "A murder too far", "Murder, a drink with jam and bread" and "the sound of murder".

Stay tuned!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

A Collection of Phrases

So one day I was feeling deep as paper. Though, for the record, I am java and I like to monk most of the time. Then I discovered that I have pregnant. What the legs?! For days and days I felt very sad. Ink sad. But then I thought about it and it was totally SUPA-FLY! I told EVERYONE on Whirlfool about it and they were totally "Acceptio!" plus-plus.


Travel Blogs

As I'll be off to Sri Lanka and Swaziland in a couple of days for my electives, I will be posting a travel diary of sorts, one at The Expatriate (Blogspot) and the other at Der Auswanderer (LiveJournal). These will have the same text on them, and reading one or the other shall be the same experience- I leave it up to your personal preference. The links to both blogs are also provided on this site (yes, I have finally revamped the sidebar slightly so that it is clearer).

Have a great holiday, people. This site is now almost a year and a half old =).

Sunday, December 11, 2005


thread: Why does the Eye & Ear Hospital smell like Mee Goreng?
Me: Because it improves your eyesight and earvision!
I roll around laughing hysterically
Araluena: Earvision isn't even a real word!
thread: Do you think it might be when you have a TV implanted in your ear?
Me: Did you get to see the Earovision Contest of 2005?

Friday, December 09, 2005

Odds and Ends

In a celebration of Post #102, I have decided to compile a list of small humorous bits and pieces which on their own would not be worthy of a post! Many of these are almost, in themselves, follow-ups to past posts, and thus, almost a retrospective! Yay!

Medical terms that I have been called recently:
  • Tylenol
  • Fertility
Some Definitions:

DateFreeze: (n.) when you are on a date and there is that awkward pause when you think that maybe you should kiss them but you're not really sure what to do.

Fundamental Incompatibility: (n.) when your relationship is doomed from the start because your operating systems and/or hardware do not compute. Contrast: Terminal Error; Critical Failure.

Another bad pickup sequence (on MSN):

H4xx0r: And so, I had this really big accident where I fell asleep at the wheel and the next thing I knew, my car was flipping over, and I almost died...
Me: Wow, that's terrible!
H4xx0r: I decided, to hell with it all! I need a new perspective on life, to live life day by day to the fullest as if I might die tomorrow...
Me: Good plan!
H4xx0r: ... and I think this means I should just have sex with as many people as I possibly can!
Me: ...
H4xx0r: Wanna cyber?
Snipergirl has logged off

In regards to a forum thread about "hot girls" in Harry Potter:

Note how in this post, the lesbian paedophiles send each other emoticons that look like this: "<3". While this is ostensibly a love-heart, it looks a lot more like something far more sinister... recall that the true sign of a paedophile is that they give candy rather than flowers, or take their dates out for ice-cream rather than coffee.

I would like to suggest that this double cone of ice-cream shaped emoticon is the International Symbol of Paedophilia, and is in fact the method by which paedophiles communicate with and find each other on internet fora, secret-handshake-style!

Beware, fellow internet travellers; if someone sends you this emoticon, they are not, as you may have hoped, attempting to get into your silken drawers. Not only are they a paedophile, they also believe that YOU are a paedophile. Possibly with good reason. Be warned.

If you see this emoticon in use, please email us: or

Please send this message on to as many people as you can! If you do not email more than 10 people with this message, frogs will plague you, Asian bird flu will infect you, tsunamis, hurricanes and earthquakes will assail you, terrorists will explode you, anti-terror squads will detain you and guards will electrocute your nipples.

Be alarmed, not alert!

And finally, In Memoriam of the Old Q&A, recently deceased. Requiescat In Pace. We miss you:

Welcome to the new, "revamped" Builder's Arms. We are now known to the world as a rather fancy wine bar, quite indeed and have, as such, rebranded ourselves as "Secretia's Secret."

Secretia's Secret! The finest, most exclusive wine establishment in the country of Oe-stray-lia! Do drop in! It will be Rather Dashing!

Thursday, December 08, 2005


Cel: Walk around in a fedora hat? Wait, I have a fedora hat! I have two of those!
Cel: The true sign of a paedo? Reading Harry Potter fan-fiction while playing a broken accordion.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Culture-Specific Syndromes

Just when the idea of being awake at 5:30am studying for an exam in four hours became truly unbearable, a classic quote emerges from my Psychiatry textbook:
"Frottage is where men rub themselves against women, becoming sexually excited possibly to orgasm. These men are the scourge of mass transit systems during rush hours."
-Foundations of Clinical Psychiatry, Bloch & Singh, 2nd Ed.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Exam Stress!

For some unknown reason (*cough*examstress*cough*), I feel that my life is perhaps less interesting than I had hoped. Due to my recent attacks of morbid jealousy of people with "interesting" lives, as well as being inspired by recent events, I have decided to embark upon a new plan for my life:
  • I somehow find a part-time job in the best paying brothel in Melbourne.
  • As a workaholic, I make loads of money as a result.
  • I use this money to buy many different drugs.
  • I take said drugs.
  • While in the throes of a drug-induced psychosis, I give a public speech to a crowd of several hundred near Flinders Street Station along the lines of: "I believe that all ethnically Sri Lankan New Zealanders born in Hong Kong but who are now naturalised Australian citizens should be shot."
  • I then get arrested for "advocating terrorism" and imprisoned for 28 days without trial.
  • My brothel fires me because they have an employment policy which strictly forbids the hiring of "known terrorists".
  • Amanda Vanstone deports me to the wartorn country of Afpakistine in the Middle East, where I am supposedly from.
  • Later it is exposed that I am actually an Australian citizen and therefore cannot actually be deported. It is also revealed that I am not, as it turns out, from Afpakistine.
  • Amanda Vanstone proposes a bill which would allow anyone she doesn't like to have their Australian citizenship revoked. This bill is not passed due to a technicality. Tony Abbott is hailed for proclaiming this technicality to be "un-Australian". Kim Beazley's support drops to a record low of -40, at which point it does not matter whether this is a "preferred leader" poll or a "2 party preferred result". After blaming this on "winter" and "low pressure fronts", in a last ditch attempt to increase his popularity, he opts to compete on Dancing with the Stars.
  • I attempt to immigrate to Australia on a rickety boat. While in the Baxter detention centre, I finish writing the novelised version of "The Life of the Dire Assassin", as well as a "semi-fictional" memoir about my experiences as a good Aussie Sheila, a real battler. The title? "I'm not Schapelle: The Kylie from Quoinslend story"
  • Lynndie England is handed her sentence by the American military: to manage the Baxter Detention Centre, which is then renamed "Abu Ghraib".
  • Guards electrocute my nipples. This makes me very sad. Ink sad.
  • Somehow I manage to get a secret supply of amphetamines and pirated mp3s into the Detention Centre with the help of my old political ally, Fred Nile. Somalians protest.
  • We have a rave. The mainstream press decries this rave as another "horrifying account of the abuse of refugees in detention centres". Street press magazines describe it as the "gig of the year". Kim Beazley calls for an investigation into "Abu Ghraib". He gets voted off "Dancing with the stars" as a result. Amanda Vanstone eats another muffin. The Greens use this as an opportunity to attempt to legalise Hash Muffins.
  • Eventually I am freed from the detention centre. Despite being plastered over newspapers throughout the country, and not showing up to any of my exams, the Medical Faculty has still not noticed my absence and indeed has given me yet another set of identical marks. I am now about to finish final year.
  • "I'm not Schapelle: The Kylie from Quoinslend story" sells 1,048,576 copies on its first week of release, boosting it to the top of the Australian non-Fiction bestsellers lists above the autobiographies of all the Socceroos players. Numerologists proclaim that this as a sign of the imminent destruction of the world. Said destruction does not occur. Numerologists commit suicide en masse. This day becomes a national holiday.
  • I graduate medicine after an absence of 2 years.
  • "The Life of the Dire Assassin" is published. It sells 300 copies in total, all of which go to whiny goths with LiveJournals. Said whiny goths commit suicide en masse. This day becomes the first "National Gothic Day". Citizens are confused as to whether to mourn or celebrate.
  • I make an additional income stealing drugs from anaesthetics cupboards and selling them to Abu Ghraib through Fred Nile. I almost get caught, but fortunately the person who catches me "has an accident" later that day.
  • I rise through the ranks and become the Director-General of the WHO.
  • "I'm not Schapelle: The Kylie from Quoinslend story" is nominated for the Nobel prize for literature AND the MTV music awards. It wins the Nobel prize, but loses the MTV awards. Australian fans who attempted to SMS their preference to the awards are outraged. It is pointed out that there is no SMS voting service for the MTV music awards. There is rioting in Chapel Street for 1 hour. Then Big Brother comes on.
  • As a result of being the Director-General of the WHO, I am now rich, a doctor, a drug dealer to many detention centres around the world, and obscenely fat. I sleep with a semi-automatic weapon hidden in the folds of my rather significant bosom. I adopt an Italian accent and change my name to "Don Quixote" (pronounced kwik-soat), you know, because it's literary. I use my power and influence to sleep with as many hot Doctor types as I possibly can. I take to wearing diamond encrusted rings on all of my fingers.
  • After a fulfilling life, I die while choking on an escargot, lobster, truffle, rhinoceros, oyster, pâté de foie gras, caviar, placenta, hot dog seafood bisque. My body disappears from its underground crypt after 3 days and 3 nights...
  • Snipergirl sightings become commonplace. Face appears in toast. Photographs of me in various settings, including the sky appear in bad tabloids throughout Michigan. It is rumoured that I am in league with the Nintendo Aliens of Metroid-5. Samus Aran is not amused, and goes and shoots some shit, just for fun.
The End...

... Or Is It?!

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Where do I find these people? Part One

In a direct followup to the previous post, we have another edition of...


Today we will examine the a sample of the various pickup lines and flirting methods (I think this is the most reasonable explanation of what they were trying to do) that people have once used on me.

My room, 6 a.m. The phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Ben4Sex: Hey, it's Ben here.
Me: Why are you calling me at 6 a.m?
Ben4Sex: Can I come over? I've been out all night
Me: No.


Me: I'm sorry, I'm busy all week at class. And at my part-time job bathing ducklings.

On a Second Date

Guy: ...and then I had this horrible skin condition as a child and all my skin peeled off.


Me: I think I'm gay.

At the Groove Armada Concert

I am walking to the bar with Fearsome Beret
Random Girl: Is that your boyfriend? [points to Fearsome Beret]
Me: No...
Random Girl: Because you could do so much better...
I walk away quickly

At the Peel

Guy: Would you like to dance?
Me: Sure, why not?
We dance
Guy: Would you like to watch me masturbate?
Me: WHAT? No!
I walk away quickly

In my house

Girl with the Red-Haired Boyfriend: Are you a prostitute?

I am not sure what possesses people to think that these tactics will even vaguely work. I can't think of anything more off-putting than these methods! Excepting, you know, if a girl asked you if she could take a dump on your chest.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Unsubtle Enquiries

So, this fine evening, the following “interesting interchanges” went on between me and other people of my acquaintance out of the blue:

Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: I have a random question for you...
: Go for it
Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: Are you... a prostitute?
Me: Huh?
Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: Are you a prostitute?
Me: What? No!
[Awkward pause]
Me: What on earth gave you that idea?
Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: Oh, Red-Haired Boyfriend and I went past your room about a week ago and there were two guys outside your room. And then a few days later you had some other people over, and we were a bit drunk, so we just assumed...
Me: Oh. Right. Well, I’m not.


Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: So, Red-Haired Boyfriend was sort of talking about how he’s surprised that I’ve never slept with a girl. And then he said something about how he once had this threesome where his ex’s friend just came in while they were having sex and he didn’t really enjoy it. And then sort of said that he didn’t mind if I slept with girls and suggested that maybe we should have a threesome...
Me: Oh, OK.
Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: So, I just can’t really work out whether I want to or not. I really can’t. Like, maybe I couldn’t, but maybe I could, and I’ve just been thinking about it ever since...
Me: Uhhh. Yeah.

Even Later:

Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: Yeah, so I went for an interview for nude modelling.
Me: What was it like?
Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend: Well, I was expecting it to be more artistic, you know? But it was sort of, well, pornographic, I think. So I didn’t really sign up.
Me: Sure, sure you didn’t.

[Exit Girl With The Red-Haired Boyfriend Stage Left]


Me: My housemate just asked me if I was a prostitute
Pet0r: Did you say yes?
Pet0r: Tell her you won’t do her for less than $100
Pet0r: In the bath
Pet0r: Offer to shave her for $40
Me: And then she started going on about enquiring about nude modelling
Pet0r: LMAO
Pet0r: You should have said, well I could pay you $50/hour for shots for my NEW site, but it isn't being launched for a while yet
Me: "You can have a discount for my services if you forgo your fee"

Aetherfox: Post her pic
Aetherfox: I wanna see if she’s hot

I blame the recent appearance of Tendafoot and Charhate in my lives as their counterparts Sexy Ryan and Sexy Alan, the quantum-entangled repopulaters of the human race for these happenings...

This whole incident very much surprises me. Before this, the closest I have come to prostitution was that time someone gave me $5 for my pair of socks.

I sold my soles for $5. Har har.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Minor Propositions

After this post, and this post, it is clear to see what is happening to dear Aetherfox. So I was not all that surprised to see that he was listening to a Hilary Duff song. Upon further questioning it became clear that he had acquired this item nonchalantly as it was the soundtrack to a premium paedo website. This somehow led to the obvious question: Is it illegal to possess pictures of the hotter, computer generated Cho Chang with her face 'shopped onto the body of a pornstar? What if it's Hermione?

In due course, we were led to the following observations:
  1. The sign of a paedo? You don't give her flowers, you give her candy.
  2. The sign of a paedo rapist? You walk around the corner, dress up in a Mickey Mouse suit and steal the candy back.
  3. The true sign of a paedo? You walk around in a fedora.
It soon came to light that Aetherfox was indeed in possession of the songs of the ultimate in paedo bait, Nikki Webster, and soon a disturbing fact was brought to light. The astronomical rise in the popularities of these fresh-faced supple young saplings of girlhood, these symbols of corruptible innocence if you will, was clearly due to their marketing to the paedophile audience. Case in point? "Anywhere but Here" by the Duff herself.

The culmination of this sequence of thoughts was indeed, that there was an unmissable financial opportunity available! Yes, that is correct, a compilation CD called "Paedo Bait 2005 Vol. 1" featuring the "music" of Hilary Duff, Nikki Webster and Amanda Bynes, with secret 'shopped hybrid photos encoded into the music files- including the faces of prominent Harry Potter pinup girls.

Soon, sick of the endless progression of childlike fake eargasms, Aetherfox changed the music he was listening to abruptly.

To Kelly Clarkson.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

A Surprising Turn of Events

It seems that my future experiences of worming orphans in Somalia and, hopefully, defeating Fred Nile at his piratical political career, have taken a turn for the more bizarre:

Fred Nile Strikes Again!

I am appalled and disgusted by the lengths to which this political animal will sink. Depriving Somalian orphans of their food indeed! And purely for the purpose of fulfilling election promises in the University of Melbourne Student Union elections. While, as Siren Elmira the Seductress may attest, these are elections without equal in terms of world influence, I feel that such an act is both depraved and shows once more the lengths to which Christian Fundamentalists will go in order to take over the world.

Now Gloria Jeans, that's another matter altogether...

Monday, October 10, 2005


So, I've been called yet another weirdo variation upon my name. Today I will summarise the ongoing weirdness that is other people and their inability to pronounce the name Thilini. Yes, I have been referred to by all of the following names.

Evil alter egos:
  • Villany
  • Tyranny
  • Khilini
Good alter egos:
  • Trinity
Ditsy yet morally neutral alter egos:
  • Tiffany
  • Thilicity
Greek alter egos:
  • Thillanis
One wonders why the "creative" minds involved in this rebranding of Snipergirl have not been employed by some similarly "creative" employer.

Like Bollywood.

Friday, October 07, 2005

On The Nature of Geekdom

[p class = “Chat Transcript”]

Snipergirl: have you seen da sydney p33pZ0rs?
Sydney Girl: what?
Sydney Girl: lol
Snipergirl: the sydney p33pZ0rs. they're a travelling circus of geeks.
Snipergirl: as in the kind who bite heads off chickens
Sydney Girl: nooo
Sydney Girl: yuck
Sydney Girl: i don;t want to see them
Sydney Girl: ahaha
Snipergirl: they're great
Snipergirl: i saw them when they came down to melbourne
Sydney Girl: what did they do
Sydney Girl: kill chickens?
Snipergirl: well, sort of... but they did it in entertaining and creative ways,.,
Snipergirl: like, there was a bit where they juggled the heads
Sydney Girl: yucko
Sydney Girl: lol
Snipergirl: and they managed to co-ordinate the dead chickens so that they ran around synchronised
Sydney Girl: no way
Sydney Girl: ahaha how funny
Snipergirl: i KNOW!
Snipergirl: it was one of the highlights of the show
Snipergirl: and as you would expect from geeks, there was a myriad of interesting electronic gear
Snipergirl: plus, they all spoke in l33t
Sydney Girl: what is that?
Snipergirl: you know, that geek language where they put numbers in everything
Sydney Girl: hmmm hmmmm
Sydney Girl: no
Sydney Girl: ahaha
Snipergirl: lol
Sydney Girl: taa
Snipergirl: anyway i think you should go see them
Snipergirl: they're doing a world tour at the moment i think... but i'm guessing htey'll be back in sydney soon enough
Sydney Girl: yeah where are they from
Snipergirl: sydney
Snipergirl: duh
Sydney Girl: ok ok
Snipergirl: *sigh*
Snipergirl: anyway i am hungry as
Sydney Girl: yeah me too i might eat soon and do some uni stuff
Snipergirl: awesome
Snipergirl: catchya later dudette


Monday, October 03, 2005

Mile High Club!

'Twas a fine day upon which I decided to plan my future around the world trip with the help of the trusty Siren Elmira the Seductress. For he had a wealth of experience in regards to air travel, and I, as a future medical professional, required a round-the-world ticket to deliver me to such ports as Auckland International Airport (AKL), New York's John F Kennedy International Airport (JFK) and London's Heathrow Airport (LHR). Let it be known also that the Siren has a wealth of tools at his disposal in regards to those much vaunted airline perks: the class upgrade.

The first question was, of course, which airline consortium I wished to fly- OneWorld or Star Alliance. For what few know is that they are in fact the rival puppet masters of the skies; the Illuminati and the Freemasons if you will. There are a myriad set of complex rules and requirements that cement the free upgrade. It is an arcane set of contortions that one must perform for this promotion, and indeed it has been described thusly:
"Sometimes you just have to wait for someone in a higher position to die."
And in fact it was the case that not so long ago an expatriate maid returning home upon a British Airways flight expired mid-flight and had to be kept in the empty First Class cabin. As one air hostess stated:
"Poor old bird, it's the only way she would have gotten upgraded."
Upon Singapore Airlines it is of course standard for planes to have within them a corpse cupboard in case of such grievous events. Possibly because so many maids fly on it, and are therefore more likely to expire.

What many do not realise is that main reason for the Siren's frequent air travel is to make use of his bisexual tendencies with the lovely ladies of the sky. Sometimes he even uses it as an excuse to breed and "drop a litter". However this is somewhat of a problem upon British Airways. For you see, those flight attendants are the hottest women that Britain can muster. You are much better off in Business Class where you are to be served by the sexiest men of Britain, the expatriate Wild Sheeps. Some of these are in fact Weresheep, men who have been affected by the "Polymorph" spell and now fluctuate between human and sheep form and are therefore lovely and fluffy all over.

Now, many of you may believe that Wild Sheeps originate from the country of my first travel destination, New Zealand. However this is a fallacy. While New Zealand may be the largest population of Wild Sheeps in the world, their true home is the Bronx in that second destination of mine, New York City. These native purebred Wild Sheeps are tough bastards, not to be crossed. Woe betide anyone who points out the colour of a black sheep's wool in the Bronx. In fact they often drop many a litter after breeding.

Now, while I was rather satisfied by my choice of travel agent in this matter, The Musketeer and Aku Soku Zan were less so. In fact they believe that in this current climate of airplane uncertainty, that I shall end up on precisely the wrong flight, on my way to a small airport in the middle of nowhere upon a rickety Cessna. That's right, kids. In 2 years from now, you may find me deworming orphans in Somalia.


Sunday, October 02, 2005

Fred Nile (Reprinted from

Fred Nile is an Australian politician and pirate who is of what is usually assumed to be Fundamentalist Christian right-wing persuasion. However, this is merely a facade for his secret links with the Australian mafia, pirates and University of Melbourne Student Union.

Political career

Fred Nile's current political career began in the year 1506 when he initiated what would become the Gunpowder Plot in protest over the Australian government's persecution of pirates. After a quite thorough character assassination as punishment (he was hung from the rafters of that ugly building in Canberra), he managed to reincarnate himself as a Zombie Christian fundamentalist Senate candidate.

After several attempts to control the Australian Senate, with various degrees of success (opposed by the Australian "Prime Minister" John Howard), Fred Nile is thought to have developed links with the mafia. Not long after this, he was recruited by several Socialist factions at the University of Melbourne Student Union as a political consultant. He in fact during this period stole a pirate ship from a fat Tasmanian lesbian pirate known as Robyn and donated it to the anti-VSU campaign. This pirate ship was then adorned with slogans referring to treasure and arse.

Not long after this, it was announced that Fred Nile was launching a campaign to run for the position of Queer Office bearer in the University of Melbourne Student Union elections. His platform was to be that of prayer and conversion to support the sinners in their sin. And also to provide hitman-type services for queer students for a fee and to provide "even more pirate ships".

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Tales from the Depths of Union House

Gay man: Look, I just don't find pre-operative female to male transsexuals appealling!
Transgendered person: That's transphobic!
Another gay man: Does that mean that he's also oppressing women by not wanting to sleep with them?
Sheila Jeffries: Of course, you testosterone-filled sack of human excrement! I'm going to write a book about how much I hate you all. Ph34r my l33t f3m1n157 w4yz.
Computer geek: Pwn'd! j00 f41L @ l1f3.
Science geek: Is it time to play D'n'D yet? I brought my Duergar Mage Robe just in case! I bags playing my Level 12 Lawful Evil Dwarven Cleric-Mage with -6 Charisma and a wart named "Betty" which has the ability to Turn Infected an additional 3 times per day. Oh, and we HAVE to play 3.5 rules this time!

(Let it be known across the land that such a conversation did indeed occur. We are all quivering in our boots.)

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Gossip! (A Tragi-Comedy)

So, this chick, she was dating this guy. And then she cheated on him with her Quality Assurance Manager. 'Cept of course then she found out she was pregnant. Then she realised that the manager wouldn't stick with her, so she married the first guy. He has no idea of this all. So then she says the following classic line to Priscilla:
"I wish I was single like you"
... wait. This isn't funny at all! This is just tragic! This is like those "Horrible Truth about Charissa" posts, except with less intrinsic value!

I need a life.

Monday, September 12, 2005

ROFLing in our seats. A true story.

Roflov, the reckless Russian is one of the many associates, comrades if you will, of Roflstain, the dirty German (no relation to Roflstalin of course). They are followers of the politics of the great Roflmao, who flies around the world in his Roflcopter, spreading his ideology. The Roflcopter is powered by the insanely powerful Infinite Monkey Typewriter Rofl Engine, which as you might imagine is a perpetual motion machine powered by infinite numbers of monkeys with typewriters both rolling on the floor laughing while typing "ROFL" an infinite number of times. However, unbeknownst to Roflmao, the Infinite Monkey Typewriter Rofl Engine has a subtle flaw- it is better compared to a nuclear explosion than a controlled nuclear reaction. One of those explosions that slowly starts to go out of control... till the entire world explodes in a wave of laughter. A world-killer explosion of SIDE-SPLITTING PAIN AND SUFFERING!

Pain and suffering has never been funnier... or perhaps laughter has never been so painful and sufferingful...

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Dancing Robot

It's having so much FUN!

Monday, September 05, 2005

Surfin' the Information Highway

While discussing matters of personal hygiene and information technology with The Dark Prince (and how achieving such aims cannot be pursued simultaneously), the concept of the world's first rugged outdoors laptop came about, back-of-napkin-during-drinks-with-physicists-or-engineers-style. Here are some model numbers which I feel are relevant:

XXTreme: The world's first waterproof shock-proof wireless enabled laptop. Designed for rugged outdoorsy types, usually with stubble and bleach-blond hair, possibly with a mountain bike, a surfboard, portable bungy-jumping apparatus and a shitload of pot. Comes with free GPS and an onboard first aid kit.

XXXTreme: In the vein of BMX XXX, this laptop features extra sex appeal and comes in a variety of sexy streamlined ergonomic designs. Comes with USB vibrator device and with optional wipe-down plastic cover.

XXXXTreme: A special model for the Quoinslend bloke who demands more from his laptop. Comes with free onboard hacksaw, 100 different drill bits, sander and jigsaw attachment; 7 different drinks holders with various slogans imprinted; homing missile device for destroying coffee and interior decoration at a distance; GPS system with "nearest jellyfish/crocodile/shark/hot chick" feature activated. Note: This model does not come out in the colours pink, purple, rainbow, paisley or spangly.

XTreme: Turner's Syndrome.

eXTreme: A model dedicated to sufferers of the ill effects of using the XXXXTreme rather than the XXXTreme to pick up chicks. Comes with free anti-depressants, booze and Valium.

SSTreme: Special model for ESL students with fascist or neo-Nazi tendencies. Comes with your choice of authoritarian paraphenalia and case logo detail. Note: This model has been withdrawn in Germany and Austria pending legal action.

MONOTreme: What do you get when you mate kissing-sluttiness-related viral illnesses with platypi? A model with hybrid appeal! Comes with free Zovirax, and an evolutionary biology diagram! Note: USB PCR device included for an extra $50,000/= (excl. GST). Primers not included.

You know what? I think we'll make a mint!


Saturday, September 03, 2005

The Worst Thing Just Happened To Me The Other Day

So there I am, sitting in my underwear in front of my computer, with the blinds up, in my room which faces the __________ Hospital Emergency Department, and happens to be on the ground floor. And so this random guy wearing a hat walks past, looking in, and before I can do anything, he does a double take, walks back and actually looks in. Then I hurriedly pull the blinds.

You know the weirdest thing? I think he was wearing a fedora!

I really should've seen that coming.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Born in the Republic of Ireland...

So, not long ago, Fog Monster and I were driving back to Melbourne from the town of Colac via a small hamlet known as Birregurra. Suddenly the words of the timeless classic "Ireland" by Tori Amos struck us as particularly appropriate:
"Driving in my Saab, on my way to Birregurra (Ireland)
It's been a long time, it's been a long time
Driving with my friends, on my way to Birregurra (Ireland)
It's been a long time, it's been a long time"
Its resemblance to the style of The Corrs came to my attention then, almost as a blinding flash- why didn't we sponsor the production of a Corrs cover of "Ireland"?

After borrowing a substantial sum from Fog Monster, I set about my dream. The Corrs, unsurprisingly, acceded to my demands almost immediately. "Ireland" soon became a number one hit all around the world, as no-one can resist hot Irish babes (and one not particularly hot Irish guy) crooning lyrics about small Swedish cars and their home country. When interviewed on Jools Holland, Rove and other silly TV interview shows that feature a loud, obnoxious host while the musicians sort of stand back, mortified, audiences were treated to a beaming The Corrs, a delighted me, and a glowering Fog Monster in the background.
"So, what inspired you and Snipergirl to make the brilliant leap from Tori Amos to the Corrs?"
"You know, Jools Holland, I still haven't gotten my money back. I have a message for the world: STOP TREATING ME LIKE A BANK."
Not long after this of course were the Irish national elections. The Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, in the style of the use of "Born in the USA" for the Ronald Reagan re-election campaign, decided to use the Corrs version of "Ireland" for the campaign to return his party, Fianna Fáil, to power. Many a TV advertisement in Ireland featured fresh-faced patriotic Irish kids hailing their tri-coloured flag to the now patriotic hymn.

Fianna Fáil was returned to power by a landslide victory.

And there was much rejoicing. Soon an interest in this historic song, this folksong of divine simplicity devoted to the love of one's homeland, the Irish Isle, overwhelmed the nation. Documentaries were made en masse. And Birregurra, the little town that could, full of real Aussie battlers who fought the good fight and birthplace of what was now almost considered the true Irish National Anthem, became a major tourist destination.

Irish patriots flooded the valley and set up Irish pubs, an Olde Irishe Village, small shops that sold those strange little traditional uniforms, a Gaelic institute, a National University of Ireland, Birregurra campus and a Royal Gaelic Hospital to service the new migrants. The population of Birregurra skyrocketed, and a special customs point and airport with daily flights to Dublin was opened. After some minimal fuss from the Australian Federal Government, who local Australian residents felt "didn't really care", Birregurra became the first and only locale in Australia to secede and become Irish territory, the Free Irish State of Birregurra.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Adventures in the Amazon

Upon discussion with the ever-present Kermit the Frog, the following scenario presented itself deep within the Amazon rainforest:
  • We are walking through one of the trails in the Amazon rainforest late at night
  • Suddenly a wombat materialises
  • I trip over the wombat and fall
  • The wombat dies
  • I hit my head and also die
  • Tarantulas and giant ants eat everyone
  • Hilarity ensues
This is not dissimilar to another supposed possibility in St Petersburg:
  • A famous military figure is riding his horse through St Petersburg
  • The horse rears up on one leg in a symbolic fashion (representing death during horseriding)
  • The militay figure falls off the horse as a result
  • The horse falls on top of the rider
  • The rider dies
  • A bus appears and runs over both of them
  • The horse dies
  • Hilarity ensues
Death on holiday has never been so hilarious!

13 Months!

So, happy 13 month anniversary as of the day before yesterday I guess, people!

More than a year!


Saturday, August 13, 2005

By Popular Request...

And now, dear readers, a post which is sorely overdue. The account of a night two months ago...


So, there we were, we being of course me, Big Girl, Predator, Pigeon-Rat, Pet0r and Kitten's Boyfriend, and the cat Se7en. After some thai and vodkas, of course the conversation got a little feisty. Turns out that there was this one time that Big Girl unknowingly put her finger up her pussy (7). Predator no like. Things of course took a turn for the more extreme.
The truth is, as many of us have suspected, that a sneeze is truly a thousanth of an orgasm. Pet0r, when sneezing, a delightful pleasure, always falls down while engaging in this activity, and thus the term fallgasm originated:
(n.) an orgasm sustained while falling (Olde Englishe).
The other truth is, as the CommuNazi suspected, far more bizarre than rumour. For Big Girl and Predator, were experiencing "marital difficulties". Thus they decided to have a threesome with TV's most famous lesbian entertainer Ellen. Then Predator and Ellen merged to form an entity known as MichEllEn. Unfortunately, Ellen fell in love with Big Girl, demerged with Predator and then proclaimed her love in the following sentence:
And then she ran away back to TV land and then went out with Portia de Rossi. They are not reported to have any more threesomes as PorshcEllen.
Later it turned out that Big Girl was really really really sexy, and liked to stroke her angina, which is like a vagina in your chest, while her pussy looked on, jealous (VII). This resulted in her having dyslexia.


Today I met up with Pigeon-Rat and Predator at the Victoria Markets. As we proceeded back to
....this broadcast is being taken over by the Predator...wahahaha....I would you you all to know the truth, dear readers, that the sweet and innocent Snipergirl that you all know is really an evil sexual predator who propositions sweet shop keepers by walking into sex shops and requesting a "glass of water". Once she has this "glass of water", and lets face it, we all know what that is a euphamism for....she proceeds to make a date with him so she may go and perform kinky acts with him the following weekend with the objects in his store. She was heard to shriek "oh my god..what is this for", quite often and will, I imagine, be expecting a demonstration next week.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Lotsa updatesa soona!

I'm going to try and update over the next few days... there's a fair bit to actually put in. Yay!

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Things I do or do not think

Firstly, for your amusement before I get into the rant, I have discovered, to my surprise, a site which actually manages to have blogs that are even whinier than those on the dreaded LiveJournal. Yes, this site is Vampire Freaks, which appears to consist mainly of whiny goths (as opposed to the non-whiny ones) in whiny goth outfits doing whiny goth activities like whining, gothing, listening to Evanesence and posting drivel of this calibre. The first thing I wondered was "get into" what? Then what "69" really had to do with music. Finally I had to agree with the owner of this blog; if my English was that bad, I would also "Want to die". The truly ironic thing of course is that this ESL Vampire is one of the top 5 rated girls on this site. One has to wonder what kind of people rate this stuff. Oh yeah, that's right, it's the Death Squad.


And so, finally, an experiment of a different kind comes to an end... Yes, that's right, for those who have been following its progress over the last few months, Dire Assassin has finally signed off, probably for good. My comments as to the success of this project are up now. It's been an interesting time. I've never written such an openly crass, self-centred and cruel character before. As a writer, I feel that I've grown as a result as in the past I would not have had the faintest idea how to begin such an undertaking. To the uninitiated, Dire Assassin was a "what if" scenario. What if there was another explanation for my behaviour, one that posited that I was, in fact, the typical career-obsessed self-centred arrogant medical student? And what then would be the responses of the readers, many of whom know me?

I was somewhat amused by many of the responses I received.

I was also fairly shocked.

It seems that much to my surprise (given my initial problems with writing the character consistently), Dire Assassin was realistic enough to be believable, to the extent that everyone actually believed it was me. And then of course there were the times that even those who knew of the cheap artistic ploy assumed that there were small hidden messages that hinted at reality. Yes, I'm looking at you, Viridiancircle ;-).

What saddens me of course were the expressions of rage, disgust and outrage which this blog invited. In many ways Dire Assassin deserved much of what she got, and the fact that it enraged people demonstrates that the character was exactly who I wanted her to be. However, what I did not expect was how personally people took what I thought was obviously not a very "me" sort of blog. I thought she was quite obviously a character with a different nature to mine. However it seems that quite a few of my friends had problems dealing with a) the separation of fantasy and reality and b) just how nasty my fake character was. As I explain on my rant, I did let small amounts of reality bleed through which accounts perhaps for what happened.

Anyway, while 2 or 3 posts are now private entries for various reasons, the experiment as a whole is staying up for your perusal!


Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Poor Taste and Progeny

I am frankly disgusted. The depths to which the people of this country descend to in raising the children of this nation disappoints me. I have discovered what I believe to be a new category of child abuse, that of "cultural abuse". This is when you expose your kids to unfortunate influences and thereby stunt their cultural, emotional, intellectual and verbal development. I believe this is a commonplace practice, and one that may not draw out the outrage that it deserves, but hopefully over time will be up there with physical and emotional abuse. Here I present to you a typical case study:
Exhibit A is a 23 year old intelligent female who is studying medicine, presenting with perceived memory loss and vague feelings of "vagueness". She cannot remember any more of the history of presenting complaint. Upon further questioning it is discovered that her male parental unit played "Meatloaf" and similar artists during her gestation and early childhood development. In fact this resulted in feelings of inadequacy regarding her father's questionable taste and a selective memory impairment of significant periods in the 80's, with particular loss in terms of cultural phenomena.

A conscious state examination revealed that she was unable to name three of Madonna's number one singles, the date on which the 80s began, copy a complicated looking diagram with "AB" and its reverse written next to each other, or even repeat the phrase "Guns 'n Roses are totally radical and awesome dude". This appeared to be a result of a hysterical state induced by the extensive cultural abuse sustained as a child, as she often winced during questioning and flat out refused to answer.

During the physical examination, Exhibit A became extremely agitated, shouting epithets such as "Stop touching me!" and "I'm calling my lawyer you pervert!" and "I'm not your bloody long case, go bother some old woman with Alzheimers on 5 North!". This correlates well with the level of cultural trauma induced; clearly trust and intimacy issues have arisen from the decades-old abuse.

In conclusion, Exhibit A, a 23 year old medical student is an otherwise intelligent medical student who has suffered clear signes of cultural abuse as a child and has signs of what appear to be memory loss of hysterical nature and severe emotional disturbance resulting in an inability to feel her up, I mean, conduct a full neurological examination. Fundi were normal. It is reasonable to assume that this cultural abuse resulted in her merely achieving a place at the most prestigious medical school rather than becoming a child prodigy who cured cancer at the age of 11.

Her ongoing issues include her memory loss, her emotional disturbance and her lawyer's fees after she finishes attempting to sue the crap out of me and failing. My management would include 15 MRI scans, those whiny self-help tapes with Earth Mothers talking in the and Enya playing in the background, a full blood examination, urea and electrolytes and several Betamax tapes from the 80s so that she can relive the memories that she has lost. And a repeat fundoscopy every 3 months until she dies.

Thankyou and goodnight.
I am appalled that this sort of abuse would occur in Australia. However after the release of my new self-help tape in 12 parts for $459.99/= each called "Cultural Abuse: Healing the Beyond" I feel that this ridiculous problem shall be brought to the wider attention of our community! Life will never be the same! 11 year olds will cure cancer!

The future will be ours, my children!

Thursday, May 26, 2005

True Sociopathy

So, less than a week after pondering the meaning of the term "sociopathy" with a certain Pet Redhead, I was to discover the true meaning of the horrors of Antisocial Personality Disorder...

For Chris Medicine and I had, in the depths of time known as "first year", "fresherhood" and "eee! so cuuute! 18 year old fresh meat!!" attended a lecture in which a lady with Beta Thalassaemia spoke to us of the problems she faced with her disease. In classic style, our decorum was something that would vanish almost as quickly as this story begins...

Beta Thalassaemia Woman: ... and so I survived more than 10 years longer than the doctors predicted.
Me (loudly): You go girl! You show those doctors!
Chris Medicine (to me): Shut up!

Beta Thalassaemia Woman: My friend, who also had Beta Thalassaemia, and I were out for sushi one day. I just went to the bathroom for 5 minutes. When I came back, she was DEAD.
Chris Medicine (to me): I wonder who ate the sushi?

And thus contemplating the past over MSN, questions regarding this exchange surely surfaced. Who did eat the sushi? Did that person develop food poisoning? Did the ß-T woman eat the sushi and then grieve? Or grieve, then eat the sushi surreptitiously? Or perhaps, bulimic-style, she stuffed her face with the sushi while sobbing in the ambulance? Maybe there was no sushi left because her friend had in fact choked on the sushi? Which led to a discussion on what the rate of death by choking actually was...

Me: My aunt died of choking secondary to her chronic renal failure secondary to her ovarian cancer. Which isn't funny at all.
Chris Medicine: Absolutely not, as there was no sushi involved.

Yes, that's right folks: we are the doctors of tomorrow. We are the future.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The Creator of the "Perpetual Dildo Machine"

Check out his majesty!

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Extraction of Foreign Objects

On this lovely Friday evening, I managed to catch up with our fair characters Araluena, Richey, Tendafoot and Sir Gawain. After a fine wander through the roads of Carlton and dinner on Brunswick Street, we made our sojourn at my residence. Thus ensconced my guests were strangely enraptured with the various implements and appliances. And in time the conversation turned to Marc the Ferret, my ferret toy, and the strange possibilities regarding ferrets and their predilection for trousers. Wondering what it would be like to fit Marc the Ferret down my pants became tiresome and thus I took it upon myself to test this hypothesis.
"It's down my pants and it's vibrating!" I claimed ecstatically.
Not to be outdone, Sir Gawain decided to insert my hairdryer into the groinal region of his trousers.
"It's hot, hard and burning!" exclaimed Araluena.
"It was more interesting meeting your hairdryer," agreed the fair but unchivalrous Sir Gawain
Then Richey took it like a man and stuck my iron down his pants...
"Tendafoot, alarm clock."
"Tendafoot, alarm clock."
"This is the bit where you say 'no way'..."
"No way."

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Prudie, Deficiently

And once again, the time comes in which to mock those who are lesser than us, in reasoning ability as well as the forum in which they air their grievances- yes, that's right, internet advice columns. When I was sent a link to the following article at the impressively mediocre MSN Slate internet magazine, I was unsure what to expect. Perhaps the kind of gratuitous narrative that seems to haunt both agony aunts and the internet, that dispenser of the cruel and unnatural. What I didn't expect (but in hindsight was quite inevitable), was quite the level of impressive mediocrity that followed.

There is just so much wrong with this advice column that it's difficult to know just where to start. Firstly, we have the subject matter: what kind of self-respecting advice columnist takes on "telling your kids that their father has been in jail" given the possibility of answering "what to do when you discover that your secret lover is not only your brother, father and granddaughter but is cheating on you with... your pet horse Pablo" or "how to fix your hydraulic dildo without waking up your grandmother"? This column is boring to the point of being surreal. Then there is the matter of the complainant's recourse to pseudo-feminist ideology in defence of her stupid and frankly guilty husband; besides which, what kind of man ends up being bitten by two skanks in a pub?

And then of course there is the none-too-intelligent "Prudie", our dim-witted agony aunt. I'm not sure how one would "finesse" a question, but I'm fairly sure that Prudie has done a rather poor attempt at it. Then of course: "Prudie hates to take issue with your theory that women are never charged because they are women, but she does"- I am not sure which is worse, the childish reference to herself in the third person or the childish terrible grammar. And of course there is her rather "imaginitive" solution to the problem at hand: there's no point explaining to your child because Daddy will be out of prison before she starts school. Never mind the fact that Daddy has to go and see a parole officer every 2 weeks, and he's not allowed within a 2-mile radius of some random chicks, and all those kids at school say mean things about Daddy. No, it doesn't matter because the moment you leave prison everyone forgets that you're actually a dangerous ex-convict. Sort of like in those "happy ever after" fairytales...

And to top it all off, the letter is signed "Prudie, analytically", after such a retarded response.

I'm speechless.

Edit: To see a compilation of the comments from this conversation go to this link. Feel free to add more to this via comments!

Monday, May 02, 2005

Bleeding Hearts

Now, this post is one dedicated to the 13 year old para-suicide market. Yes, that's right, those whiny goths who listen to Evanescence.

I've been spending far too much time on LiveJournal; the LiveJournal of course that is the headquarters of the whiny goth movement, with its endless streams of posts along the lines of "I got depressed and cried today" and "woe is me, my friends are all dead" and "I got a haircut today, and it was terrible" (it's truly amazing how many bad haircut posts there are on LJ).

So in a moving tribute to poems about wilted flowers, black lace and spiders, I present to you, my dear readers, an account of the revenge that perhaps one day we shall mete out to those peddlers of self-pity, those whores if you will of florid mock Victorian prose...

It begins when we lure interested parties into a den of horrors somewhere in an alleyway off Flinders Street festooned with such slogans as "Extentua, Princess of Gloom", "Katastrophika the Owl", "Atalectesis" and "Black Dawn: The Deathening". Drawn to the dodgy ambiance, our victims will flock, and we shall sequester them alone. And when they pause in the doorway... then BAM! Stake to the heart!
"So, who's got a bleeding heart now, you anaemic vampire wannabe!"
"Love lies bleeding" indeed...

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The Cycle of Sucking

"Pride sucks balls
Balls suck Liz
Liz sucks Seb's Abortion Views
Seb's Abortion Views suck foetus"

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Why There Will Never Be The "Viagra Dildo"

People just don't like to be reminded that they're being screwed by a drug company.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Questions of the week

"Do you think a dildo could fit in a baby's mouth?"
"Would you be psychologically scarred if you had an orgasm while breastfeeding?"
"Would you have sex with a dog... if it was a hot dog... with a big sausage?"
This has been brought to you courtesy of Roberto, Seokie and I. Crazy bastards.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Honey, I think the SUVs have reproduced...!

So, there we are, The Evil One, Seokie and I, going over to a certain Horshamite doctor's house to obtain his dog in order to take it for a walk. We check out the house and the side garden; no dog can be found.
"I guess he's not home, even though his car's in the driveway," Seokie noted. The car was actually a large silver SUV.
We decided to return later. As we walked into the hospital again, we noticed a silver SUV pull up and park. A nurse got out of it.
"Oh, I thought that was Dr K's car!"
"Yeah me too!"
"So did I..."
We looked at each other and laughed; what a coincidence. Later that day we headed back to the house. Yet another silver SUV was parked just in front of the house. Then another one drove by; this was just starting to get a little creepy. Seokie mentioned that this reminded her of a cartoon where the shopping trolleys kept multiplying every time people looked away. And sure enough, whenever we weren't paying attention, yet another silver SUV would drive past, or park or happen to pop into existence. As I recall we counted in excess of 8 or so. Creepy.

Somewhere out there, there is a very happy couple of silver SUVs parked on top of each other.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Creatures of the Night!

The Doorman: Vampire lesbians are the worst kind of lesbians! Just imagine them, munching on each other during their time of the month!
Me: Are you sure that's not werewolves?

I'm never, ever doing gynaecology.

Monday, April 18, 2005


And this is why I will never live in Mt Waverley. So we get on this train to the city, and these random idiots get on. Their conversation goes a bit like this:
"Heh heh heh. Fuck. Andrew is a faggot, Andrew is a faggot."
"Shut UP!"
"Andrew is a faggot, he takes it up the arse."
"Yeah, whatever"
"Hey, Andrew, that girl is so fucking hot, I wanna see her tits. Go talk to
"Why don't you talk to her, fucker?"
"I can't be fucking bothered. You're such a fag, Alex is doing you up the
"He so is not!"
"You're always at his place, you're so his boyfriend!"
"Hey, the last time I was at his house I was there for 5 minutes just to
pick up my $20."
"I thought it was $50 you lying cunt."

And there I am, sitting with my relatives from Sri Lanka. Including my 9 year old cousin.

Introduction to Melbourne: 101. The way people actually act and talk.


Sunday, April 17, 2005

Maths Chicks: A Dissertation

"So this one time, at maths camp, I stuck a fraction up my pussy! But I only got it in halfway and then it almost split me in half and then I did it multiple times. Then I felt whole"

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Theatrical Operations

So, there I was, sitting at our residence in Horsham, just chilling out after hours. I'm watching TV, waiting for the oven to be heated so as I can chuck the Tandoori chicken in the oven. The phone rings- it's the surgical nurse on the phone, apparently the surgeon wants to show us something in the operating theatre. No-one else from our group is around, so I quickly put the chicken in the now heated oven, set my alarm for when I need to head back after the operation to turn the chicken over, and I leave for theatre.

It's a cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder), in case you were wondering. The surgeon is halfway through the operation. He carefully dissects out the gallbladder, cutting away the surrounding fat and vessels, easing it away from the liver. Finally it comes out, red, swollen, infected. My watch starts beeping. Dammit.

So I ask one of the nurses whether there's a phone in here. I'm crossing my fingers, hoping my other med groupmates have returned home. I pick up the receiver and dial. The wrong number. I dial again...
"Hey, this is Thilini"
"Hello?" It's Nicole, one of the nursing students staying at our place
"Hey, I really need a favour... I've left something in the oven and I'm in theatre..."
So there I am, in the middle of operating theatre explaining cooking directions over the phone to this girl. Invariably the others start laughing. Especially as I have to explain these instructions about 3 or 4 times:
"No, you have to take it out now, turn over the pieces, brush them with oil, then put it back in for another 20-30 minutes!"
"Ok, I finally got it! Hey, she says do this..."
While they are finishing up an operation. To remove a gallbladder.

I was mighty hungry by the time I got home to eat.

Oh, the irony.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Friends Online!

And thus it came to be that I went out in Sydney to hang out with the gays of Newtown of a Wednesday night with a couple of people, including Ez. We ended up, after a few beers at the Zanzi Bar, where we spied a few people who we had seen at The Bank. In my rather inebriated and therefore overly chummy state, I decided that it would be a good idea to talk to these three individuals, as Ez appeared to know one of them. She however, was rather unwilling to do the same, which all things considered could have been a better decision to have made.

So I introduce myself and sit down. There was Ez's Internet Friend, a girl I can only dub ADHD Girl, and N-A- (whose profile I realised later that I had seen online). These three had all met each other on the infamous GaydarGirls site. It soon became apparent that Internet Friend and ADHD Girl had some kind of weird fuckbuddy-esque relationship, and that N-A- was in fact taking oestrogen (which she sort of did then and there). I was talking to ADHD Girl who sort of seemed possibly attractive before I talked to her, but soon after starts to appear rather hyperactive and odd. Then I ask her about what she's studying:

Me: So what are you studying? [Thinks: She seems possibly cute]
ADHD Girl: I'm studying homeopathy
Me: Oh, that sounds interesting... [Thinks: Ok maybe I'd only make out with her for fun...]
ADHD Girl: So what are you studying?
Me: Medicine
ADHD Girl: Oh, that's sort of like... *long-winded explanation in weird homeopathic jargon which basically seems to relegate medicine to some sort of odd and inferior position*
Me: Uhhh, yeah ok. [Thinks: ... If I was desperate]

Later as I recall I made a comment about doubting that I was going to pick up in Sydney. ADHD Girl puts her arm around me and smiles. I ask whether that's an offer. Internet Friend glares at me. Then those two start to make out. I look over at N-A- who comments that it's "so cute". I comment that they look like they're about 18, and about as intelligent. They retort that they're actually 20. They keep making out intermittently. I back away slowly.

Three drinks later, while talking to some randomly interesting straight people, ADHD Girl comes up and asks me whether I'm interested in N-A-. This completely knocks me out of leftfield. I say I'm flattered, but no. Then I shake my head in complete incomprehension of just how random this night has been.

Then I drink some more.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Addendum, of a Sort.

And for those who are, shall we say, derisively snorting at the comments that follow the previous post, I have a selection of quite fine non-alphebetic additions to the English language that I would like to share with you.

*** <--- This is Roberto. He's just a baby.
... <--- This is the ironically named Patience. People often use her, and she feels quite abused as a result. She feels molested when people kiss her.
&$%&$%&$% <--- This one is quite decadent. The Decadent One would not be averse to being kissed goodnight and tucked into bed. So to speak.
&%&%&% <--- This is The Gaudy One. It's quite cool, but rather Indian.

If you find my odd use of ASCII to be offensive, just think, things could be much worse! I could be Mussolini's crazy granddaughter. Or that nutcase Pim Fortuyn!

What would you all do if I was Jacques Chirac?


(Whoever is responsible for this conversation, you know exactly who you are.)

Thursday, April 07, 2005

The Gay Republic of Fiji, part two

And in a coincidental and repulsive twist of fate, dear brothers, sisters and otherwise-gendered siblings...

We have cause to begin our invasion! It seems that the decidedly Non-Gay Republic of the Fiji Islands has decided to wreak revenge on us non-heteronormative ones for our comrade George Speight's failed coup. It seems that an Australian man, and the Fijian man he slept with have pleaded guilty to homosexual acts, and face a sentence of up to 14 years in prison. We must avenge our brothers and rise up in arms! With a Gay Republic of Fiji we can offer these poor men asylum within our borders!

Viva la revolución!


It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife. It's like meeting the man of your dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife.

And fucking her.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Tales from the Outback

So, there I am, checking out some timetables for my eventual return to Horsham, and I happen to notice a certain little town called "Keith", which is some way along the road from Adelaide to Melbourne. As I happen to be chatting to Siren Elmira the Seductress at the time, I mention to him the existence of a town named after him and proceed to google it.

The results were intriguing, and shall I say, ironic, to say the least. Keith is a small, rural, agricultural town in South Australia with a population of roughly 1,200. It was founded in 1889 in the middle of a desert. No-one even moved in for another 5 years. They only had a proper BUILDING a decade later. Even so, it is older than Siren Elmira, not to mention larger. In a statement reminiscent of Ferrero's penultimate question "Can you grow vegetables in your pussy?", it turns out that "Keith is a busy grain growing centre and produces around half of Australia's lucerne crop."

I wonder if there are any wild sheep in Keith?

Some Links:

Travelmate guide to Keith
Sydney Morning Herald article about Keith

Monday, March 28, 2005

Confessions of a Back Seat Megalomaniac

I have not, until this point, outlined the life that I will pursue prior to my retirement to a dodgy apartment block with my partner in crime, Sarah. My dear friend Pet0r and I shall embark on a journey which in due time will affect the course of world history...

It begins when we patent that final universal constant, Death. The money that is raised from such an undertaking is used to purchase Greece and our new homes. I shall live in Victorian State Parliament, and commute to work by my F-18. While ruling Greece in a fair and just manner, I shall promote various associates of mine to Ministries. I shall be Citizen Thilini, Mother of Our Nation, Prince Xerxes shall be Citizen Michael, Father of Our Nation, Pet0r shall be the all powerful Prime Minister For Life, Narftroz shall be the Minister for English and Churches and Ferrero shall be the Minister of Love, while Phil opposes my tyrannical reign with his own tyrannical reign. I will institute a policy of herding the red-heads to a small Greek island, where they shall be bred in captivity to be sold as pets.

Beyond this, the future is ours to contemplate...

From Greece with love,

As ever yours,


Thursday, February 24, 2005

Best Pickup Line In the World

"You're straight, that's hot. I hate this bar, it sucks! So... how 'bout it?"

Friday, February 11, 2005

Cyberdeath and other disasters

I have, as of late, been unfortunately absent in my posting on this blog, and neglecting you, my fine readers, in the process. Bear with me as I go through what I would term "technical difficulties". In case you were wondering, you bastards, the following has happened to me since getting back to Melbourne:
  • I moved into a new place
  • The power supply in my computer exploded
  • I need a gastroscopy
  • I keep ending up at exhibition openings full of lesbians who are for once trying to pick me up

I shall update you fully on the newest happenings on my bizarre life soon-ish, hopefully within the next few days!

With love,


Friday, January 21, 2005

True Ambition

Sarah and I know exactly what we are going to do when we grow old... I will be a crazy old cat woman and she will be a crazy old dog woman. We will live in the same apartment block cursing the "young people" and throwing hard objects at them. It will appear that we are waging wars against each other but the truth is that we are doing it for our own amusement. And of course there's the ridiculously large amounts of money under the floorboards that we stash there because we used to be rich doctors but have now turned into miserly old ladies living in squalor! We will own a huge python and an iguana, and of course a huge car with a moose stuck in the fender. And some random mounted aminal heads above our fireplaces.

Unfortunately by that point Chris Medicine and Laura Evangelista will have married each other and reproduced and created hordes of evil offspring, Christa and Lauron. We will of course combat them with the many love children of the snake and the lizard, Iguon and Pythana.

Ending up old and alone has never been this cool!

Thursday, January 20, 2005

6 month and 1 week anniversary

That's right kids, it's been 6 months (and a week because my computer died and the new one took a week to arrive). This officially makes this blog the longest running writing project and almost the largest feat of writing I have ever produced.


Spontaneous Media Generation

< rant>
And in other news I am right royally pissed off with everyone not from my own generation. The baby boomers keep going on about how we, the "MTV Generation", "won't grow up"- because we're not marrying our high school sweethearts at 21, having 2.5 kids, getting a mortgage and then fucking it up and getting divorced at 40. Somehow this equates to us being collectively immature. In my opinion, it just means that times have changed. People need to have security and an income before they an afford a home and we've decided we actually want to know the people we spend the rest of our lives with first (unlike certain other people). We want to explore the world and learn and grow before we commit. I think that's a remarkably mature thing to do. And if people think playing computer games makes our generation childish, they are deluded. The games industry makes more money than Hollywood, and probably produces better quality art. In my opinion the middle-aged are once again being fusty, old and selfish. They just can't get over the idea that one day they will not be the ones running the world. Yes that's right, we're upstarts and we're taking over!

And now we get to the kids of today. They really do seem to be throwbacks to some weird and conservative era combined with this sluttiness. Then again I suppose we have to wait for them to turn 20 or whatever before we can decide on their worthiness or lack thereof. I guess back when I was 10 my generation were supposed to speak like this: "dude, like I totally saw this awesome rad stuff, like, duuuuuuuude!" Or otherwise be angsty little shits. Yes that's right, we are all either goths or surfers. I am currently annoyed about the "young people" because of some article that some dumb private school kid wrote in the Sydney Morning Herald. Thanks to her now people think young people are composed of conservative gits who just want to get married and have children while having a token career. With the woman being the primary parent of course. Because you know what, we're not the MTV generation, no, we're the 3rd wave bloody feminism generation. And guess what, apparently all girls want is commitment but evil boys with their "cohabitation" and their "pre-marital sex" have tricked innocent brides-in-waiting into *gasp* losing their virginity and succumbing to the unworthy lifestyle of living in SIN. Never mind the fact that half the girls I know just want a shag and half the guys I know want to look after their kids. No, of course the complexities of the real world don't exist if you're one of the "youth of the year 2000". And where the hell am I supposed to fit into this schema of the world? Oh that's right, I'm going to fall in love and marry another woman and have dogs and kids because that's all a woman actually wants and anyway, all lesbians are like that, down to the square haircut and hairy armpits. Turkey Baster!

I hereby declare my resignation from the MTV generation. I am now officially part of The Simpsons generation.
< /rant>

Saturday, January 01, 2005

The Infernal Web of Soul Conduits

So as it turns out, Network Admin Fangirl is not actually someone with a geek fetish. The truth is far more disturbing...

You see, Aetherfox is moving into an apartment with her. However when it seemed like he might be unable to stay for the semester, her family, oddly and disturbingly enough, seemed to think he was now somehow responsible for her. Aetherfox suddenly realised that he had entered into a bargain of the most diabolic kind.
For the truth is that Network Admin Fangirl is a soul vampire, secretly forming soul-conduits with her victims and leeching their L33t Sk1llz from them in the dead of the night! However her conduits are distance dependent- they require you to be nearby in order to work properly. This is why she wanted to move in with him!
He also cursed his hastiness in dropping his Introduction to Demonology Systems subject- though arguably the fact that he was of a technological persuasion would have rendered his magick somewhat useless. He would have to enlist the help of that famous witch of his acquaintance, the dreaded Oracle!
It came to him then that the signs had been all too clear. First his colleague Nathy had fallen prey to her charms. However he was too pale to withstand her leeching for long. Hingon however was immune- he was so pale that he had obviously been leeched past the point of further leeching by Athena- Athena was not nearly as dark when she entered college! And then of course there was Full Sexual Intercourse, Nathy's flatmate, who also was as pale as sin. Was it possible that he too had been leeched?
He wondered what direction this Infernal Web of Soul Conduits, this iwsc:// if you will would take next. Perhaps even if he was to escape, someone such as Sexy Black French Guy would take his place.

The poor bastard.