Well... a few milestones have passed me by of late... one by about a fortnight, the other by only 42 minutes.
At around a quarter to one this morning, it occured to me that this is actually the day that I celebrate the anniversary of my birth (though not the actual anniversary.)
You see (and I can tell this is going to shock DREADNOUGHT, who I have decided will be my official blogging adversary, ala Superman and Lex Luthor. I intend to initiate "throw-downs" (an African-American colluquialism meaning a "fight") by both dissing and dismissing him in various ways. These disses and dismisses will range from, "John, you think you got game? Well, let me tell you something, girlfriend, you don't have game!" to "Step up, motherfucker. Time you were taught a lesson in R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me!" Step up, motherfucker indeed! Oh, I can't stay mad at you, DREADNOUGHT! Not when you're expressing such A LOVE OF DISCO!) my actual birthday is on the 25th of December, which is the same birthday as Jesus! The reason this will (actually probably not - but he has been using roman numerals in my comments, and I feel this is an issue that warrants immediate action!) shock DREADNOUGHT, is cos I am so unlike our good Lord and Saviour, it's just not funny anymore.
Well, maybe at a casual glance... but if we inspect the lives of Dr. Cam and Dr. Jesus more closely, we will come to the conclusion that Dr. Cam and Dr. Jesus are actually HUGELY SIMILAR.
Firstly, they share the same birthday.
Anyway, the point of all this is, you cannot have a birthday party on International Santa Day! Nobody could come! They would all be preying* at the Church of Consumerism.
But March! March is a good time for a birthday party. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The donkeys are tail-less and pining.
FINE BIRTHDAY WEATHER.
Secondly, one time in around 93, when my (now ex-)fugitive father was on the run from The Man, he was staying at this place in Bunbury (WA... whales, dolphins... wine?). Anyway, the guy who owned the place owed a few people some money, and as such, was not home, but also fugitiving it about in places unknown.
Anyway, some friendly young fellows came by the place to collect monies unpaid, and when their debtor could not be found, felt they should hold my father somewhat hostage until said monies came to a state of "hey, we're paid!"
Anyway anyway, I showed up with a bottle of scotch and some other stuff for my old man, and found this fascinating situation, which I was forced to remedy with a little bit of old fashioned violence.
Throwing moneylenders out of the house of my father, anyone?
Can you dig that I just made that up?
Anyway... that's one milestone right there.
What's the other one?
The one that we missed by around a fortnight?
Well, I'm about to tell you!
Two years and a bunch of days ago, I started blogging!
I was a little concerned about how to start... should I introduce myself? Should I have an introduction? Would an introduction be necessary?
No. No. Not really... This was my first entry, jumping into the deep end with a bit of absurdist pondering:
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Well... you see, the thing is...
I've never met anyone called Janet before.
But that's not the point, really.
The point is, I've never blogged before. I always wanted to try, I'd say to myself, "Damn, I'm sexy, I should blog about how damn sexy I am" but then I'd be like, "But, oh, I've never blogged before, the big, bad, well established blogging folks would eat me alive. They'd freaking chew me up and spit me out.
Blog, blog, blog.
Just in case I wasn't using the word enough.
Anyhoo, I was on the Js website when I saw the little thing about blogging, and I thought, well goshdarnit, I might as well give this dang thing a try.
So I did.
Anyway, that was the point. The thing which is not the point is this... I've never, ever, ever met anyone called Janet. That occured to me but a few seconds ago, and I find it strange. I've been around the world, I've lived in heathen lands... but I've never met anyone called Janet. It's pretty messed up.
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That Janet thing is still true.
Wait a second! That's not true at all! I'm a filthy fucking liar! I have met someone called Janet... I knew a Janet from since 1998.
Fuck, we were off to a brilliant start.
This was shortly followed in no short order by this post, which goes some way to explaining the name of both that blog, and my description of this one:
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Ah... piracy...
Scourge of the... people... who are robbed by pirates...
*a lone tumbleweed drifts across the prairie*
Mmmmhmmmm.
Anyhoo, the thing is this. Many people in high school have eating disorders, mental illnesses, anxiety etc. I don't. But... and here's the catch, and please excuse any spelling errors, because I'm not looking at the screen while I type this, due to the freaking coolness of the roof (It has little glow in the dark stars on it)... the catch is this. I still have to hear about it. Just in case I do start experiencing anxiety, and go to school with a gun and start pumping round after round into my math teacher. (Luckily, I have neither a gun, or access to a gun, or the urge to kill, or a math teacher... hurrah for yayness)
Anyhoo, because of this hearingness that I have to do, I was forced to endure an hour of dramatic evil. Seriously, what the hell is Bush doing pissing off North Korea, when this play about the aforementioned possible teen problems is wandering about, wreaking havoc and good vibrations.
Anyhow, it wasn't so bad, but it had one thing lacking.
No, it had two things lacking. If there was, like, a mock suicide at the end, it would have been freaking cool.
The important thing it was lacking though, and this is where this whole post comes together, was a pirate.
Like, he wouldn't have been a main character, but, y'know, he would have supplied comic relief.
For instance, he could have said, "Arrr.... I'm so fat." or "Arrr... I'm just a lonely pirate, won't nobody love me?" or "Arrr... 'tis a fine vessel." etc.
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Drugs, Pirates and Orange Juice.
See, we'd had to watch this stupid little play put on by a travelling band of Christians (I also wrote a great speech about this, which I read at assembly... Unfortunately, the use of such words as "wack" and "fly" to describe things cost me the prize. I'll see if I can find a copy somewhere. Don't hold any hope out for this though. It was probably written on a scrap of paper, sometime shortly before I read it out.)
They were all, DRUGS ARE BAD! DEPRESSION IS BAD! OTHER TEEN PROBLEMS, BAD! Find solace in the words of JC, homes.
Like, I said, sorely lacking in pirates.
That's the Drugs and the Pirates covered... I just really like orange juice. It's my favourite juice in the whole world.
Let's see... What else did this little baby have going for it?
Insightful Political Commentary!
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Did I mention that Roger Marks is a tool?
Ah, yes, I did.
"Children need to be told the truth about a just war.
Much to my surprise, my students at school want to talk about the war. I have discussed it with most of my classes and some have asked for further discussions. They, like so many others, have been fed a line by the social gurus, academics and performing arts mafiosi.
It was my pleasure to unravel the fiction and tell them the truth. Such things as: No, thousands of bombs are not being dropped on women and children. The targets are military. No, it is not an oil war. The US only has to remove sanctions to get Iraq's oil. No, it is not a war against Iraqis. They are welcoming the liberation from a brutal dictator the US will bring and the opportunity to put in place a democracy.
I told them how Australian Iraqis demonstrated in Sydney last week for the war. I told them about Iraqi troops who are refusing to fight the Americans. I told them that Iraqis in Australia believe that war is bad but Saddam is worse. I told them that Saddam has ordered the murder of his own people, probably more in a day than what will be affected by the whole war. I told them how he ordered the torture of a two-year-old girl to make her reveal where her parents were. I told them that he gassed 200,000 Kurds because they were not part of his plan. I told them that he ordered the murder of members of his own family.
The lines fed by the factually challenged, and reported by the media, are upsetting children. The truth is helping them understand the real issues, and this has renewed their pride in Australia and made them feel good about themselves again.
Roger Marks, Drouin"
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Hahahahaha! He still is a tool! Performing Arts Mafiosi indeed...
The rest is just assorted drug use and hijinx!
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Nutmeg... what a fucking crazy drug.
Firstly, it was 8pm, not 8am. Secondly, I really need to get a stash of proper drugs. Firstly, nutmeg is too unstable. I have no idea what sort of trip it will give me - sometimes it's all sensory, sometimes I hallucinate wildy. Secondly, I have no idea of dosages. I've been told that a good number is a couple of teaspoons... I had two tablespoons last night, which is pretty close to the O.D. level... apparently.
Really, as many before me have postulated, nutmeg is the drug you consume when no other drug is available. I must say though, I'm somewhat curious about this heat thing that I was talking about in the previous post. I remember my back did become quite warm, and I jokingly asked my fellow companions if they had set my chair on fire... other random spots (a patch on my chest, on the centre of my head) also became warm... what was with that?
Thirdly, the aftereffects are a bit much... The trip tends to outstay its welcome... when I wake up, I want to be straight again, you know. Fourthly, it takes too long to kick in... Far too long. How am I supposed to know what I'm going to be doing in 5 hours? A lot can happen in 5 hours. Oh, well...
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And that is that! Happy 2 Years and 12 Days Anniversary, Dr. Cam.
Thanks, Dr. Cam!
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*Intentional mis-spelling, cos I feel like since I'm addressing a neo-con (so called, cos it sounds cool.) I should be way more leftwing than I actually am. Other examples of this strange phenonema include me talking to some Swedish guy while I was in NZ last month, and really amping up the Ocker. Seriously. I said Strewth. And I meant it.
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