Roman calendar originally was determined by the cycles of the sun and moon.

Hello and welcome to....Mo-Vember* aka November, also know as Ho-vember, see also month which dutifully follows Rock-tober. Yes its a free for all. Corporations, practical jokers and radio funny men alike have taken to the re-naming of our lunar calendar like a fat kid to a cake.

I have to admit its a pretty delicious notion - I mean why maintain the ancient Roman Calendar anyway - its not like Julias Ceaser and his merrier orgiastic Empire were all that special right? I mean sure they sorted transportation, sanitation, entertainment and alike, but the Calendar who needs it. We work on our own time in the 21st Century.

*Mo-vember: a month dedicated the growing of a "tache" so many choices.

I'll miss you rock_tober

Mine is Pink

IKEA. Bloody hell what a brilliant concept.
Its good. My word is it good, you can pick up knives and forks for $12 bucks, tables in a variety of metrosexually acceptable colours for $29 bucks (mine is pink), and door mats for under $6.

The genius however lies not only in the affordability of the pseudo Swedish gear, but also in the design of the store. Picture me , a vision of capitalist Australia, wearing my imported Brazilian thongs, overpriced Tshirt, a credit card neatly tucked into my shorts pocket. I've come to buy a lamp - "sweet lamps are in aisle????" - but there are no aisles - no- lets not be able go where we bloody well want. Lets set off on an Ikea parade weaving its way from lounge suites, to kitchen via bedding through a virtual crowd of eye catching euro-esque designed bargains. Its so damned Scandi that despite the 33 degree heat outside I found my thoughts recoiling to the safety of a mind powered sauna where they spent the next 40 minutes talking BMW's with a fat naked guy and 2 busty blonde clones.

Arriving finally at the inevitable conclusion - cash registers. I came for a lamp. I leave with a pink table, 20 bulbs, a bath mat, 12 pieces of cutlery called 'DFUNKT' and a swivel chair that will be like building lego for +5's that I now have to piece together. (all of which costs less than my weekly food bill)

I love Ikea - so does my credit card...Its already told me what it wants for x-mas..

Air Guitar, Hairspray and a Dopey Smile - The Life & Times of Andrew G

Andrew G...

Why do i hate thee?

Fellow who makes many 14yr old girls happy on channel V

Your insipid smile, cheeky grin, styled stubble, or blow dried locks,

Oz Idol real TV job.... you're top of the pops

So anyway he won "Cleo Bachelor of the Year"...

Andrew G's acceptance speech (grinning inanely - with one of those big plastic cheques for $10K in his hand) ".......wow..what a surprise...As there are so many guys {referring to fellow studdly competitors) here who spend so much more time in the gym than me......"

What should have happened next - 20 really massive gym buffed animals swash buckle the stage and beat Andrew G to a pulp....

Sure Andrew G, but not nearly as much time in front of a mirror having their hair treated, teased, blow dried...etc etc.etc.

PUNK

Magic - Does it really happen?

Inspired into thought as many of us are by the wondrous gems of human truth which adorn some drivers' bumpers. I have often wondered at my favourite "magic happens" - truth be told i do consider myself a spiritual fella, I mean I read the Celestine prophecy once upon a time, smoked pot and inhaled, I have visited the Crystal castle in Byron Bay, hell I even have a soft spot for dolphins...but no revelations to date - so bearing that in mind does magic really happen....?

Its an amazing notion to behold... Magic - popular culture loves it, think Harry Potter, David Copperfield and other pseudo magic stuntmen like David Blane. Basically a bunch of commercial magic tinged hacks- not a magic potion or staff amongst em. Its sure as shit nothing the likes of magic that made the hard ass battle scarred knights of ye olde round table quake in their steel boots... Take that harry...

Anyway what's my point - Magic Shmagic
Peace Love & Pragmatism.

Blanky, Blanky..

deserved of an entry... but i feel cruel.
I dedicate this entry to my favourite fool.

Cats.... are everywhere

Outrage -

The Cat Empire - well they must have had some pretty grandiose notions to take on a name like that… just imagine, 10 or 50 (probably stoned students), sipping tea, playing Uno and talking philosophy in a café somewhere, listening to John Mayer CD's..."hey we're so artsy, and have heaps of friends - lets start a hip-hop/jazz/reggae/Left wing/pop band!!". And they were born – 10 or 50 blind little kittens all scrapping to get their collective pink mouth onto the lucrative teats of the Australian music buying public.

In a fortnight where skinny, naked cats have haunted the email airwaves, and my inbox is a mess with "pussy jokes" haha, the Cat Empire is slowly, surely and ridiculously gaining popularity. Even as I type, kids who would well advised to be out there buying up Michael Jacksons' back catalog, (before he is put to jail for ever!!, are being corrupted- their poor little ears infected with the poppy diatribe of acts like Darren Hayes, Shannon Knowles and of course the evil Cat Empire themselves.

Its not like music was better when I was a kid - hell no. Fortunately, I myself have managed to overcome the hurdles present in my own musical growth phase, I have learned to suppress the icky sentimentality those years of abuse by Abba and the Carpenters did to the nostalgic nodes of my own brain.

Yes and I can now afford the luxury of laughter - because I know where you, the Cat Empire belong… Indeed, back in your acrid Litter box.

A story I wrote for a Sydney Radio Station, and which will never be printed, beacuse its too esoteric

Days of our FBi lives

Welcome to Days of Your FBi lives where we’ll be taking glimpse into a day in the life of 3 FBi listeners. Here are their stories;

8AM on Sydney’s Far North Shore Dawn, a smooth dressing 20 something Internet advertising executive, is a pin-striped blur as she scampers from café to car. Brandishing a Café latte she is every bit a picture of rushed professionalism. It’s only when pulling away from the curb into the bumper to bumper madness that subtle cracks begin to show in her smooth corporate demeanor. Her frustration increasing, it’s a car bearing a faded Triple M bumper sticker whose excessive lane changing threatens to push her over the ragged edge today. Suddenly as if awakening from a carbon monoxide slumber Dawn lunges for the stereo - instantly the voice of “that chic that does the early morning shift” - Jess Keeley replaces the cacophony of commuter chaos - gently transporting Dawn from the smog of Drive time to an ever more desirable FBi tinged ambience. For Dawn FBi is “Better than coffee… assists in keeping road-rage at bay”

At a decent hour and across the bridge in the Eastern suburbs the young and devastatingly attractive Chrissie, 23, has once again risen late as if the way of a student and is late for class. Oblivious to the outside world and lost in a bubble of radio bliss, her vessel is suddenly and violently interrupted by the snarling sub sonic vibrations of a fellow motorist. Her initial shock is further compounded by the realization that her world is being invaded by the bubble gum pop unleashed on her by a virtual armada of subwoofers, midranges and tweeters and worse still is soon followed by “shamelessly plugging of crappy products and lame-arse jokes” – as the decibels wash over her like the foul breath of a prehistoric monster her musically discriminating ears recoil. Finally the offender pulls away taking its cargo of bleating pop and inane chatter with it and leaving Chrissie with her sometimes minty and always discerning FBi; what that means to her is “No bullshit! Just chilled, easy listening, at all hours of the day”

Later that evening Harry a 27 year old documentary producer, is in a buoyant mood having recently received accolade for his work on ‘The Lives of Hungarian Squirrels’ an original masterpiece where that he had to live in a Hungarian wood for six months. Entering his home he expunges the squirrels from his thoughts and flicks on the stereo. With about an hour to kill he tunes into FBi hoping to catch his favorite FBi show “Crate Diggers”. Tonight’s show is dedicated to the relatively unknown Electronic sub-genre Vox-Yodel, a musical style which he discovered whilst back-packing through the Austrian Alps some years ago, and an experience he considers life changing. Later still… and satisfied that his passion for Vox-Yodel was a brief and misguided youthful phase - best forgotten, Harry heads out – along with “how great crate diggers was”, oddly Alvin the Chipmunk and a bunch of Yodeling Squirrels fill his thoughts…


Thanks to…the volunteers

Girls in hats

Honestly I have always had a major thing for girls in glasses - i'm not really sure why, but a woman lookijng at me behind a two small squares of perfectly curved glass causes me to go me weak at the knees... perhaps its the tiniest possibility I could make her steam up that holds so much erotic promise??..... of better still i think its that extra dimension that makes it so sexy - -

anyway to all the four- eyed beauties every where...rock on.

Oh and i saw a beautiful girl in a hat on Friday.. hats are good too.