I get embarrassingly frustrated when people don’t like things to the same level as I do.
For instance - the moon. I fucking love the moon and it drives me crazy that people generally talk more about your sister’s friend Justine than they do about the moon.
Did you ever see a hot air balloon in real life? It’s fucking magical. Well - the moon is basically doing the same thing every day but way way cooler.
It’s a gigantic spherical rock floating around us while we float around something else. The moon is what Xzibit would install if he were asked to pimp Earth.
And some dudes went up there!! You know that excitement when you see a guy at a music festival climb up scaffolding and you don’t know whether they’re going to die or become the coolest guy at the party? Times that by 38000.
It was like the greatest stage dive of all time - the moon being the stage and us being the audience. And they pretty much just rocked it maaaan.
I feel equally passionate about Starbust Squirts. They’re fucking incredible and don’t get the attention and credit they deserve.
I hate the phrase “at least he’s genuine”.
If we don’t stop describing people as ‘genuine’, they’re going to have to change the meaning of the word to “guy who’s too dumb to realise he offends people most times he talks”
“I actually prefer watching videos with a lower bit rate”
Can we stop telling kids to follow their dreams?
It’s getting awkward.
From preschool to high school and every Disney movie ever, adults told my friends and I that we should ‘do what we enjoy’. So we did that and now Australia’s DJ to Accountant ratio is, frankly, out of control.
Older generations are freaking out because no one is getting a proper job. Especially white men aged 20-25. Seriously though, what did you expect? You spent the last 25 years telling us to do what we enjoy and that money isn’t the secret to happiness - all you need is love. You know what we love, which guarantees no burden of evil money? Video games and marijuana.
Older generations found it so easy to tell kids ‘to do what they enjoy’, because they never tried it. It makes sense at face value - fun job = fun time. The problem is, anything you enjoy doing becomes 80% less fun once someone starts paying you to do it. That’s the nature of work.
Telling kids to get a job doing something they enjoy is terrible advice. If you manage to get paid for doing what you enjoy then you no longer enjoy it and you have to spend all that money finding something new to enjoy. No wonder Lindsay Lohan is a meth addict. She was the star of a Herbie movie and Mean Girls, a film written by Tina fey. I can’t imagine a funner life, but because that was her job, it wasn’t fun for her anymore. She was being paid to be in Disney movies and she turned to meth - the only thing funner than Disney.
I know so many kids following their dreams these days that the only way to get respect from your peers is by giving up i.e.
“Did you hear Jason quit acting?”
“Oh really!? Good on him. That’s fantastic. What’s he doing?”
“He’s doing marketing or something for AGL”
“Oh man. Such a smart guy. Anyway, I better be off to that stand up gig I’m doing in Springvale for a free coke”
Telling kids to get a job doing something they enjoy is the laziest possible way to prepare them for the work force. I wish my teachers had taught me to approach work with the opposite mindset. Rather than slowly having the joy of an activity ringed dry though the monotony of work, get a job doing something you already hate and then feel the satisfaction of success and hard work once you start getting good at it. Spend 5 years learning to love something rather than slowly finding out that you actually hate what you love.
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TLDR: it’s your fault mum!
Whenever I see a guy from my high school wearing a suit in a Facebook photo, they’re never just wearing a suit. They’re never just going to work or at work or after work. It’s always a guy about to go to a horse race and they’re always making a face that says “Woah-ho, look at me. I’m wearing a suit! Me!? In a suit! Ooh la la”.
You’re 25 and white! You’re supposed to wear suits now. Some 25 year olds wear suits every day. Why is this still funny to you? I defended my public school education for years and you’re ruining it.
Dressing as ‘an adult’ is not an option for a costume party anymore.
I too only ever wear suits to weddings and funerals, but come on, for the sake of Kenmore High, just pretend it’s not the only suit you own.
[video]
Just a photo director Matthew Saville took of me waiting to film a sexy scene. I call this photo ‘Paid for by Australian Tax Payers’.
Diagram A (Src: A Little Princess)
I just had slight mental breakdown over something I saw at the ‘cool’ cafe up the road.
Fitzroy, Melbourne is the type of town that messes with your moral conscience. There are a lot of homeless guys around and a lot of hipsters around. More than once I’ve envied someone’s sweet 80s jacket and only moments later had the same guy ask me for two dollars. Worse than that I’ve felt sympathy for a scruffy bearded guy, before noticing he was wearing my same $200 ‘going out shoes’ IN THE DAY TIME.
It doesn’t help that each group chooses to congregate only 100m away from each other. Homeless on the corner of Smith and Stanley St - Hipsters at The Grace Darling Hotel on Smith and Peel St. It’s an identical scenario except the homeless prefer a classier drink.
In spite of everything you’ve heard on The Biggest Loser, I’ve actually found a way to hate myself more by becoming healthier.
I’m playing myself in this TV show ‘Please Like Me’. I’m supposed to look like me. I, myself, have a funny body. It’s thin on top with a belly that makes me look like a snake with a half digested pile of Snack Pack inside it.
The show is a comedy. Next to my attractive lady co-star, the shittier my body, the funnier the scene. Every step I jog is making the show 0.1 percent less funny.
I know all this, but I can’t do it. I can’t handle people seeing it. Somewhere inside I have some sense of dignity or possibly even some type of ego that wants to fool the public into thinking I don’t fucking love salt, fat and sugar inside my mouth heaps. It’s pathetic.
What’s especially sad is that I have a girlfriend. I’ve had one for over two years. I’ve never done this for her. I won’t even do light exercise to make to it easier for her to love me, but with the slightlest risk of shirtlessness on the ABC and I’m out the door 9am everyday with every other Melbourne housewife doing squats in the park and lunges on the benches.
Snack Pack
Last night my girlfriend and I dressed as John Lennon and Yoko Ono for a Beatles party.
It was fun, but just a word of warning, if you ever think to yourself “I’m going to have a themed party” remember what you’re actually saying is “I’m going to make everybody have a shitty Saturday searching for a costume, hating me more and more every minute”.
I nailed the costume in the end. My frail figure and pointy nose really came in handy with the Lennon costume. My girlfriend, Elise, was really impressed. Too impressed.
When she saw me she said “Oh my god. You are so getting sex tonight” *
That would be SO good if it wasn’t for the fact I was basically dressed as a nineties beat poet. I was donning John’s later look. All black, turtle neck skivvy and circle sunglasses.
Is that what MY girlfriend finds attractive? Because yes I looked like John Lennon, but I also looked exactly like Steve fucking Jobs.
She denies it, but I’m convinced the real reason she found me so attractive in the costume was simply because I DIDN’T LOOK LIKE ME. She was transfixed by my transformation, not into a better looking man, just another man.
To get her back, this morning I April Foolsed her by convincing her I had testicular cancer.
Spin-off story:
The Beatles party was fun, but Elise drank too much gin and ended up crying because there were other Yoko Onos there who were, and I quote, “Actually Asian”.
*I didn’t.