Etiquette and Coffee, served with Turkey

- - - - - Etiquette = Restoring decorum to an otherwise feral world - - - - -

Mens Toilet Etiquette is what happens if there is already a male at a urinal and means you must go to the urinal furtherest from him.

And if all spots are taken and you’re catching up with a friend from high school, DO NOT stop mid pee and shake your neighbours hand…Chris this means you.

Elevator Chi is what you get when you’re in the lift and you subconciously redistribute yourself so that everybody is evenly spaced out. Like you’re ensuring good ‘Elevator Feng Shui’ and that is very thoughtful of you really…thanks.

An example of bad chi. Guitarist should be further to the right. Unless he’s serenading someone and the guy on the left is holding the amp to his guitar in which case he cancels out bad chi…but then there’s no chi at all. This is a bad example of bad chi really…

I’m surprised I wasn’t able to find a non-diagram example but I assure you this is something everyone has programmed in their belly button which, when you work on the 13th floor at work, is hilarious to watch.

- - - - - - Pocativets - - - - - -

Someone wake me up and tell me that Kopi Luwak is all a bad dream. Coffee from the butt of a Civet, which looks like a possum and is nicknamed a cat. These creatures eat coffee berries and excrete highly expensive coffee. HOW DO I FIND SHIT LIKE THIS TO BLOG ABOUT? I dunno. But there’s a cafe in Brisbane that sells this coffee at $50AUD a cup. This is expensive shit y’all!! LITERALLY.

Kopi Muncak (also Kopi Muntjak) is a similar koffee made with the same principle but shat out by deer instead of civets. Mmmm….Venison shit.

- - - - - What Turkish People call a Turkey-bird? - - - - -

Just to clarify…

My closest friend is the brilliant Turkish woman above who filled me in on the history of Kaka Koffee so it’s only fair that this last part is dedicated to her. This is for you Nes…

I had a follow up question for her, what’s the Turkish word for Turkey? I felt it was a pretty easy question to be honest. But she got stumped, which is HILARIOUS. Then she sent me this story because she told me in Turkey they call Turkey-birds ‘Hindi’. And I was like What tha?

And then the story goes; there was a common misconception in Europe that these birds came from Indian Merchants from India’s Malabar Coast. Turkey wasn’t the first place to name the bird after India, most scandanavian countries did that too.  In India AND Portugal they call Turkeys ‘Peru’, in Macedonia they called Turkeys ‘Egypt’, in Malaysia the word for Turkey roughly translates as ‘Dutch Chicken’.

uh...?

Confused? Me too.

But at the end of the day what happened is this; No one fucking knew where these birds came from. African’s called it indian, indians called it peruvian and peruvians called it african.

So from tomorrow onwards I’m calling chickens…Cambodia.

B to tha LING

You know what? I like it…I like that you can add bling to a mouse. In it’s own fugly way it’s like a tribute to Michael Jackson. Like, every time you click a link it’s in memory of MJ. On top of which, the one we saw at our local Electronics store comes with a mousepad AND Bling Calculator. Blingculator…ok ew’ that sounds dirty….but BLING.

And then I got back to work and did a google search and there’s also Bling-otape and Blingstaplers!

BLING BLING out the wahzoo!! That is…if your wahzoo is made out of stationery. In which case…see a doctor…yesterday

And NOW we’re thinking if this was for work purposes then we could also get the BLING headphones to wear at work and our ensemble would be complete. There’s a fine fine line between accessorizing and looking like a transvestite, don’t you think?

My workmate Danny says if he got one he’d buy the sequinned glove to go with his clicking hand. That way it’s a genuine tribute. And that’s what Danny is like. Genuine.

Next stop…THIS

Aye Aye, Cap’n Blob Turducky

An AYE-AYE,  so pretty they named it twice. Just think, if this is how you look on your BEST day…what’s there to aim for? It’s a lemur…beemur moe mee-mur fee fie foe femur, LEMUR.

I found it because I’m following Bill Bailey on Twitter and he reckons he looks like one. Bill Bailey…I say nay. You’re more than an AYE-AYE. You’re my FAVOURITE Aye-aye.

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I thought of looking up other fugly animals for the world to enjoy but that’s been over-blogged by others already so instead i’ll cut to the chase and simply post the creepiest one that I can’t get over because it’s native to this country i call home, but no one i know has seen one…yet, i haven’t completed the survey.

The BlobFish

This giant snot-head is made of gelatin…(Jell-O anyone?) It’s like Allah or Glinda (?) ripped someone’s face off and added fins.

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And THEN one of the cutesy bakery stores near work tried to sell me a black-bun thing that SMELT as disgusting as it looks….true story. However, the blogger whom i got the above picture from apparently LOVES it and it’s all garlicky and buttery. Butter’s not what comes to mind when I look at it.

Then I read the comment she got for her post and the commenter said they also love chicken pu***. I think my doubts are justified.

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Making up my own word attempt #4: Scoobies = Scones in the shape of boobs. I baked them. They were delicious. And then MrSketchy comes along and says NOoOoOo, Scoobies is another name for drugs. Which…considering I baked something men love so dearly, I felt was applicable.

Making up my own word attempt#28: Chestikons = Like enemies of the bakery Autobots that are anti-boob-shaped-scone.

Making up my own word attempt #30: Nufunee = a joke that’s no longer funny because you’ve had to explain the gag. I checked Urban Dictionary. It doesn’t exist. Joke spoilers. Yeah. That does exist. Fine. I’ve just discovered I’m the butt of my own word attempt. Good on me.

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Protesters are very passionate. There was a protest recently and so many people showed up and there was picketing and signs and yelling and police standing outside government house.

What there wasn’t was politicians. Or in fact, government house wasn’t even open. It was Sunday. Where was our Prime Minister? He was playing golf. Which made the paper.

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I found this at my local shopping centre, which is great if you like abstract arty farty stuff. But SHITE when all you wanna do is sit the fuck down because you’ve been walking all day and then when you sit on the duck you burn your arse.

Just an observation. My arse remains unburnt.

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We went for drinks the other day and the freaking birds were attacking us. I think they were my great-grandmothers reincarnate. Because after they clearly disapproved of my hair they then sat on the rails next to me and proceeded to watch me drink…all the while NAGGING.

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Kylie says that everything sounds better when you add ‘y’ on the end. Mmmm…..Delicious-y.

What do you think?

Spears, Hilton and Angus.

Before you ask, no I’m not a fan. Of Britney Spears OR Paris Hilton. And although they introduced a new generation to the delights of drug use and ‘oops-I-leaked-my-sex-tape’ as well as increased our vocabulary with words ‘Like’ and ‘Totally’ and ‘Whatever’ and ‘Frienemies’. I’m not going to bag them though. (heh) They just need to fire their stupid promoters who’re currently getting angry at the wrong things! (apparently).

For example: Britney Spears’ promoter is angry about ‘lies regarding her Australian tour’. Now the headline said he was angry over her lip-syncing lies and THIS, I agree, would be something to be angry about. But that’s not why he was angry. He was angry because the media reported that people walked out of the concert. Oh yeah! Riiight. It’s okay if we say she’s a fake singer who’s Milli Vanilli’d her way through the country on tour. That’s fine.

Just DON’T say fans walked out. That’s so rude.

And in a related article Paris Hilton’s promoters are threatening to sue over using her photograph to promote a billboard. So clever kiwis have decided in an attempt to get people to rent their billboard, to post a photograph of Paris and write VACANT underneath. *evil laugh. But OH NO, that’s not what her promoters are angry about. They just want to make sure the agency has taken care of the rights to this image of Paris. It’s okay if you’re calling her a blonde with a vacant brain, we’re cool with that.

Just DON’T post it on your billboard if you don’t have the rights to do so. How rude.

Am I missing something?

The Horror, The Karma, The Window Washers and my breakfast.

Had a REALLY bad dream last night. Possibly because I was watching ‘True Story’ Crime stuff on TV. He didn’t just kill her, he threw her off a cliff so hard she was wedged between the rocks down below. And then I changed the channel just in time to watch a man who tried to rob someone and killed him. Then his wife and 2 kids came home and he kidnapped them and tied them up in the bush. Then he raped the wife in front of the kids (4 & 7). Then he drove them to the middle of nowhere to leave them behind. Then he came back and murdered them all and drove around with them in his boot. Went drinkin. Went home & cleaned up.

Then I dream I’m saying really horrible stuff to one of my cousins. So horrible she says to me ‘just fucken die’. This is why I don’t watch horror movies. They take me to a dark place that I find hard to kick. It can ruin my mood for aaaages.

So this morning I thought NO. And I did star jumps to Donna Summer. And I left posters on my office windows saying ‘Thank You Mr. Window Washer’. Window washers don’t get thanked enough, don’t you reckon?

Then I go downstairs for my morning coffee & cigarette. And as I walk down the stairs I fall. And it was one of those ’slow-mo’ falls where I’m thinking ‘SHIT! We’re going down. ABORT! ABORT!’

And I manouver myself to ensure I fall on my butt and it WORKED. So I’m sitting there all in shock thinking…it worked, no bruises, no cuts, euphoria that’s like the BEST way to fall. And, incidentally, one of the ‘better cushioned’ spots anyhoo. And everyone’s looking at me worried until they see the glee on my face because of my triumphant choreographed stackjob!

AND THEN, I go for my morning brekky and the lady gives me a free hash brown with my muffin & coffee!

Sometimes Karma. I really heart you.

Manty Liners? (Mennified Products Part II)

So we do the respectable Friday-arvo-drinks. The air is humid. The beer is chilly. The brilliance of the company I keep is about to be made apparent. You know what’s so brilliant about my friends? I can give them the most random, fucked up theories and they’ll TOTALLY run with it and come up with random, fucked up ways to make them funny. I don’t even have to TRY, people. It’s just how we roll.

So I mention how I’m still having issues accepting ’society’s mennifying (maleifying?) products’ that were previously designed for women. And I get to my punch line of manpons totally exist and then I had to explain exactly what they are. Gross. So here’s a recap.

This is a Manpon packet. Pine-scented.  Actual plugger stuff.  - Manpon Number 1.

Here’s The Original Manpon Mentholated Napkins - Manpon Number 2

Okay so the reason there are two versions, and seriously I CANNOT believe I’m explaining this, is because of some syndrome guys have called LBS (Leaky Butt Syndrome). It’s what happens when you’ve been out all night drinking, gone to the toilet 4 times in the last 4 hours, and don’t want to leak diarrhoea on your boxers. So you use Manpon number 1.

The second reason these are used is because of something I’m gonna call BSS (Butt Sweat Syndrome) where basically you’re at the gym, you’re at a concert, the place is overcrowded and you don’t want that to show on your pants. So you use Manpon number 2. Which Kylie says should be called Manty Liners.

I would agree that Manty Liners is a catchier name for Manpon2. Because Manpon1 stays true to the original shape of its female counterpart. But we. Should. Not. Be. Encouraging. This.

And so Chris decides he’s going to ‘get on board’ and purchase a few manty liners for the next gig he’s going to. Incidentally he’s the only male involved in this conversation. I don’t know if this makes him bold or foolish, impressive or maybe he just over shared what could have been an otherwise privately wonderful experience.

And we, as the three women in the conversation, had more questions about said ‘pon.

- How often do you change a manpon?

- Do you have ‘Light, Regular or Heavy’ Manty Liners?

- Is that what the spare pockets on your Cargo Pants are for?

- Is it weird if you ask your mates if they have any spare?

- Do you get this once a month?

- And how many…How many songs can you add the words Manpon or Manty Liner to which eventually makes it sound like perverted double entendre??

The answer to the last one is, A LOT.

Mennifying Products

I have had enough of cross-dresswear. The Mennifying product trend of late.

Scent candles for Men. Also known as MANDLES. This trend is growing increasingly popular, with such whiffs as Skunk, Campfire Breakfast and a witty whiskey whiff (say <that 5x fast) named Jim, Jack & Johnny.

The Mantyhose Trend. With the tagline: We are the REAL men in tights!

The Mirdle Trend. With the tagline: the love handle buster.

What’s next? Manpons?

P.S. Okay I totally just looked up Manpons and they exist. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! It’s like I don’t know you anymore, man.

You’ve changed. You used to be cool.

My brain is TOTALLY named Brian

A bit of background info which is TOTALLY important, hence I put it FIRST. I, the Muser, have (or rather, HAD) PCOS. Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. It’s where my body has defied me in thinking I’m a male and therefore I create way too much testosterone. Its okay now…turns out my pelvis was twisted which cut off my girlie hormones. All ‘fixed’. Bless you chiropractors!

Secondly, to protect the innocence of the friends who helped me come to the conclusion that my brain is named Brian, I have changed their names. Julie is so named because she makes Jewellery…geddit? Jewel-ee? I KNOW!?? I’m fucking brilliant. And well…I think John wouldn’t mind.

Transcript of today’s chat session, thus resulting in my brain being named Brian…ENJOY!

Me: OKAY, I need to ask you something that may be taken out of context considering what we’ve just been talking about but…

WHAT is wrong with my brain? Because you see as John’s telling me about his mother being airlifted and being in hospital and talking slowly and him being there last night etc.

YOU as an honoured caring friend would have been listening and oohing and awing and you know, general all round caring fluff but ME

SOMETHING is wrong with my BRAIN what I said was

a) You should be at the hospital because there could be a fair amount of ‘talent’ there i.e. gay nurses and

b) when your mother is in this condition well…it’s the PRIME TIME to ask her all those questions you’ve wanted to but she didn’t want to answer or say yes to like ‘Can I buy me a trail bike Ma?’

”Julie”: LOL

Me: WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?

”Julie”: there is nothing wrong with you, you’re just trying to make light of this situation without being insensitive. People cope differently and people react differently, doesn’t mean there is something wrong with your brian. Brain. not brian. Who the fuck is Brian anyway

Me: actually I could call my brain, Brian

”Julie”: LOL well yes you can

Me: Brian is a good name for a brain. particularly because that WONDERFUL acceptance of Brian where you said I try to make light of intense situations without being insensitive…it sounds like something Brian would appreciate

You know…I always knew my brain was male

It just makes sense

”Julie”: LOL

Me: I mean, after all those years on PCOS making so much testosterone, of COURSE there’s gonna be side effects that doctors aren’t aware of. Holy shit! I’m going to blog this conversation. I totally am

”Julie”: LOL, you totally should

Me: I noticed I say the word ‘totally’ a lot. Like, totally a lot last night I heard it, while I was talking to Celluloid Tongue

”Julie”: what’s wrong with that?

Me: nothing, except I need to expand my speechifying and find another word for ‘Totally’. This is totally going in my blog too

”Julie”: oh it totally should be in your blog

Me: okay okay, now the title of my blog will be “My brain is TOTALLY named Brian”. How’s that sound?

”Julie”: that sounds totally good

Flying Rubbish

The past few days i’ve been dreaming of rubbish. The first was a couple nights ago where I was flying thanks to a ring I was wearing which made buildings blink & I flew towards them. As I flew I went over rubble. Next thing you know I’m in a rubbish tip shopping at a fleamarket. I managed to rob someone (who was attempting to rob me) and steal all their cash which was in money clips.

This was one of those instances where I woke up thinking I was RICH only to *sigh and realise it was a dream.

Then last night I’m travelling on a train and at my stop it starts raining polystyrene. Like EVERYWHERE. I thought it was snow until flecks of polystyrene containers floated past me.

I looked up what it means to dream about rubbish and it says “To dream of rubbish, denotes that you will badly manage your affairs.”

So I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe it’s because my mum’s back and we haven’t really dealt with her sporadic leaving in the first place & how that makes me feel. Particularly because, it’s happened so why dwell on it now? Can I change it? No.

It makes no sense to talk about it now aside from the flying rubbish I keep dreaming about. I wonder if that’s the case for people who bitch about their job but do nothing to a) leave or b) make it any better. Do they dream about flying rubbish?

Hmm….things to contemplate later…

The ‘Knowing’ smile

Whenever something accidentally happens that falls sway into my favour I have this ‘Knowing’ smile. It can be quite offensive, particularly if you’re the person whose favoured sway I stole it from. (In which case I have a DOUBLE Knowing smile - combo with a side of guilt…maybe…)

It’s the small indulgence you allow yourself when you’ve bowled a strike on your first date @ the bowling alley and everyone else has guttered. When you’ve bought a round of drinks and the bartender gives you the wrong change…meaning you paid a total of $3 for a round of 20 drinks. When you JUST make that bus/tram/train and the doors close on others who thought they were as lucky as you.

That smug *ARGH-HA, I’M too fabulous for words and yet to modest to tell you out loud* smile.

The ‘That’s right, I’m unreal‘ smile.

The one where you do this in your head.

So on a day when ‘yes, I should be working’ comes into my head I’ve gotta admit…I’ve smiled alot the past 2 ’sorry no, temp job’ days. Here’s why

• No getting up early
• Current Melbourne weather:10-15 degrees celsius & raining
• Discovered new free-awesome games on my laptop (non-internet related is also a bonus as it saves on broadband fees)
  
• I got paid anyway today (good ole’ govt depts!)
• a clean house, incls. washing and therefore no chores
• home-cooked meals thanks to the return of a parent to my establishment

It’s a hard life when you have nothing to complain about…all I need now is a kitten…

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