Hic Sunt Dracones

Pop quiz, should I shave my goatee off tomorrow morning so that I may partake of Movember? MCS and Nina will have to face the horror of er, my face. But it should grow back reasonably quickly. I’m vaguely tempted. And I know that if I do it, handlebars are the only way to roll. Anything sifty Dave can do, I can do adequately. ‘cept smoking. Which I do incompetently.

Hmmm, I’m meant to fundraise with said mo. Well. $1 per person who votes I do it. Weak arse capitalism / whoring for me.

A try, at touch.

Fuck it felt good.

My blog is being a bit boring at the moment. You should go and read Kruse (Pen’s) talk about getting change from bribing police.

Facebook has until the Rage concert in Melbourne to get me a ticket.

If it fails I will flee back into the wilderness.

If it succeeds, I will love it like I love Hamish. From a far, and with a cudgel.

Get in quick for my top eight spaces!

Some hours later:
Ah yes, alliteration for no real reason. FFF indeed.

So I joined up to “FB” today. Not really finally, as I temporarily joined up a month or so ago, before regaining my courage and suspending my account (10 minutes later). But “for realz” this time people. I’m an all active FB guy, I even have some friends. You can be my friend. ‘Cept you Dave. Sorry. I hate (probably unreasonably) Facebook, but I’m here for my Rage mission. I had previously promised Si I would join “the day I bought my ticket to the EU” (~April 08) and then later, in a fit of rashness, I promised Mog that if a lot of (“my”) people were still using it, and using it a (undefined value of) a lot, then I would join at Christmas. Ah GOD. I just spent five minutes looking through it and I hate it. I hate it so much.

But, I want a ticket to Rage, and I’ve been led to believe that Facebook is all things to all people. And the thing it needs to be is a “hook me up with a ticket to Rage thing” and if it succeeds, I will it nestle it to my bosom.

But I warn ye Facebook! I shall broke no failure. Present me with a ticket by January 30, or you’ll be relegated to the cosmic trash heap, to degrade like Orkut before you.

So, out flat warming is firing up in a few hours, and I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never hosted many parties. My Ego, which is both terrible and wonderful to behold, is also, sometimes puny and insignificant (to behold). Of course at others, it is solid. Solid as a ROCK. But hosting parties has always concerned me. What if people don’t show up? Or what if the party sucks? Or what if Ben lights the house on fire, or what if the people that do come don’t really get along, and the average coolness of the party drops below a solid 3.4? Er, of party measurements. But to hell with that, we have built it, they will come.

I’m well pleased by the results of my email invitations. Two people responded. Each of them saying (politely) that they could not themselves attend, if the other respondent attended. Nice. So, one of them is coming… I assume they tossed a coin to decide.

Nina has cleaned the hell out of our backyard patio area. And it looks rather good. She has deployed fairy lights. MCS has deployed hot new out door setting. I have deployed a big ‘ol rastabated image on the wall of my room.

The punch we are producing is a wildly disturbing variety that I believe is nine parts booze, one part cup. I was all ready for the good old cold tea+booze+stuff = punch of awesomeness, which has been a TBALC occasional (goldfish) favourite for some time. But MCS has gone off the reservation with some concotion involving three bottles of cheap ass bubbly. From what I can tell. Might be all right, I guess we’ll see.

Now I guess I better go and wash my hair?

Yeah baby. Ties are for gays, or so I’m told by a friend. So this week, I’m pleased to announce it’s all jeans and tshirts here at style central. I’m doing some training in the land of Carlton (probably lots of beer around, but I haven’t seen it) and the people we’re training/with are all casual up in here. So HURRAHS all around. Fuck it feels good. I’m somewhat saddened by how excited I was when I heard the news.

Also, The Gnarls Barkley Theremin still rocks my world. Go back and watch it (again). It will rock yours. Especially if you’re Charles. (Also, a god damn robot playing the Theremin? What the….)

Superbad is funny. Oh how I laughed. A lot is how. There are some horribly cringey bits, but made up for by the manic laughter. Nic will be shocked. Shocked to discover gambling in this establishment.

I’m also a complete fuck up. RAGE tickets went up for sale on Thursday. LAST Thursday, not THIS Thursday. Therefore one of us (ME) FAILED to purchase one, and now watches wistfully as the eBay price climbs ever skyward. Yes I’ll get a BDO ticket, but in my world BDO is “as well” as the concert, not instead of. So, someone find me a spare ticket. Or convince them to fire up the “second concert mojo.” Also, will the Night Watchman do a gig? Gogo magic fan bois.

Hmmmmm.

Banjax.