The Wickety Whack Blog of the New Millenium!

Eyooo hooo! It's t-t-tuesday already, and you know what that means!? I sure don't...

Twas a spooooooky morning today, where I was awoken with quite a fright! I heard something bang in my room at around 8:40am and when I got up to check it out I found out what it was (and also what it wasn't, a magic genie that'd come to grant me three wishes, my first wish of course would've been unlimited wishes). I keep a film canister with a die in it up on my shelf (a few years back I briefly followed that live-by-the-dice fad, then I realised it was stupid... and the fact that I'd always end up rolling the option that I didn't want to do), and it had somehow fallen off my shelf and banged on my desk. I was quite befuddled as you could imagine. My window was closed so the breeze couldn't have blown it off, I didn't intentionally knock it off (in a literal sense, not a euphamism for theivery), and my shelf's way too high for a mouse to get up there and knock it. In my drowsy morning state I actually considered the fact it may have been God trying to wake me up for my class (although I wish he gave me more time to get ready... little punk. I smash you God! )

Anyway, I went back to sleep, and when I woke up again (around 1pm) I saw a mouse dart across my floor and under my bed! So it would seem a mouse can reach my shelf! This calls for more experiments... but firstly I jumped out of bed and lifted my bed up onto it's side. There was no way this feline was going to excape me! I searched high and low for it... but unfortunatly It labelled me a liar, as it had escaped. Blast it!

Drunk with the sorrow of defeat, I decided to sober up with a nice bowl of Corn Flakes (not like that other lousy bowl...). Afterwards I waltzed back into my room (although It took a while to get there as my partner was leading as well as being non-existant) and who should I spot cowering under my desktop? I'll give you a hint: it starts with "m" and ends in "ouse"... You guess it! My primary school nemesis Mitchell House!
"Ha!" I said, "I see you've returned!"
"Please Jerram, I'm sorry I made you eat that dirt sandwich, the guilts been killing my these past fifteen years!" He then burst into tears. "My wife left me, my kids moved out, my dog bit me... I've tried to kill myself on several occasions... please forgive me!"
I pondered for a bit. This man's life was obviously in tatters... then again he did make me eat that dirt sandwich. It was a hard decision, but in the end I think it was the right one.

I went to my kitchen and grabbed a rusty bread knife I'd been saving for this very moment. I returned to my room where I stabbed Mitchell in the throat several times before proceeding to saw through his jugular. In the end, I couldn't take his screaming anymore, so I stabbed him through the back puncturing both his lungs making it impossible for him to squeeze any air out of them. The screaming ceased though was replaced by ample ejaculations of crimson blood from both his mouth and the now gaping hole in his throat. It flowed quite smoothly, and was very beautiful. Whilst I watched the blood pump from his arteries I felt myself becoming increasingly aroused. Mitchell was suffocating in his own blood and would soon pass away. I took this opportunity to hack into his chest with my rusty knife so I could jack off to the last few pumps of his failing heart. I couldn't get through his ribcage with my knife alone, and I began to fear I might miss the whole show as Mitchell had already passed out from blood loss. In a fit of desperation, I tore away at the flesh with my teeth, exposing the two or three ribs directly avove his heart. I tried to crack through the ribs with my teeth but the surrounding fat and cartilage was too elastic and refused to break. I had only one option left. I fiercly drove the knife into his stomach and sawed as fast as I could. His stomach and intestines popped out into my lap but I had no time for a snack so I kept on cutting, my arm now deep inside Mitchell's chest cavity trying to hack though the multitude of tendons and arteries holding that heart in place. It was no good, my knife was no match for those tough tendons. In the end I had to result to gripping his heart whilst it was still inside his body. Was is still pumping? It was! But only just, I had no more than a minute before it stopped completly. Not wanting to waste any more time I quickly snapped his neck allowing my throbbing hard cock easy access to his gaping throat hole. I plowed that esophagus hard and fast, with an intense climactic orgasm just as his heart pumped it's final pump. Exhausted from the assisted suicide I started to consume the gizzards I'd been too busy with to deal with before... then I saw that mouse again!

I quickly cleaned up and stored Mitchell's remains in the freezer for later, then set to work on constructing the ultimate mouse trap of doom! I cut the head off a two litre cola bottle and inverted it, making a sort of funnel in which the mouse could get in, but not out. As of yet the mouse is still at large.

I took a photo of Mitch for you.
Mitch.
Todays post was brought to you by the words: sadistic fuck

Posted by NoeL at 9:05 PM | Permalink | Comments

Q: If mud is dirt plus water, what is clay?

A: According to the Collins Gem Australian English dictionary, clay is: n. fine-grained earth, soft when moist and hardening when baked, used to make bricks and pottery. -clayey adj. -clay pidgeon n. baked clay disc hurled into the air as a target for shooting.

On a more scientific note, the difference between mud and clay is the plate-like shape of clay particles, very thin but elongated in two dimensions, and very small, of the order of one-thousandth of a millimeter in length. Because of the high surface area this shape has, it allows tiny water molecules in to bond the plates together, but also allows them to slide, giving the clay its elasticity.

It's chemical composition is more or less the same as all rocks on Earth, consisting of silicon, aluminum and iron oxides. A general formula for clay, considering it to be a mineral, is Al2 O3. 2SiO2. 2H2O. Here the water contained is actually within the clay particles, other water molecules adsorb to the particle surfaces when clay is wetted. Clay takes up so much adsorbed water that when it is plastic enough to shape, it will be about one- fourth water. But all that added water only increases the volume by about 5%.

Refrences:
Davis, T.N. (1981) Stoneware Pottery. Alaska Science Forum [online] Available: http://www.gi.alaska.edu/ScienceForum/ASF5/515.html Accessed 30 August 2005

Posted by NoeL at 3:33 PM | Permalink | Comments

Q: If your whole body were a hot air balloon, would you stop eating spicy food?

A: Well the obvious answer would be yes. If my whole body was a hot air ballon I'd have no mouth for which the spicy food could enter into my also non-existant stomach. In fact, I can't imagine I'd be eating any food at all, for many reasons; the first being the one I just mentioned; also the fact that I wouldn't be alive (having no brain, pulse or any internal organs) and therefore would be in no need of any form of sustenance; and thirdly I'd be much too big to go to the supermarket and actually buy my food.

Considering only my body were a hot air balloon, what would become of my soul (I'm talking from a Christian perspective here, I know all you athiests just got fired up at the very mention of a "soul")? Acording to Christian ethos my soul should leave my earthly vessel once it dies (the body, not the soul). Would the same thing be true should my body become that of an inanimate object, say a fork, or a hot air balloon? Certainly makes you think. Also, what form would my soul take? I've seen a lot of movies and from what I've heard they're all true, and in those movies Heaven (and Hell) is full of humanoid souls wandering up and down the Pearly Gates because that damn Saint Peter is too "righteous" to take a damn bribe! But seriously... would I become some sort of angelic air balloon? That'd certainly be novel. Or maybe I'd become some sort of collaboration between all my earthly forms, both my human form and my air balloon one... man I could make a pretty penny doing Marlon Brando impersonations!

Say... this body-as-hot-air-balloon idea's starting to sound pretty good... point me towards the nearest mad scientist with a PhD in human-balloon genetics!

Posted by NoeL at 3:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

Ah Mondays... I love 'em. No classes... netball at night... Mythbusters! What's not to love? Actually, Monday did cheat on me that one time... filthy skank... but all's forgiven. Like I always say, "Don't forget to floss!", but closer to the point, "Life's too short to hold grudges". Also, I half agree with the old parable (not quite the word I was searching for, but it'll suffice. Hit me with a comment if you know the word) "Forgive and forget". I'm all for forgiveness, but what good comes from forgetting? If you forget the incident, nothing has been learned. I prefer "Forgive, but never forget". This way you can get on with your life and have the knowledge of how future situations can be avoided. What this has to do with Mondays, you tell me. Perhaps the word "forgive" was invented on a Monday, I don't know, clearly I'm not a cobbler... if I was, my shoes would be hole free (which they are, but that doesn't nessecarily mean I'm a cobbler myself. Perhaps I've had them mended by a proffesional cobbler, perhaps my shoes are fairly new and haven't worn through yet. Either way, how should I know? I'm clearly not a candlestick maker).

The first half on this Monday was great, and involved sleep.

The second half was fairly so-so, from the bad bowl of Corn Flakes I had at 1:30pm (the bastard tried to steal my wallet), to our 5th (or maybe 6th, who's counting? Not me obviously. I'm not a cobbler) consecutive loss in netball at around 10pm. Now I'm sure you're all wondering about the Corn Flakes, but honestly there's not much to tell, apart from the obvious facts that they were both corny and flakey, and later became milky (ok so perhaps the milkiness wasn't that obvious as I hadn't previously specified that I'd added milk to the concoction). I spent the remainder of the afternoon reading random blogs in an attempt to escape from the plethora of university assignments piling up. A friend suggested to me back in '76 that burying your head in the sand until it all blows over is a good way to escape your problems in life, but not wanting to get sand in my vagina it's a remedy I've avoided... although I've recently learned that boys don't have vaginas, and even if they did they probably wouldn't be on their heads. But still, as I have only one head I may not be a boy as I had thought these past seven weeks, and so I think it'd be best to just avoid the head-in-sand-sticking altogether (if you don't get that joke, check the grammar of the previous sentence). I did manage to get through one assignment though. It took me a whole hour! It's times like these I wish I was a cobbler...

The second half was fairly so-so... oh wait, I've already done this paragraph.

The second... sorry, did it again. Let me find my place...

So that about wraps up my Monday. My favourite part was when the donkey was playing basketball, but you just read all about that in the last seven paragraphs so I won't bother repeating myself, but man that was funny wasn't it! I mean who'd have thought a donkey could've made that shot... unbelievable. Anyway, I've been typing for long enough already so I'll say my goodbyes in the manner of a bilingual Chinaman: Auf wiedersehn!

N.B. There was a sad lack of Donkey Konga today, which is the perfect segue for this photo.

(Ok so maybe that segue was a little flawed... but just a little)

Todays blog was brought to you by the words: Cobbler and Chinaman

Posted by NoeL at 10:37 PM | Permalink | Comments

Howdy troops, me again (duh, like who else would it be?). Anywho, thought I'd give you the heads up on how my Sunday's been... I assure you it'll be riveting reading.

Chapter 1: The visit from the Old Olds

Yes, the old olds (ie grandparents) have been up in QLD for a bit and thought they'd stop in and take me out to din dins. We went to the bowling club in Park Beach... I had a macadamia crumbed chicked breast with honey mustard sauce. It was awesome, but quite small... I had to later fill my tummy with a mexican pizza sub, which was also quite good. Before that though, they took me grocery shopping as I have little food, and with the amount of money I'm spending on booze these days, food has become somewhat of a luxury. It was great, I shan't have to shop for at least a fortnight.

Chapter 2: The Girl with the Bold Purple font

Yeah, you know the one... Taryn. I suppose you're wondering what may or may not have happened to her... well this afternoon I got a message from her. Aparantly the reason she never messaged sooner was because she had no credit, which is fair enough. Also, turns out that she has a boyfriend already! Well, once again my love life has suffered at the hands of Father Time... I must have some sort of "bad timing curse". Still, it was good to get some closure on that issue. The worst part though, is that she isn't gunna play netball with us either! That crazy broad...

Chapter 3: My arse

It's hairy.

And that's about all there is to tell for today... apart from the fact that I slept in till one and made no progress at all on either of the two assignments that I have due on Friday (neither of which I've started)... I'm in one of those moods where you just feel like doing nothing... a very dangerous mood to be in at this point in time.

Also, my apologies for the significant lack of humour in this post... kinda comes with the whole I'm-not-in-the-mood-for-anything mood... as does a drop in Donkey Konga skill.

Posted by NoeL at 9:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

Q: Do you believe that forks are evolved from spoons?

A: First up, that sentence is a grammatical nightmare and whoever wrote it should go back to school. The word "evolved" can be used as either a verb (eg. fish evolved into reptiles) or an adjective (eg. a reptile is an evolved fish, or a shape that is composed of smaller vesions of itself). If the word "evolved" was intended to be used as a verb, the question should've been: "Do you believe that forks have evolved from spoons?"; or alternatly as an adjective: "Do you believe that forks are evolved spoons?".

Secondly, assuming the question was supposed to be asking one of the corrections above, I would say "Hmm, an interesting question indeed, and certainly a valid theory... if of course you're an idiot!". Evolution is the continuation of beneficial genetic traits of a living creature from one generation to the next. A spoon is not alive, and therefore cannot pass on its genetic traits to its offspring. If anything, it was man who evolved to comprehend the idea of a fork (assuming that the fork did indeed come AFTER the spoon).

Posted by NoeL at 8:27 PM | Permalink | Comments

Howdy kidlets, sunshines and/or chiefs, and welcome to the Wickety Whack Rubber Glove Feel Good Blog of the New Millenium (sadly the whole title wouldn't fit... but you get that don't you, huh punk!?)!

So then, what's pop'n in the blog'n you ask? Well first up, don't ever say that again, you sound retarded (though if you actually ARE retarded, all's forgiven). Secondly... not much at all... I saw my friends blog and thought "Yes, that's pointless." and like all crazes today, the more pointless the better. But, since I'm a contradicting non-conformist, I decided to start up a blog as it does have a point to it, that point being a way to vent your feelings to the world and know that you're too insignificant for anyone to actually take notice of them... ahh, the internet... what can't she do.

So, with all the hoo-dilly out of the way, time for me to rant about my personals that no-one will take notice of but myself.

Let's take it all the way back to last Wednesday night. After indulging ourselves in the feel good magic that is Donkey Konga, my roomies and fellow resi-buddies head'd on down to the Platois (yes, I'm a fake French ninny). Apart from being a Wednesday night, it was also Steve - aka Jack Osbourne - 's birthday, and the whole crew was out, with the exception of young Mandette, who was unfortunatly eaten by a porcupine the previous spring... did I say porcupine? I meant she had tonsilitis... also her name is Mandi and it wasn't last spring, it was just a few days ago.

Anywho, as the story goes, Jeeves and myself were sipping martinis by the fire, exhausted from our rousing rendition of "Loco-motion", when a lovely young woman rocked up under the arm of fellow sportsman Brenton. Her name was Taryn. A dainty lass, nigh on five foot six, hair gold like the sun, teeth... well she had nice hair. To cut a long story short, we ended up hooking up and sharing a cab home, and Taryn came along for the ride with us.

Thursday went by without incident.

Then came the elusive Friday, elusive I say as it is the last day of the working week, and one might assume that when the names of the passing rotations of the Earth were being handed out, Friday was not to be found (for he was possibly prying the remains of the deceased Buttday from the jaws of a porcupine). But Friday had been found (as had Wally) and Friday night was upon us, the night that was sure to be (at least in appearance) from twenty years ago. Yes, your assumptions are correct, it was Lauren and Cara's 80's themed birthday party. People everywhere were dressed in the get-up of the specified decade, although there was some confusion about the century as I was the only one in pantaloons. Not wanting to look anachronistic I promptly changed my attire.

I had sent Taryn an invitation via my automated telephonometer, albeit she did not reply. Afterwards we made yet another journey to the Planto for further celebrations of the annual festivity of Lauren and Cara's births, and shortly after who should walk in but the lovely Taryn herself! I moseyed on over to say my greetings, but she didn't seem as thrilled to see me as I'd hoped. I asked her why she hadn't responded to my invitation and she replied with a comment about her phone being eaten by a porcupine. She then proceeded to the lavatory, and that was the last thing I heard from her all night.

It's now Saturday night (or more precicely, Sunday morning) and I'm writing an introductory blog, as you no doubt would have assumed. So I'll leave you with a nice picture of the crazy 80's party. Adios muchachos!


Todays blog was brought to you by the words: porcupine and lavatory.

Posted by NoeL at 3:10 AM | Permalink | Comments