Some random hour.
Alcohol consumed..
Pedestal Truckie in mind…
Claire wouldn’t turn the key to launch the nukes*

* nukes totes got launched

So, as a (now deleted) tweet of mine once stated, I’m “A robot, from the future, bent on hot Asian girls, hot tech, Google & industrial music. P.S. Why do I always check out chicks in high heels?”

I am very gay for Google. I use the absolute shit out of Gmail, Latitude, Maps, Feedburner, Bookmarks, Tasks, Calendar, Picasa, Notebook.. I mean seriously, Google is the fucking bomb.

Recently the blogosphere (lol) went crazy for the Google Nexus One – a phone that is available in America, shipping to Singapore, Hong Kong, London. Wheres the <3 for Australia? Nowhere. That's where.

Smarthouse (a blog I'd never heard of until some aggressive Googling - who woulda thunk "when will the Google Nexus One come to Australia" would get me somewhere?) have confirmed with Google Australia that the Nexus One isn’t coming to OZ.

Big sadface.

You can click here for a list of Nexus One’s on eBay for sale by Aussie sellers. Some may just be grey sellers claiming to be based in Aus, but it’s your best bet for getting service (both pre & post-sale.) These sellers claim the phone works on Telstra and Optus, but from what I’ve read elsewhere it wont work on Telstra 3G, just 2G and EDGE. What does that mean? Slower speeds in most instances.. and the phones main attraction is its mobile-data-centric features.. so, food for thought.

Click here for a very US-centric list (just ignore the prices) of how the Google phone stacks up against current competitors. NB: It’s a big image, and a big download! – FYI, the “Droid” is known as the “Milestone” out here in Oceania.

If you want some convincing on “going Google” let me know in the comments. I’d be happy to convert you =)

P.S. I’m still checking out the high heels all the time, has anyone got tips for NOT developing a foot fetish?

People are very interested in getting themselves into social media. Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, “Me me me!!!1 Listen to ME! MY LIFE! MY THOUGHTS!” but the reality is, they’re doing it the wrong way round.

First, you have to be somebody or at the very least, do something meaningful before people will give a fuck. They don’t want to know about a nobody, and chances are you just aren’t that interesting.

You need to focus on doing things first. Then allow people to connect with you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a narcissist just like you.. but I realized that nobody really gives a shit unless you’re A) amazing 2) doing something interesting or C) potentially going to fuck them. There is no point building a state of the art retail space and shop front if well.. you just have nothing to sell.

Think about it.. we all want people to think about us, while we’re alive and after we die. Take a look at your life. What you think will live on after you’re gone.

…

…

Ok, now accept this..

Your legacy will die. So will mine. It is just a matter of whether its going to be 5 days, 5 years or 5 centuries. The reality is, the best chance you have of staying in the popular consciousness is having a disease named after you. Fucking around wont help either, they generally don’t name those after people and well, that’s probably not the legacy you want anyway. But do you really care if it was? I mean, it’s all about the fame right? People knowing your name?

I think to myself, “wow, I have these ideas.. but if I die tomorrow, will anyone put the pieces together? will anyone care?” – and the answer is no, no matter how hopeful I am. Another overweight white geek with a penchant for Asian women that had hopes and dreams and was undergoing a journey to find himself.. woopdee-fucking-do.

We have a lot of answers to questions in this world.. its just a matter of arranging it in your head the way you want. Mix and match. It’s basically like when you were at the milk bar as a kid and you were picking what you wanted to go in your $1 bag of mixed lollies. Take what will give you the most pleasure and stuff it in the bag. No one person has all the answers – except you. The answers you choose to believe and live by. That makes you the person with all the answers, and your core/inner self/soul – or however you want to measure it – is what will tell you what is right.

You’re going to have it all figured out. It’ll just be a matter of time. Yes, you’re going to fuck up. But anyone that gets it 100% right the first time without trying is one lucky fucker, and if you’re reading this, chances are that isn’t you.

The thing they DON’T generally tell you though, is that after you have it all figured out, its all going to come down, shift, be questioned, and changed. Maybe in a week, maybe in 10 years. But shit changes. You change.

My advice? Don’t ask the big questions. Don’t wonder about yourself. Don’t try to prepare yourself for the future you want before you go out and take a shot at getting it. Suck it up. Learn as you go. Don’t waste time. Listen to yourself, but don’t listen to the fear holding you back. You can never ultimately prepare for everything, no matter how much reading, observing and practicing you do. Life is like a war, the best laid plans go out the window once the first shot is fired (a metaphor for submitting that resume, saying hi to that cute girl, telling that cunt at work to fuck off because you have no time for idiots anymore.)

You’re going to have to adapt. Don’t worry about your views. You can spend 5 years asking questions and get nowhere. Focus on getting what you want, and let your world view evolve through the journey. Building one beforehand is just like building your dream home and then having to demolish it and build another a year later.

You are the solid foundation. Build your dream house [life] on that clean slate, don’t waste time building something based on what OTHER people tell you only to have it destroyed in a short amount of time. No matter how it turns out, you will respect yourself, others will see you as strong, and people will speak highly of you.

And you know what? That will be your legacy.

One worth having.

..if you ask me (which you shouldn’t.)

I’ve been getting emails to a Gmail I set up in my name sporadically.. about camping and whatever other shit. Someone is like “I’ll bring cake” and other people reply to all and say “I’ll bring chips!” its like, wtf? Are these normal people? My idea of organizing a social gathering is like “see you friday” then replying later with “cbf, stayin home.”

I got one this morning, which was sent to about 25 people:

All,

Tomorrow will bring dangerous wind chill temperatures so dress appropriately!  Mark and I are working up at the church tonight as the temps are as good as it will get; feel free to join us and there is lots to do….

Regards,

Bruce

I knew it was time to take action, so I sent them the following e-mail to all of them with the image in there so they knew who they were dealing with.

From: Andrew Townsend
Date: Sat, Jan 9, 2010 at 12:48 PM
Subject: Re:
To: Brent
Cc: Bruce & Jody, Doug, Bruce, Don, Mark, Steve, Dave, Mark, Tim..

Hi,

Please remove [email] from your address books.. as it is not the Andrew Townsend you seem to think it is. I'm in Melbourne, Australia (yes ladies, single too, but not looking.)

But hey, if a nice enough girl was to come along.. why not? I mean, we all need a love interest right? Keeps things spicy! Speaking of spices.. anyone got a recommendation for what to put in an omlette? I made my first one a couple of days ago (and I'm 27, I know right!)

Back on topic, I have no godam idea why this rogue Andrew Townsend is giving out my e-mail address. First come, first served, you know what I mean? Unless you're an indigenous species/culture/race of course.. then its just a matter of who has more advanced weapons/whos bigger pricks. i.e. the British.. this Andrew isn't British is he? Is he going to get all up in my shit like I'm India, America, China, Australia.. fuck, those british went nuts now that I think about it. Well, nobody fights for the queen anymore, except those dudes in the fluffy hats.

I wonder if those guys wear the hats to clubs.. since fluffy hats are all the rage with pickup artists nowadays. Total time & cost saver there. But I guess they'd have to pay a bit in terms of dry cleaning because if you're in a smoky club, the smell is gonna stick in those hats. You know it.

Anyway good luck with your trips / camping / swinging parties / whatever it is you guys do. It's all so organized and social, it makes me sick to my godam stomach. But I'm a crazy sexually frustrated loner* with nothing left to lose.

Have a great 2010..

@



* not a virgin, I get mine, I assure you

I forwarded this to my housemate. who then read the entire e-mail.. and found questions about organizing a cleanup of snow at the church for an upcoming memorial service for somebody..

..so that swingers comment might have been out of order.

Or was it? Maybe they should take a leaf out of Peaches’ book. It’s the year 2010 people.. time to think outside the box!!

New Years. I have no idea why I place so much importance on the eve of it, was it ingrained in me by movies? society? or is it just how I am? I see it as an evening to be spent having fun & being happy, either with your family, your partner, your friends, or some hot slut in a bar.

This NYE, I ended up doing none of those things. Why? Well, deep down I knew that if I did those things, I would have resented not having the chance to do what I did do.

New Years Eve Morning

8am NYE, I wake up. I exchange a bunch of texts and find out on the first night in a week my girlfriend, who we will call Canasian (as she was Canadian and Asian) didn’t stay at my place she goes out with her male friends, gets fucking blind hammered and one of them goes home with her to sleep on her couch. Apparently.

This really doesn’t sit well with me. I do believe she didn’t mess with the guy (she’s seen how being cheated on can drive people to suicide amongst other things) but on top of a whole host of other shit, it all just came to a head. It was like throwing a grenade into a shipping container full of manure, C4 explosives & broken promises (i.e. our relationship.) Fast forward to midday and Canasian and I are broken up, again. We’d broken up so many times in 3 months, I’d literally lost count. It was somewhere over 10 though. I knew that this was the last time because I’d finally cracked it harder than a fat kid who was promised McDonalds only to have his parents change their mind at the last minute.

So, instead of spending new years with the people I love (friends, family) I resolve to stay home alone, feel sorry for myself, play computer games and get hammered (kids, hypocrisy is easier to rationalize when you have alcohol.)

I walked out of work, trammed it to my local bottlo, picked up an 8 pack of Teddy Platinum’s (1.8 standard drink 8% beers, life destroyers) and headed home. I’d slammed 6 of these puppies when I get a text from an ex-girlfriend, Marla. She’s going to a club called “Next” with some friends and says I should tag along. It’s right near my house.. so I figure “yeah.. good idea!” [6 beers in.]

So I eat something, ease myself out a bit, grab a pack of Stuyvos and head to Next. I hadn’t smoked since 6 months beforehand on a date with Pedestal Truckie, and it was like putting the required candles on my self destructive cake.

$40 entry later I’m hit with a bunch of memories. The middle floor, where I fell over smashed the year before. The rooftop, where I made out with Marla and then her friend – in front of Marla – for 5 minutes. Plus Marla’s ex-girlfriend was there, who I’d hooked up with both with Marla and away from Marla. And their current cliché Gayboy buddy.

So I’d sat down and it took about 30 seconds to realize this place is teh gay. I’d gotten there around 9, so it was a long wait for the inevitable click over. I was thankful for the invite and excuse to head out.. but I spent the next few hours drinking $4 pots of Carlton draught and chain smoking while looking depressed (my usual club persona.) I got a bunch of texts and phone calls from Canasian.. she left voicemails which I could barely hear over the music. She asked me to come over about 40 minutes before the big click.. but I didn’t bite.

Sometime after a random guy tells me I looked pissed off, Gayboy says “I just took this cube of LSD and Heroin.. you’re going to have to look after me”

It was around this time I looked up at the night sky and realized my options are limited. Despite wanting it before walking into the place, I’m not really that interested in making out with and fucking the drunk skanks. I don’t want sloppy seconds (especially not knowingly) no matter how thin or dolled up they are. I’m nowhere near any state to pull a chick I don’t already know because I’m drunk, depressed, pissed off, and anti-social. Not to mention I was too drunk to realize I was too drunk to fuck.

Midnight

So I’m buying another pot when the big moment finally happens. I’m resenting myself, Canasian and almost anything to make me feel worse. I might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “free negative energy all night!”

Then I got a text from a 20 year old chick I know (who I’d never hooked up with) saying “I’m going to be in the city tonight” to which I reply “well if you wanna hook up with a drunk and horny guy, let me know.”

Marla and her ex-girlfriend are there, and I know I could swing a threesome, but I didn’t want to as I was still rational enough to know I wanted to go forwards, not backwards. Yes, “new” isn’t necessarily better, and it sure as shit doesn’t know you like your nipples licked.. but I’m all about the novelty of new experiences (read: girls.)

I continue to get hammered, blow money and generally just have a below par time screaming to late 90’s metal in the sweaty bar when the 20 year old replies to my fairly overt message, saying she wants to meet up. She’s cute, tall, has a good body, and knows me, so this is like a B grade movie where the guy you think died earlier on comes in to save the day at the last minute when everything has fully gone to shit.

Then she texts me again.

And again.

Come see me. Doooo it.

*harrasses*

So I asked her what she was wearing.

“A red and black mini dress. And my favourite heels. And a red bow in my hair.

I guess you’re thinking about now “WOW Towny, things really turned around!!!”

Guess again.

The problem with those delicious texts are.. they happened at 2pm THE NEXT FUCKING DAY. My phones battery had died before I received any of them, meaning I was withdrawing money from the club’s ATM and finishing off my smokes being an emo cunt (not even the kind of emo cunt that gets insecure emo pussy) while I could have been hooking up with this girl who was 2 blocks away in my apartment which was 2 blocks away. Why did I ask her what she was wearing the night before? Because I fucking hate myself of course!

That isn’t even the worst part. I texted her “If you had come back to my place last night, what would have happened?”

I probably would have let you do anything you wanted. I’m kinda inexperienced.

Old me might have wanted to punch a wall or something, but I just ended up just laughing.. laughing all the way to pornhub.com to work out the sheer frustration of the whole godam situation.

Meanwhile..

But back to the previous night, I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember if I got into a fight. I don’t remember if I was a cunt to anyone. All I know is, I can’t keep up the illusion that I’m moving ahead anymore because I spent the first few hours of 2010 blitzed out of my head, wasting all my money and being an irresponsible douche, just like I was a year before, and the year before that.

2009 wasn’t so bad.. I lost 20 kilos, I got my drivers licence, I had girls fall in love with me & I got a promotion at work.. but all of that doesn’t seem have made any difference. I’m still fucking things up like an 18 year old.

I’m beginning to think that working to be a good person doesn’t count for a lot. It doesn’t pay the bills.. it doesn’t put food in your mouth. It doesn’t make relationships work and it doesn’t make you happy. The only thing I do get from being a good person is a piece of dogmatic bullshit to self-righteously justify my actions in an argument. But that just prepares me for conflict and enables me to martyr myself.. I’d rather just not have to be in that position at all.

But then again, am I even a “good person” ? or a just another deluded asshole who thinks his shit doesn’t stink? The only thing I DO know is, all I woke up with on new years day was an empty wallet, $2 in the bank (2 days after pay day) and 2 bags of Doritos* next to my bed.

* and 20k in debt

Don’t let them know.. but I <3 my friends.

So, as with anything I consistently do that takes even an iota of effort, I have to analyse it and decide whether its worth the energy expenditure.

I’m not deluded enough to think more than 4 people are truly interested in my opinions and rants, and even they tell me to hurry up my stories due to “excessive profanity” and constant streams of “too much information.” – Seriously, if I’m telling you a story about a night that directly fucked up my life, how am I not going to mention that I porked my then-girlfriend somewhere along the way? (It’s relevant due to the reduced amount of testosterone affecting my behaviour from that point on.. or something.)

Perhaps it will give me some kind of purpose or accountability? But then what? Cash for comment? Does anyone want to pay me to say something? My rates are as agreeable as an insecure rohipnoled hamster on the business end of a 3 day post-breakup coke binge.

So what’s “The Ultimate Outcome” of all of this? Becoming a Y-List Internet Celebrity and getting laid for that fact? Technically I’ve kind of been there before in Wolfenstein.. I was more of a hero to a pocket of 14 year old boys, which whilst satisfying, never let me connect with their older, legal, hot, hopefully agreeable and impressed by eSport-manager-sisters. But to actually get laid as a result of Y-List Internet Celebrity Blog Status.. YLICBS? Throw in a few vowels and it sounds like the STD I’d probably catch from that escapade.

Sure, getting laid from the Internet is nothing new (come on, how else is today’s Geek supposed to get his groove on? BARS?) but the reality is, the majority of inventions out there drive reproduction, if not directly, for its inventor. What makes computers any different? It’s normal for a guy into hot rods to get laid for that fact, but not computers? Have they seen what they’re doing with computer cases nowadays? You could probably drape a bikini clad babe across one of these new shiny puppies and have a tasty poster on your hands.. it’d depend on whats under the hood, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

“Check out the quad cores on that!!!”

I don’t even know if this is a blog (a word that carries a lot of stigma) as much as a website.. It’s just me. Horny, rude, crude, inappropriate, corny, emo, happy, sad, and entertaining for 5 minutes* at a time.

I think the best I can hope for from all of this is an outlet for some streams of consciousness, snapshots of crap I’ve actually finished.. however long it lasts for it doesn’t matter, as long as I had fun along the way I guess.

Hold the fuck up.. I take that naive piece of clichéd shit back. As long as I made money, got laid, or received maximum kudos** for minimal effort, it was worth it. Is someone writing this down?

* READ: 30 seconds
** By “kudos” I, of course, mean blowjobs

Wow, can you believe it? I wondered to myself this week “I should probably do a 6 month recap post when the time comes.. I wonder when it is.. oh shit, its this Saturday!” I didn’t even know if the site would last 6 weeks.

The blog’s been.. interesting so far. It’s caused people to de-friend me on Facebook.. girls to want to meet me from dating sites and given me some kind of catharsis. Perhaps most importantly though, it’s provided a much needed creative outlet.

I figured this is a good a time as any to do a small overview of the last 6 months here on KMFDMAN. So lets take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?

Six Months Without Sympathy

The tea thing has been going well, and I’m still not sick of it yet. The mischievous Comic Dman was snapped in public for the first time up in Sydney. When I got back to my beloved Melbourne I went to buy a hoodie at Target which caused a whole bunch of lols (for my friends.)

I started to realize I was getting old.. and admitted I used to think and old friend was a date rapist. I also got pissed off because people seem to steal my ideas all the time.

I transcribed an awesome alternative ending to Schindler’s List that caused one person to de-friend me on Facebook and another to almost pee her pants.

I wrote a letter to Obama (I think thats a pre-requisite for having a blog nowdays.) I laid down the cold hard facts on why I’m better than a Teenage Girl at everything that counts. Nobody has been able to refute this.

And who could forget that time I wrote about the 3 girls who walked out on dates with me? and then posted the RSVP profile I used to meet one of them!

There was that post about how I managed to get busy and freaky with an ex-SuicideGirl.. oh wait, I didn’t write that one. Too crass.

I alienated my friends and main source of traffic when I debated which was better, Myspace or Facebook. I ripped off The Onion and made a post about KFC and its new Krush Bars which became my main source of traffic during my 2 months without social networks.

We debated the meaning of enlightenment due to a misunderstanding on an Emo Shit post about a girl I carry a torch for.

Then there was that time that I almost cried on the train. Most recently, I lost 10kg and posted my diet secrets, then got pissed off because people are complaining KMFDMAN doesnt bring the funny anymore!

It’s been a gas so far, but where will the next 6 months take me? God knows. Maybe I’ll get a girl, settle down and start eating continental cheeses and sipping a sav on a back porch. Maybe I’ll start clubbing in sequined hotpants and a mesh shirt. Or maybe.. just MAYBE..

Well.. hehe. Stay tuned.