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

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.

Yeah well you know what? Fuck you. You know what IS funny? Ur face. We were all thinking it, and guess wat? I’m the only one with the fucken balls – we all know this – to come out and say it. Lest I forget how much you smell. Two words: DE. ODORANT. Odours dude, you gots em, and they are up in my nasal grille fucking up my chi.

And while the gloves are off, lets see you work a job you hate, drink beer to dull the pain till you pass out and somehow find the time to create “da l0lz” on your internet blog – that you designed, implemented and generally rocked on your lonesome.

That’s right, no consultancy here, I’m a self made man.

While I’m on the subject, whats with this lack of blowjobs? I don’t remember telling ur mum it was ok for her to go on holiday. Sure, your grandma has no teeth, but its just not the same.

Yeah, I know she’s dead. Sure its hard (lolz) rousing a fellatious experience from an urn of ashes, but I’ve done it, and you know what? You’ll be there too one day.. probably with my ashes.. and that’s cool, ur urethra is worthy of my burnt body.. but I digress.

Let me tell you something that’ll fucking blow your top. Yeah. You want hilarity? well.. I aint got that.. shipment coming in Tuesday. But what I do got, is irony, of the bitter variety.

Check this.

Try going on dates with attractive twenty-somethings and having them want to date you.. then you go on a date with one girl, and fall for her.. and cancel all your fuckbuddies, because you realize you don’t want to date this girl after having fucked someone in between dates. You throw away all the other girls who want to get on your emotional (and literal) cock and things with the girl you actually like fall through.. yeah. Then you find you had a total “player lifestyle” set up but you squandered it because you were honest and you liked 1 woman because ur mother raised u right, and then you’re jonesin’ so hard for a blowjob u had to call one of the girls u reffered to whenever someone said “you’re just out for sex” – anyone who is 27 years old has people they can call for sex for christs sake!

IRONY motherfucker. None of that only spoons when all you need is a knife..

Speaking of knives, this whole dating thing is hardcore man. It’s like an emotional prison and its shank or be shanked. I’m sick of being the shankee, you know what.. and fuck, sure, I’ve only been shanked once, but thats all it takes man.. “Oh Andrew bitch it up!” – you weren’t there man, you don’t know what it was like.. the thing about dating isnt what they tell u to do.. its the things u do they didn’t tell u to do..

I still have flashbacks. No fucking shit.

“But Andrew, you’re going into that whole emo fucking relationship dating crap again, we don’t want that, its too depressing!”

Guess what bitch. Go on. Guess. Yeah. Life *IS* Depressing. Man, that reminds me, I had this dream where I kept pissing on (not in) a bed the other night.. anyway, this is the fucking future man,.. sorry if its a little too REAL for ya. In the real world, and real things happen. Real DEPRESSING things.

So yeah, sure, my blogs not funny anymore.. and you know what, SO WHAT.. it’ll get funny again, you’ll see.. I’ll show you.. I’ll show you ALL!

“If you hear sobbing coming from my room, don’t worry, that’s just me masturbating” -Dman

So here we are.. 2 months after taking the Red Pill and I find myself almost at a loss.. what the fuck did I actually learn with after 2 months without social networks?

Initially it wasn’t that big of a deal. I still had women in my phone, and I didn’t find myself missing Facebook at all. I had “hilarious status updates” going on in my head and no way to post them.. I considered writing them down but elected not to, since there’s no point doing this if I was basically still Tweeting, albeit in my brain.

Apart from almost missing out on a friends birthday as I couldn’t log in to Facebook to check dates, it took a couple of weeks for things to actually begin to change.

Without the social networking distraction, I took a look at my life and what I have.. and that basically caused me to throw a lot of stuff, and a lot of people, away.

I’d gone on a date with one of the clusterfuck girls, the one that I liked, and it didn’t work out. But, looking back, considering I’d bedded her best friend, I don’t quite know how well I expected it to go. Well, that’s a lie. I know how well I expected it to go, since I’d turned my lava lamp on before I went out.

The other girls in my phone were either met or deleted.. if I hadn’t met them and plans fell through once, deleted.

Ex-girlfriends, deleted.

Fuck buddies, deleted.

Male friends.. (covered under fuck buddies.. NOT) almost all of them deleted.

All up, 17 numbers gone. How do I know that? I wrote down the last 3 digits of these peoples numbers so I’d know who it was calling / sms’ing. Nothing worse than a 2am SMS from an unknown number. This process was made a little easier, and I don’t know why, by having been on the tail end of the Pedestal Truckie saga, which is still going through its epilogue.

So, resetting to almost zero, reducing all of my potential contacts (I really need to get better at having pseudo/lesser friends) I was, well, more alone than I have been in a long, long time.

Filling the Void

I suddenly had more spare time, and less to focus on. Not thinking about “this or that girl” I was messaging online, or posting some hilarious status update, I read more books than I have in 6 months. To actually kill time (and relieve some stress) I bought Street Fighter 4 for my PC, which, coupled with my Kettlebell, has worked out very well.

Boags Draught also did a lot of void filling.. I found it gives me a lot less of a hangover than my beloved Coopers Pale.

As a side-note, I wish I’d known about Gmail’s drunk email filter as without RSVP one night I sent some very, shall we say, “interesting” e-mails to old contacts I never wanted to speak to again.

Base Needs

Since all the girls in my phone were either bedded or deleted, I had no options for, well, getting “it” into the “on” state, which meant when I was drunk and horny, I couldn’t revert to the old “get on RSVP” chestnut. “Does that actually ever get you laid that night?” Well, you’d be surprised.

So anyway, it was either jerk off and go to sleep, or go to the local and pick up. My drunken pickup technique is this.. go to bar, order beer, pose like a rugged studious tortured model type guy, observe which chicks are checking me out. Wait 5 minutes, order another beer, if girls checking me out haven’t come to talk to me, go over and talk to them. “Does that actually work??” I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Hellish Self-Analysis

So apart from the drunken pickup, the reduction in my life caused some long overdue self-analysis. It got real, real messy. I’m still figuring this out, but I’ve made some headway. My biggest focus right now is reducing everything I own & carry. Now when I’m in a shop that has stuff I’d like, it could be a funky little statue or a print, a DVD, a computer.. I think “wow I’d like that!” for about 2 seconds, then I suddenly realize “I dont want to own anything else.” I have everything I need. More than I need, in fact.

Getting rid of a TON of junk has been liberating, but when I think about it, it reminds me of what people do before they commit suicide. Reducing what they own, getting their affairs in order, etc. I guess you could see this process as a social suicide, but only if you like to put morbid spins on things..

Cause and Effect

So, 1 week out from deadline, a lot of shit came to a head. I’d had bruised ribs so I couldn’t work out my frustration on my kettlebell.. I’d deleted, well, EVERYONE from my phone and MSN. I got an e-mail from an ex and, I caved in to my loneliness and invited her over. At least I didn’t cave and go on RSVP. Though I’m not sure which is the lesser of 2 evils.. without factoring in what society deems “normal.”

Realistically, this is what enabled me to get over the finish line. Lying in a bed of isolation you designed for yourself is pretty gaybar.. and you always find ways to bend the rules when you’re jonesin for a fix (be it alcohol, affection, sex, whatever..)

Oh yeah, I cheated..

Technically.

I logged into RSVP to get info for my RSVP post.. I didnt send messages or browse. I also logged into MySpace to check the location of a Black Widows night. Apart from that, I’ve gone on (but not signed in to) Twitter and MySpace to check out music pages (specifically, The Beards and She Wants Revenge) since they dont have/or dont update their own websites enough.

KMFDMAN Website Traffic

I was still getting hits from Facebook (somehow, my profile was deactivated..) and KFC Krush Bars. God bless those curious fried chicken lovers, even if they leave the site after 3 seconds.

Some people graciously subscribed, I got up to my highest number yet.. 12, but, squandered it by not posting anything for a couple of weeks. That self loathing bender really had no benefit, in hindsight.. seemed like a great idea at the time tho!

Summary of Changes

• I’ve lost 10kg
• I’ve deleted every girl from my phone that I’ve had, or would have, had sex with
• My MSN now only has real life friends or randoms to kill time talking to (no dating prospects)
• I’ve deleted the numbers of 90% of my male friends
• I’ve had more one night stands with chicks picked up in bars than I have at any other stage in my life
• I’m back in an existential crisis

So, What do I want back?

Facebook Nope.. even though its more popular than ever.
MySpace Yes, but really only to send messages to musicians about getting MP3’s of their shit.. and maybe for the cute emo chicks (here we go again!!)
Twitter Nope.
Online Dating Yes.. but not for its old purpose (fingers crossed I can make some new friends without fucking them.)

What did I do as soon as the 2 months was up?

Like putting on an old comfortable hoodie on a cold day.. I cracked a Coopers Green and went on RSVP.

Cheers.

With an iron fist I took a hold of obesity and kicked its ass so hard it now has to shit through its mouth.. and it only took me 5 years!

Back in 2005, I weighed 135kg. On the Body Mass Index (BMI) that’s MORBIDLY OBESE! Which ironically, doesn’t give you any cred in Melbourne’s goth circles. But I digress.. This post is about how I lost around 10kg in 2 months. I’m a 27 year old male and I’m 181cm (5,11″) tall.

Check that shit. A Nintendo Wii doesnt lie. When was the last time a Nintendo lied to you? Never. Remember when the Nintendo Seal of Quality used to mean something? IT STILL DOES!

“But Andrew you must have lost muscle weight to do that!”

WRONG. I’ve been packing on muscle thanks to my sweet Kettlebells.

So here’s the run-down of how to get it done. It worked for me. Consult your doctor first, etc, if you die, you cant sue me, ok?

So get ready to unlearn every other thing you’ve read about weight-loss. This post is the goods, and it WORKS!*

Think Green

No, not environmental. What the fuck! Print this post out 5 times and burn it before you worry about that. That’s why we’re having babies, so they can deal with that whole dying planet “problem.”

GREEN TEA motherfuckler! Get the delicious T2 shit. It works out around 40c a bag, and $1.20 a day to down 3 bags of the stuff.. that’s less than half the price of a can of Coke at your local 7-11.. and it will keep you flavored all day. It has caffeine which will surpress your appetite, but won’t screw with your body (like Coke and Coffee can.) Not to mention all those antioxidants to help mitigate the effects of your** alcohol consumption.

Get The Secret

No, not that fucking bullshit wax stamp media packaged TV thing.. I’m talking about Slim Secrets. Think GREEN.. GREEN TEA extract, baby! I eat 2 of these for breakfast every day. It says its supposed to boost your metabolism but its probably just a placebo effect, which I’m happy with.

You can get a box (12) of them for under $30 from a Vitamin Me store. You can also order them online individually or by the box.

Get your “Fuck” on

Bang a chick or three. Try to maximize the amount of sex you’re having.. and dont be afraid to sweat all over them. If you can get the passion to the right level, the sweat thing is a total turn on.. but otherwise, just fuck till you cant move anymore and then finish them off with a handy if required.

I’d say try to stick to 20 year olds or 30 year olds due to their appetite, but basically every woman I’ve fornicated with could be boned until the cows came home.. and seriously, I’m beginning to doubt the possibility of those cows making it back.. I mean, did anyone give them directions???

Remember, its OK to bone fat chicks if you’re doing it as a weight loss method.

If you’re a chick, its time to don the cowboy hat and go cowgirl styles, none of that starfish fuck receptacle stuff, GET INTO THE ACTION and sharpen his pencil like your life depended on it.

Get Gastro

Man, I had gastro recently and I thought I was going to die.. it was fucking fucked up. I’m not exaggerating when I say, I really thought I was going to die a very painful, humiliating death.

But I’m sure I lost weight from it! yay!

Drink Water

Lots of it.

Soup It Up

Here is my favorite soup place. You’ll find me there at one time or another on weekdays..

If you don’t work in Melbourne’s CBD and cant make it to Center Place (where The Soup Place is — there’s also one in Melbourne Central’s food court so you have a good excuse for a walk) then hit up your local Subway. Don’t forget to get carrot and wheat bread.

Get a little Christian

No, I’m not talking about finding a religious midget. If you fuck up and down a 6 pack and a pizza (or 2 6 packs and 2 pizza’s.. ahem.) – FORGIVE YOURSELF and get back on track. No point letting it be a catalyst for more junk. This lesson is handy for almost anything in your life.

Look After Yourself

No, not some namby pamby bullshit. Eat Lean Cuisines or Healthy Choice when you’re too bored eating soup for lunch and dinner. It’s still manly if you lift weights before or afterward.

Cut Down on Alcohol

This is a toughie.. especially if your friends are boring. I was still downing 20 beers on weekends when losing this weight… somehow.

Just try to minimize it since it’s literally a depressant.. it slows your metabolism down. During weekdays try to switch to another vice.. like masturbation or plotting the downfall of that guy at work who annoys the shit out of you.

Cheat

No, not on your girlfriend (unless she asks you to keep it neat.) This is a total hack.. like installing wall hacks or cheating at poker, but you need to get your metabolism up. So, just like Vin Diesel in Fast and the Furious, u gotta hit the NOS, even if its against the rules..

Just 1 a day (I try to keep my max at 2.. but on weekends it ends up being 3) and plenty of water afterwards, will give ur body a kick. Dont have more than 2 a day and know your limits, because this shit can kill you.

I personally recommend the Nutrient Water Energy (the yellow one) since you get 75ml more than the Vitamin Water and its non-carbonated (so your body will like you.)

If you dont mind carbonated stuff… there’s only 1 option: Smart Energy Blood Orange & Chilli. The Chlli gives an extra kick to your metabolism, just like jalapenos would on your Subway.

It’s not a Diet

Just like its not a tumor. Its a mindset. This is kinda deep (compared to everything else here) but I wasnt on a diet.. I was just changing up what I was eating, finding variety and trying new things, which made the transition a lot easier.

Go Further

I get two 15 minute breaks a day.. I might go and buy a banana or a coffee.. instead of just going to the closest place, I go somewhere that’s like a 5-10 minute walk away, buy it, and walk back.

Even if I’m buying a coffee from just next door.. I walk around the block first. Pretty easy and good for clearing your head of all the monotonous work bullshit.. albeit only momentarily.

Sputnik Fighter

This is my name for my odd workout method.

Since going to the gym can be lame, or inconvenient (since my local one closes at 8pm) or expensive. I spent $50 on a copy of Street Fighter 4 for PC (first game I’ve bought in 5 years) an Xbox360 controller for Windows ($50) and a 16kg Kettlebell ($110) – obviously not with this intention, but this is how it worked out.

I either play through the arcade mode, or survival / time attack challenge modes (I would do it playing online opponents but my internet is fucking shit) – and after defeating an opponent, I do 3 reps of Kettlebell snatches/clean and jerks, then put it down, after next win, do it with the other arm.

I’ve had good results.. and quickly, so far. I told someone about this and they said “what do you do if you lose?” – nothing. So if you suck at SF4, or whatever other game would allow for similar time-frames of game-play, this wont work for you. I don’t do reps after losing because psychologically, I don’t want to even loosely associate Kettlebell workouts with losing. Kettlebells are for winners who like to win!

Incidentally, if I was still playing Wolfenstein, I would do this after winning rounds, maybe even after losing. It gets the blood pumping and helps clear the head.. it would definitely work to rid somebody of match jitters / stress. It’s like a reset button.

Daily Intake

So here is the raw data.. my daily diet goes like this..

BREAKFAST
2x Slim Secrets bars, or a sandwich from 7-11, Energy Drink

LUNCH
Subway or Soup

AFTERNOON
Banana or a Coffee

DINNER
Healthy Choice/Lean Cuisine
or Soup + 3 slices or so of bread

EVENING, IF HUNGRY
Popcorn, low-fat Yogurt or Rice Snacks

THROUGHOUT THE DAY….
I’m pretty much always drinking Green Tea and Water during work hours.. non-stop. When at home.. water, at least. Chamomile or Green Tea up until around 10pm.

That’s my Weekday game plan. Weekends is a fucking all anal action free-for-all of drinking and eating, but I try to keep it as low key as possible (which isnt saying much) and make sure I detox as much as I can. Whatever soup / tea you can fit in on weekends is a bonus.

So now my BMI isn’t Obese anymore (not that anyone believed that it was recently.. at least thats what they said, the sweeties) I have to go Mano a Mano with Obesity’s younger brother, Overweighty, and these Krav Maga classes*** I’m taking should ensure he gets FUCKED UP.

* For me =)
** READ: my
*** After this bruised rib heals. FUCK.

After a grueling Saturday of impromptu coffee dates and Street Fighter 4, I made my way out to Claire’s house for pre-drinks. It was a belated birthday celebration with a bunch of her friends, and we were going to head into Black Widows, a goth/industrial club in Melbourne’s CBD.

I boarded at Parliament and quickly left the city loop. Arriving at Richmond, I see a bunch of people in Rugby jackets waiting to get on as we roll in. I’m sitting in a priority seat facing forward staring at the wall, but I do my usual peripheral glance at the door in-case any attractive people of the feminine genre were to board (the future Mrs. Townsend could come from anywhere, after all.)

A bunch of people get on. Two of them are in Melbourne Storm jackets, one appears to be the father of the other, who has down syndrome.

The father is standing next to my seat, and I never saw his face. His son stood infront of my seat, then looked down at me. I smile at him with the best “purely innocent” and “friendly” smile I can muster. It’s my most welcoming facial expression, that covers the gamut of “hey, I think you’re cute” to “sorry to see you lost 2 of your limbs there, bud!”

I remember I’m sitting in a priority seat, and with all of the other seats taken, I find myself unsure of what to do.

He seems fine standing. He’s dressed more appropriately than me, and is probably fitter than I am due to the regular caloric abuse I put my body through. The train has been moving for 5 minutes and I’m working through a fierce internal debate. “What if I offended him by offering him my seat?” I ask myself. He’s no invalid, he obviously doesn’t need my pity. He’s fine standing and in no visible discomfort, so maybe I should just stay put.

Had it been an old or pregnant lady, there wouldn’t have been so many question marks.

Then he made a noise.

To me it was indeterminable other than somehow being about the game he just went to.

“What about those fireworks?” his father asked.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, with such a joyous, pure and innocent expression of happiness. The second the sound died out, I immediately felt a deep need to break down crying. My eyes began misting up, but I quickly regained my composure.

Why?

He seems happy. Active. He will be blissfully ignorant to what he is missing out on (in my opinion) and truth be told, with my fully functioning brain and level of intelligence, I can’t remember the last time I sounded that happy. Ever.

I usually get like this around the disabled. It is a part of some weird thing inside me where if I see a disabled person, I suddenly a feel pressure on my core self. A question is asked inside me that goes along the lines of “Look at them, and look at you. What are you doing? Why aren’t you better? Why havent you cured cancer yet, saved more lives?”

You only have to be moderately rational to realize the idiocy of those questions, but they come up every time.

I think if I had to spend 10 minutes in a room full of people with mental disabilities, I’d hit the floor in the foetal position and be reduced to a crying mess.

The worst thing about that is it is as deeply rooted in compassion and empathy as it is in narcissism.

I get the same stab at my core when I see a beautiful woman. But the question, as well as the reaction, are much different.. and another discussion entirely.

It’s been 15 minutes and I haven’t moved.. immobilized by my own neurotic thoughts. The priority seat opposite me is vacated, and he sits in it.

I look at him. He seems lost, looking into the distance. It was then I realized I should have just offered him my seat. I doubt he has my egocentric needs, so why would he have taken it personally if I offered him a place to sit? I’d bet blowjobs to donuts he doesn’t have a tenth of my insecurities, so why would he immediately perceive me to be taking pity on him, and consequently take offense? He’s probably more of a human being than I am.. one that would beget courtesy with more courtesy, rather than try to instigate a dick measuring contest.

To be free of those macho pressures, and whatever other societal bullshit would surely be bliss.

But I guess, given the choice, I’d still choose the life with the burden of knowledge and intelligence, even though it’d sentence me to a life of living up to arbitrary ideals to achieve even half of the life I want.

But that’s another story.