There was this girl I’d run into in a fairly random situation once before. I’d seen her picture on an online dating site and talked to her a bit.. then, while on a tram ride to a then-girlfriends house I saw her sitting there. In a toga.

Yes. A fucking toga.

She was smasht with a friend, laughing her ass off.. but the smile on her face was unmistakable. So, in the least creepy way possible (and hey, we’re talking about the guy who bought a hoodie before, so this was childs play) – I walked up and said “Hi, I’m THAT GUY.”

Much to my surprise they didn’t run off screaming (as is the usual reaction when I approach women in public.. NOTE TO SELF: stop groping women in public) and after a not-so-awkward conversation we parted ways.

Fast forward 2 months, I’m single. We talk on MSN and I get invited to a gig for The Vaudeville Smash at the Evelyn.

So off the back of my celebratory high paying job beers (read: I’m already hammered) I go to the Evelyn to meet this chick I’d only ran into once before for 3 minutes. I pay my cover and on the way in the bouncer says “hey, look after yourself man..” – Like every drunk person, I thought I’d done a fairly good job of hiding my shame.

I was wrong.

So I roll in. I’m sporting a soft Italian leather jacket over a black Bonds hoodie and raglan. Some messed up Levi blue denim – straight leg – with black Dunlop volleys. Not to mention to a drunk “I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me hard” attitude.

I’m at the bar ordering a Coopers Green, juggling my drunk logic.. “I have X amount of $, if I buy bottled beer I’ll drink it slower, and have a better night.. and only spend the money I already have in my wallet, I’m a genius!!”

At the bar next to me, there are 2 girls. I think one of them is my girl, but I wasn’t sure at the time, so I get my beer and say, “oh, hey!”

She has her hair tied back, a red cowgirl hat on her back, red/white flannel shirt, tight jeans and red leather boots. Not to mention a sheriff’s badge and a bubbly persona. The Vaudeville Smash have a song that mentions a Cowgirl – and a Toga – ..Apparently.

Her friend isn’t really my type but reminds me of an ex. We all sit down and well, I realize now, I proceed to flirt with her friend like fucking crazy.

Don’t get me wrong, that was not my intention. I was simply working my mojo in the group and before I knew it, she thought I was into her. The fact I was wearing her sparkly scarf and dancing with her probably didn’t help. The worst thing was, these people (apart from my girl) didn’t know I had the yellow plague.. and her friend was white, so, y’know, fuck that shit (or not, as it were.)

Did I mention my cute cowgirl was asian? Oh no, I didn’t. Well, let’s talk about her. She’s short. Viet (but not Viet Cong, according to all of the intelligence reports I’ve Googled on Da Nang) and has a great innocent energy.. basically the kind of person you want to be around.

So, moving on, I’m in the group (or I drunkenly think I am at this point) and we’re watching bands and doing all the usual shit.

There’s lots of physical contact via close couch sitting with her and her friend, but I have my eye on her. Cowgirl turns and faces me and says “I like white boys” – apparently this is common knowledge among her friends.. just like my friends know I’m all about the eastern flavva. It’s at this point I know it’s on like Donkey Kong – why? Because I’m white, handsome, and have something approaching charm (even when supremely drunk.. apparently. Older women have told me I’m a cute drunk, which is a compliment I’ll never forget.)

Cowgirl was sucking on a chuppa chup.. which I stole and gave back to her after a while. This crossed the spit swapping line, though not as much as I’d haved liked. The Vaudeville Smash finally come on and well, they aren’t bad. They had a saxamaphone, a vocoder and inspired some rollicking times. Much fun is had. I think. Because for the middle of the gig, I was doing this:

So, cash in hand (so much for that drunk logic plan) I roll back in.

“You’re back!” she said, when I, well, came back. She is dancing, her cowgirl hat bouncing up and down and all I can think about is pulling her body close so she bounces up and down against me.

I regain my (alleged) composure and enjoy the rest of the gig. After it’s over they start playing hand picked hits from the 80′s and 90′s. The DJ is cutting the songs 3 minutes in to cater for Gen Y’s short attention span and I’m not complaining. There’s a lot of singing of lyrics and random conversation.. then I’m face to face with cowgirl and I very randomly pull out:

“So you want to make out with me infront of the womens toilets hey?”

“What?!”

“I’m pretty sure thats what you’re telling me here” I said with a smile. She hadn’t said anything off the sort, but I’d been hanging with them for 4 hours and the only person I’d made a move on was her friend, apparently, who I didn’t even have any interest in.

Her smile is wide, her eyes cheeky and infectious as she says “ok.”

“Ok, you go first.. I’ll meet you there in 30 seconds so it doesn’t look suss.”

She leaves, and I talk to her friends about something random and excuse myself.

Then, I experienced one of the favorite moments in my life..

I walk up and she is facing the toilet door. Her hand raises like she was going to open it to walk in, then it lowers awkwardly, as if she thought someone was thinking “why is that girl standing there, are the toilets all occupied?”

I can tell this doesn’t happen that often with her.. kissing boys in front of toilets (and hey, lets be honest. I don’t kiss a lot of boys infront of the womens toilets either.) She doesn’t see it as her back is turned, but just like Frank’n'Furter would say, I begin to quiver with antici… pation. I felt like a fat bastard walking up to a freshly cooked & steaming all you can eat buffet, completely ready to fill an emotional void.

I gently grab her from behind then push her up against the wall, kissing her softly. My hands slowly loosen at her sides as I press up against her and I begin gently rubbing my lips against hers. I pull back slowly, parting mouths ever so slightly while I inhale her breath. I often do this with women as I love the warmth and taste of the moment.. it confuses some girls because they dont know what to do, but she does.

I kiss her again and things get more intense. I know this has to finish before she begins to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed (sometimes I spend too much time putting myself in the womans head) and I don’t want to risk tainting this memory in her mind, so I slowly pull away, letting go of tight grip I had on the hair on the back of her head.

We rejoin the group and after some more drinks and dancing to music from over a decade ago.. we end up making out before she gets on the Night Rider back to her suburb. For once, I didn’t invite a girl back to my place and it’s a good thing I didn’t because, little did I know, cowgirl had a card in her wallet. A card that said V.

But for how long?

I quit my job a few months ago and I haven’t had much to do. I ran out of TV shows to watch. I’ve watched every episode of Bottom at least 6 times. On top of that, THREE WHOLE seasons of 24 (man, Season 8 Episode 22 ROCKS!) and even that FlashForward show that just got axed.

Meanwhile my girlfriend was nagging me to watch the new Doctor Who episodes with her, but it was established I needed to see the original remake/new series first. I started watching them and well.. I didn’t stop.

I had so many other options.. Lost, Heroes, House.. never seen a full episode of any of them. Even Futurama, which I watched religiously for the whole of 2008, I could have revisited that in preparation for its June 2010 return.

But no.

Sure, at first it was ok.. I was just watching it with my girlfriend, wondering how many golf balls I couldfit in Billie Piper’s mouth. Then, I found myself feeling unpure thoughts like, I like Doctor Who – and as if that wasn’t bad enough, I found myself thinking I liked one Doctor more than another.

2 months ago, Doctor Who was just something I heard Ricky Gervais make fun of in his podcasts. Now, I’m one of those guys that gets 15% of the Doctor Who (DW) references. I ran into these two dykes (yeah, one is thin and attractive, the other is fat and mannish) that live in my building the other day and ended up talking to them about DW. They admitted they were total DW nerds. I was only 1 season in, and I liked the older dude more than the new guy, David Tennant (pictured) – but then I got to know him. He rocked. He rocked my world. He’s a total spunkitrunks with great energy. I’d hit it no question.

Sure, I’m a geek, yeah.. but I always thought I had one up on people who watched DW in the game of life. Now.. I’ve gone down a rung.

I watched an episode of the new DW with the new Doctor Matt Smith that was kind of alright.. it was all World War 2 themed which was cool and it has some funny moments. But I compared it to David Tennant (again, pictured.. fuck I love designer stubble) and I wondered what it was missing and then I thought to myself “it needed to be more rollicking.”

Rollicking.

That is a raw, REAL thought I had.

Dictionary.com states:

Rollicking
rol·lick·ing [rol-i-king]
–adjective
1. carefree and joyous: They had a rollicking good time.
2. swaggering; boisterous.
3. people who use this word eat dick

Ok so number 3 is my addition, but seriously.. who thinks the word “rollicking” let alone thinks something needs to be MORE rollicking. What the fuck?

So anyway I teared up when David Tennant died in DW so yeah I’m a fag. But to be fair I’m sure the 2 dykes who live in my building who are DW nerds did too, and they’re all about the minge.

To try to balance it out I’ve started watching a lot of UFC fights and that UFC show Ultimate Fighter.. so much so I’ve been doing air punches and feeling like a tough guy so that has to undo some of the damage right?

Anyway there is this nerd-internet-cloud-3rd-person-chinese-whisper-random-rumour I heard which says that Matt Smith (the new Doctor) yells out “Do you love the cock?” when fucking chicks, and if they dont say “Yes” then he pulls out and sulks in another room. Seriously. Where did I hear this? well, everything you heard about sewing circles is true. They talk about anything, everything, and most of all, anything to do with your dick if you have one.

The lesson? Don’t date a chick who is in to textiles. ’nuff said.

From: Andrew
Date: Mon, Apr 26, 2010 at 12:16 AM
Subject: oh fuck
To: Claire

im 15 minutes into “i love you man” – ive never seen it before

and im relating to all of it..

FUCK ME

I didn’t really want her to fuck me – I wanted to freak out.

In the first 15 minnies, its established that there is this dude who is a great guy, who relates to chicks more, and doesn’t have any male friends, and is getting married to a smoking hot chick. People think this is weird. He won’t have a best man. Oh yeah, did I mention his best friend is his mum?

So he has to find a cool dude. Of course, he does. It’s Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, or that dude from Forgetting Sarah Marshall who isn’t Russell Brand. He really gets to use Russell’s vibe in this movie, which is awesome.. he’s just chilled out and you can feel his energy. It’s great. Just look at this picture of him walking his dog in Ugg boots.

I mean, how in touch, free of fear and cool is this dude?

Anyway, as with any movie shit all works out. But, it was just so refreshing to see a movie that wasn’t OTT, and really connected with the whole not stupidly macho frat boy thing. It was just a cool dude who was lookin’ for some male friends – to which I can totally relate.

Andy Samberg and the racist rapist from Oz were underused, but thats why they call it an ensemble cast, right? Anyway, it wasn’t a laugh riot movie. But it was funny in some parts, and touching in others. Sure, I connected more with it because I’m your a-typical man raised by a woman (hello Fight Club fans) with his own issues. But it was cool. I also didn’t hate Paul Rudd for once.

Down with rom-com, up with bromance. IMO.

I give it 3.5 boners our of 5, only because there were no hooters.

P.S. I do NOT want to fuck a dude, even though I messaged one on RSVP this week. Who is gay. But he knows I’m not into cock. I wont be gay for pay. I swears!

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?

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 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!!

So what did I do last New Years? None of those things of course. 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.

Plz come :( For my birthday.

I’ll even come to Next if you want

*harrasses*

So, of course, 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

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

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.

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!