Thanks to Sherdie you have to put up with me ranting about books I've read. Enjoy.

1. One book I've read more than once.
Watchers by Dean Koontz. This eventually became a very bad movie in the early 90s... in fact I think it became two or three very bad movies. But before then it was a great book, one of the best examples of Koontz in his best era (for me at least) in the mid to late 80s.

2. One book that I would want on a desert island.
Is Penthouse classed as a book?

3. One book that made me laugh.
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis.

4. One book that made me cry.
I don't think there's been one yet. I'll pass on this answer.

5. One book that I wish I'd written.
Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C Clarke. Wow, what a book. Paper thin characters as is the Clarke way, but the ideas are fantastic and the way he explains the science makes it seem more like a documentary than fiction.

6. One book I wish had never been written.
One? I'll give you three, and they're all sequels to Rendezvous with Rama, written by Clarke and Gentry Lee. They basically throw away everything that was great about the first book and should be burned on sight.

7. One book I'm currently reading.
1984 by George Orwell.

8. One book I've been meaning to read.
Wow, this is a long questionnaire. You're going to pay for this Sherdie. Anyway, back to it. Erm... Moby Dick. I even have it around here somewhere so there's no excuse for not reading it.

9. One book that changed my life.
I don't know about life changing, but Magician by Raymond E Feist was very influencial in a lot of ways.

10. One book that made me think.
The Stand by Stephen King. It was one of the first post-apocalyptic novels I read and it certainly fired my imagination and started a life long love affair with stories and movies in that vein.

Done!

Posted by Bonestorm at 9:56 PM | Permalink | Comments

And no, it was not made by a 4 year old, even though it looks that way. This was basically a learning experience and I made a LOT of mistakes, did practically everything the long way (and the wrong way) but it was fun nonetheless.

There, I think I've made an appropriate disclaimer for how crappy it is. Click the link if you dare.

Google Video link

It's based on my two cats, TJ and Ash, and titled 'Sharing'.

Posted by Bonestorm at 7:11 PM | Permalink | Comments

...really lazy, I can't decide.

A few days ago I was driving behind a fellow resident of my complex and they had a novel idea for taking their empty wheelie bin back to their house from the front gate. They basically stuck an arm out the car window on their way past and grabbed it, and then hauled it along next to the car as they drove along.

Before you applaud the sheer genius of this idea and plan to do it yourself, I would suggest you have a healthy disregard for your car's paintwork. Cornering did not go well for the bin draggers I observed. The bin whacked and scraped against the car enough in a straight line, let alone when it was presented with a curve.

Their attempt to mount the curb to their driveway also had me wincing.

I guess it's the way with these genius inventive types, they're not always the most practical.

Posted by Bonestorm at 12:48 PM | Permalink | Comments

I haven't been doing a lot of blogging over the last week or so, mainly because I've become obsessed with my new 3D modelling stuff. And when I mention 3D modelling, you probably think that sounds cool. Well, it's not. I'm teaching myself how to do it, and results are dodgy.

My spiffy 3D animal looks like a 4 year-old mashed some lego blocks together and then melted them in the microwave.

Maybe if I try modelling some melted lego blocks it'll end up looking like a 3D animal.

***

News during the week that Tool are coming to town in January put a smile on my face. Having those naked contortionists cavorting on wires above the stage caused my friend Robo to pass out at the last concert. Maybe all of the noise and flashing lights had something to do with it as well. As he slumped across my back I intially thought he was a fellow mosher getting a little too friendly, so I gave him a vicious back elbow that ended up collecting him in the throat on his way down. Then I turned around and saw it was Robo lying on the floor.

Luckily he was out before the elbow collected him, and I could blame it on someone else.

Anyway, looking forward to a bit of Toolishness early next year.

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

I just took advantage of the Brisbane show holiday to head out and fill my car up with petrol. I'm not actually going anywhere in the car. The jaunt out for petrol was my excursion for the day. That's right folks, I'm making the most of my day off.

On my way back to the car from the cashier I noticed an old geezer at the pump next to me using a squeegee to clean his windshield. This caused me to think of the last time water touched my own windshield - about 18 months I reckon, about the last time it rained here.

I figured the old guy was onto a good thing, and I decided to wait for my turn at the squeegee. I managed to mill around the door of my car for thirty seconds or so, pretending to check my tyres, the bird crap that's welded itself into my paintwork, that kind of thing, while in essence I was waiting to hear the plunk of the windshield squeegee being returned to its bucket by the geezer.

Problem is, that didn't happen.

Eventually I gave up and just hopped in my car. The windshield could wait. As I took off, I glanced over at the geezer and realised why I never heard the plunk. He was busily thrusting away with the squeegee on his bonnet. That's right, the old guy was washing his entire car with a windshield squeegee.

Now I know the water crisis is bad. This is probably good thinking on his part. But I can't help but feel things have gotten to a pretty bad state when people are reduced to washing their cars with windshield squeegees at the servo. What's next for this guy? Stripping off stark naked and squeegeeing down his wrinkled carcass to save water from showering?

Let's hope not.

Posted by Bonestorm at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments

This Saturday night I'm MC'ing a wedding for some in-laws. This is not the first time I've MC'd a wedding, in fact it's the third. I have a very tried and tested method for approaching MC gigs.

1. Set stupidly unrealistic expectations about how funny I'm going to be.
2. Panic about point 1.

That's it. That's my strategy. Somehow it has worked in the past.

I'd be fine if all I had to do was get up and introduce people. Unforunately it's not as simple as that. People ask me to MC because they've seen me speak before, and because they've found me funny. And it's very flattering, don't get me wrong. But I can't help but feel a bit of pressure to bring the house down.

I guess most of these pressures are internal as I set high standards for myself, but that doesn't make things easier to cope with.

By nature I'm an introvert, I'd much rather be out of the spotlight than in it.

Anyway I'm trying to feel confident about it, and trying not to think about it too much. Not thinking about it too much at all. Apart from the fact that I rehearse the whole thing in my head about 3 times a day so I know it flawlessly. E.g. on the drive to work the radio has been off for the last two weeks as I go through it; I mutter to myself in the shower as I go through it; walking around work... but apart from that I'm not thinking about it. Not at all.

And this sounds neurotic but I think it's a necessary part of me dealing with the stress of it. I have to convince myself that I know it perfectly.

I know that on the day I'll be as nervous as hell but I guess that helps get me 'up'. It's an awesome feeling once it's over and everything has gone well, so I'm looking forward to that part of it.

And on the bright side, if I totally screw this up the demand for my services should quickly plummet.

Posted by Bonestorm at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments

I was just lining up at the canteen for an afternoon choc-fix. A harmless Mars Bar. The guy in front of me was unloading on his mobile phone in no uncertain way, and didn't even pause to take a breath when he reached the counter. The red-faced, dumpy cashier gave him her best "I've had a bad day" glare and yapped "Can I help you?" but unsurprisingly the message didn't get through.

"Yeah I know dude, that's so sweet," the guy said, oblivious.

"Can I help you?" the cashier said, leaning forward across the counter as if her mere proximity might break through the wall. She upped the volume. "Can I help you?!"

The guy - without breaking stride - held up two fingers and said "sausage rolls" mid sentence. It went something like: "Dude, you know what I'd do - sausage rolls - I'd just let 'em have it."

The cashier pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. I was feeling sorry for her at this point. "We don't have any," she said. Mobile phone guy was already staring off into space again, chattering away, lost in his own private bubble. After a moment (get this) he turns back to her and repeats his order: holds up two fingers and mentions the words 'sausage rolls' somewhere in the middle of a sentence.

"We don't have any!" the cashier blasts back.

He manages an incredulous look but doesn't stop talking, and saunters over to the hot rack where the precious sausage rolls should be. The cashier follows him from behind the counter. He stands there staring for about 15 seconds, as he continues to dole out advice to some poor sap on the other end of the line.

Finally the cashier says "What do you want?" and in answer, he just holds up his hand, palm outward. He stands there like a statue, dead still (except for his mouth of course) for another 10 seconds, and then the cashier has had enough and heads back towards me at the register.

The Mars Bar is trembling in my hand.

"Can I help you?" she practically roars.

I wave the Mars Bar and say "Just this thanks."

"$2.70" she says, bashing the numbers out on the register hard enough to make it edge across the counter with every thump. I know it's only $1.90, but I figure she's going to work this out soon enough, and she does. "No it's not. It's not $2.70 at all. I'm all flustered now!" She looks like she's literally going to explode. I fear that I'll get chunks of cashier meat all over my work uniform. We exchange money and I get the hell outta there.

The mobile phone guy is still in the same spot as I breeze past. I consider smashing the phone against his ear with the palm of my hand as hard as I can, but sanity prevails, and I decide to end the cycle of hate.

The Mars Bar was pretty good anyway.

Posted by Bonestorm at 3:44 PM | Permalink | Comments

Office conversations. Aren't they great?

I just had the pleasure of overhearing one. Unfortunately this kind of conversation is not unusual around here. I tend to stick my head in my computer (metaphorically) and try to ignore them, but this one really couldn't be ignored.

The conversation was about cat roadkill. It went from someone seeing cat roadkill this morning, to a round table discussion on types of cat roadkill and which were the most amusing. The contention was then raised that "the best type of cat is a flat cat". It was agreed that this was true. A game of "I saw one this big" ensued.

The conversation then moved onto badmouthing cats in general, and inevitably led to stories about shooting cats. I'd tell you more, but by this time my ears were bleeding.

Now, I'm not objecting to the conversation on the grounds that I'm squeamish, because I'm not. Most of it was bullshit anyway. These guys wouldn't know a gun from a pineapple. It's just, I feel myself getting stupider by the minute listening to a conversation like this. Or am I missing the hidden genius in the cat roadkill discussion? Maybe it's working on levels I can't comprehend.

Posted by Bonestorm at 3:25 PM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday afternoon some mates and I were at a picnic area called Iron Bark Gully. It was a pseudo Bucks afternoon (the real Bucks happened the weekend before) so there was plenty of beer flowing and merriment.

We were playing some park cricket when all of a sudden a car came into view on a little rise next to the picnic area, behind some trees. The window rolled down and out popped a camera, and whoever it was starting snapping off a few photos. Being close to dusk, they used a flash, so they weren't bothering to be particularly inconspicuous.

They even manoeuvered the car back and forth a couple of times to get the shots they wanted from between the trees. Then they sped off in a cloud of dust, leaving us all looking at each other in bewilderment.

So who were they? Initial suspicions would fall upon the bride to be, or at least a friend of hers whom she put up to the task, but no one recognised the car. Plus it was a pretty tame affair, seeing as the real Bucks had already happened.

The other alternative is a bit less savoury. I think you can all figure out what I'm thinking. And yes, if you see photos of me playing cricket on some depraved voyeur website, please let me know.

Posted by Bonestorm at 9:03 AM | Permalink | Comments

He's not really my coach. It's actually the slogan for a series of statues available for purchase from a couple of Christian sites on the web. As a foreword, I'm not making fun of anyone's religion here, but the statues themselves seem kinda absurd to me.

It's a little known fact that Jesus played short stop for Jerusalem back in his day. He also had a mean curveball by all accounts. Here he shows a young upstart the basics of holding the bat as straight as possible. We can only assume the next statue in the series shows the kid at the rear on a stretcher, since he's crouching close enough to have his head knocked clean off by the backswing.




This one I caption 'Air Jesus'. He may have never been tempted to sin, but even Jesus can't resist holding the basketball tauntingly out of reach of the stumpy kids in this statue. He could certainly outdo Jordan and Kareem in 'airtime' as well, once recording 3 hours 14 minutes hang time on one single dunk after coming off the bench for the Lakers.






I'm not even going to go near this one. I just included it because it looks so sinister.










These kids obviously never read the part of the bible that says "Though shalt not crash tackle the Prince of Peace!" I'm sure it's written somewhere. Jesus sets a bad example here by playing without a helmet, but I guess when you can raise yourself from the dead safety isn't really an issue. Also made history in the NFL when he threw a ball 90 yards and then caught his own pass in the endzone.




I call this one 'Bend it like Jesus'. Forget about Maradona's 'Hand of God' goal in the world cup. This is the go-to guy for miracle goals. Sandals may not seem the most appropriate footwear for soccer, but look closer. Those are Nike sandals.



I'm sure these would make fine additions to anyone's mantlepiece.

Posted by Bonestorm at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments