| Rone 的个人资料The Hole In My Head照片日志列表 |  工具  帮助 |
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1月4日 Too damn hotIt's that aweful time of the year again. Summer. Too fucking hot.
I love Winter, simply because it stays cold and I can deal with that. It's nice and breezy the whole time and I like it that way. People piss and moan about it and stay indoors, which means I have less cockheads to deal with when out on the street.
I can wear shorts and a t-shirt and not burn to a crisp and contract cancer and dies a horrible painful death.
I am a hairy man indeed. Anyone who has been fortunate to see my half naked body will tell you that. I also maintain a nice even layer of fat covering my buff muscley interior, which gives me extra insulation. Fantastic for Winter. It means I CAN walk around in shorts and a t-shirt and be ok during cold days.
The downside to being an amazingly kick arse Winter adapted super being is that I am simply forced to eat shit during Summer.
I can't deal with it. Anything pushing 20 degrees causes my to sweat for no good reason. When the temperature gets up to about 40 degrees I plead for strangers to kill me.
Some people might suggest that going to the beach is a good idea. It might seem like a better idea since I am convinced that Geelong and the nearby Surf Coast have some of the best beaches on the planet.
The downside is that I burn faster than a child doused in petrol. This coupled with the fact that I am an incredibly weak swimmer.
I can keep my head above water for long enough, but my rate of movement is virtually nil. It doesn't help that I have large lungs and can actually keep my head underwater for long periods of time, during which I don't move far.
Coupled with the fact that I get rather freaked out when I go deeper than my shoulders, I usually find not going to the beach to be a better alternative.
There is still one fantastic alternative remaining. Park my arse in front of the TV in a four million degree room and drink so much beer I can't tell what day of the week is. Right now there is the added bonus of not needed conciousness to realise that Australia will be handing England's arse to them at all stages of the cricket.
Too hot. Fuck off. 11月30日 I'm back. Remember to lock your windows at night.Sure, I have been gone a long time and nobody cares.
I already regret writting that sentence as it sounds like I have some kind of self doubting pain in the arse loser complexion, but I assure you, I have no doubts about how great I am. Just as my Mum, she thinks I am cool, even though she can't cook.
Some of the useless crap that has happened since I last decided that the online community should be graced with my presence include:
It is needles to say that each of those points are more important than the collective events of your entire life. Essentially, I kick arse. I will give you a brief summary of each of those points until I get bored, which isn't likely to be soon, because the underriding topic is always me, and who could possibly get sick of me?
New Zealand
Glacier
New Zealand is pretty much like Australia, but overseas and a bit colder.
There are shit loads of mountains everywhere. It was pretty cool to stop and look at the mountains on the first couple of days there, and my camera was chock full of mountain photos during the first three days, and then after that they just became a bit repetitive and I got sick of them. Possibly the greatest things about mountains are the fact that they frequently had snow on them. Being a stirling Geelong boy, I never get to see snow. I love the cold, yet I don't go to the snow, what does that make me? Economical.
New Zealand thought it would be a really fun idea to have a few glaciers. Since there are absolutely zero glaciers in Australia, it seemed like a good idea to go to NZ and harass their glaciers.
I have heard in the past that glaciers are essentially huge wads of ice that slowly move, mashing paths through mountains or anything else that gets in their path. They are pretty fucking slow, so basically mountains are the only things slow enough to get caught in their path.
After climbing a huge mountain I was presented with a view that could only be described as a quarry. Luckily there was a little plaque that told me that I was at the very special Hooker Glacier (unfortunately there were not in actual prostitutes there). It was special because it is one of the rare glaciers that melts from the top down, instead of receeding and advancing. Essentially it was a huge ice block. However, since it had decided to plough it's way through a mountain, it had collected a shit load of rocks with it. As it melted, all the rocks ended up on the surface since the newly liberated water either evaporated or seeped past the rock. Simply put, there was a huge layer of dirt and rocks on top of 200m of ice, but all you could see was rocks. It wasn't even that cold.
A glacier ripped me off. I walked up a mountain and it stayed under the blanket of rocks that it built for itself and said 'not today buddy, maybe in other several decades'.
So I did what I do to anything that rips me off. I urinated on it. Right off the lookout and onto the rock surface, which would have alowed my urine to seep down to the glacier and soak it in piss. I felt justified and climbed back over the safety barrier and walked back to the car at the bottom of the mountain. Take that you ancient lump of ice.
Rone 1: Glacier 0.
Beer
New Zealand is now ranked at number three in my favourite beer nations.
For curiosity sakes, Ireland is number one for making Guinness, Australia is number two for having both a healthy boutique beer range and me as a resident, and NZ takes out third place for two reasons.
1) Speight's Gold Medal Ale.
This shit is fantastic. Possibly the best amber beer ever made. It is brewed in the old copper vats and not in a continual production line like other beers, such as dog urine... I mean VB and Carlton Draught, Crownies, Fosters..etc.
I am yet to find it anywhere in Australia and I cannot vouch for it's export quality, but in Dunedin it cannot be beaten.
2) Standard beer size.
The pint. My precious love child of beer. I drank in several pubs and one that seemed almost like a night club. I drank at Irish bars and New Zealand themed bars and just plain run of the mill bars, and at everyone I gave no more instructions that 'a Guinness' or 'a heavy' (they always gave Speight's in Otago if you asked for a heavy) and it always came to me in a pint. I never even SAW a pot. As far as I know there aren't even pots in NZ, you either have testicles and drink pints, or you sit in the corner and cry like a wimp.
The only downside of NZ that really pissed me off was their currency. The largest not I ever saw was a $20. That's not too bad considering I normally struggle to have $20 at any given time. The big problem was that I was a tourist and hence, needed a lot of cash on my, and $500 in $20 notes is just too fucking big to sit on.
I am now tired and I am going to bed. You can hear about how other things are greater than you later.
I rule. 7月19日 A legitimate reasonRegardless of the state of my laptop I am taking a few days off.
My Nana died unexpectantly last night and there needs to be a certain level of family commitments made.
I'll be back soon. 7月13日 Insurance (sort of) saves my arse (read: income).The sacrifices I make to run a shit heap of a website like this are astronomical.
Apart from the abundance of time I put into writing crap like this isn't the whole of it.
Yesterday after throwing a few photos on here for everyone to drool over, the screen on my laptop died. Right now I am working away at dad's workstation upstairs. It is a fairly slow system and my patience is wearing thin. I wouldn't expect many updates until the bloody thing is fixed. That gives you a week to breath and relax in the (relative) safety of your own homes.
The first thing I did was get onto the spawn of Satan that can only be called 'Tech Support' to see if there was some way they could guide me to fix it without paying more money than the laptop is worth to get it fixed by a professional.
They were no help. I had to ring twice and both times I was greeted by a Pakistani or Indian sounding bloke who had names like Patrick and Sam. Sounded a bit suss to me. They kept making me repeat basic details and they couldn't pronounce Geelong properly so I assumed that I had an overseas call centre on my hands. It was my duty as a human being to simply invent sayings and pretend they were accepted ways of talking here.
The guy on the phone was obviously getting confused, but hey, if they TELL me that I can't fix it and they don't instantly direct me to someone who can they deserve everything I can throw at them.
After an inordinate amount of time I was eventually referred to a guy who can repair my screen not far from my house and I was happy.
This best bit was that it is all covered by my warranty. They will even let me take my laptop home to use with an external monitor while I am waiting for the replacement parts to be shipped over.
Insurance is finally starting to redeem itself. It is now just moderately shit house. 7月12日 End of an era.Time moves on. Things change. New opportunities arrise and older occupations must be put to rest.
That time is now.
I finally have a new job that pays a more humane rate and it leaves nothing but more job options open in a time when I only have to do grunt work for another 18 months.
Uni has thrown me another unfavourable time table dashing all my hopes of holding a morning job. Thus the end of an era has arrived.
It is just a matter of time before I have to talk to Phillip and resign from my job of the last three years. Making it the only job I have walked away from while actually enjoying the work.
My work history has been an on going fight with management. Mainly because they are annoying bastards who dictate rules for a job they have never performed and hence no nothing about the intricate level of self organisation required to do the job with any level of competancy.
Safeway saw me struggling under the weight of two useless managers who both thought they had jusristiction over my job when neither of them had a clue about the effort required to actually do the job.
To be fair, everybody hated working at Safeway during the period I was there. To be even more fair, they hated it long before I got there and from what I understand they hated it long after too. I dated a girl who worked there several years after I left and she would continually be in tears after management made life a living Hell. Well, either that or she was a sook. I never got to the bottom of that one.
A regular topic of conversation was about how everyone hated the place and how they all wanted to quit.
I got sick of it all being useless words. What's the point of wandering around and whinging about not liking your job without letting the boss know? That won't change a thing.
So I hasseled the boss and got nowhere. They thought they were doing me a favour by giving me a shit job and trying to grind my arse to powder. No thanks. I was doing THEM a favour by taking their shitty job and doing better than they could have bought on my wage.
So I quit and they cried. The other workers questioned me, 'Why did you quit?' and I told them I was sick of whinging and any job was better than this shit heap.
I was wrong. Most jobs are better than that shit heap. Toys R Us wasn't.
That's where I ended up thanks to good old Matt. It really did help me initially. I have always strived to be financially independant and a job is necesary for that. I don't think I have ever taken money from the government (with the exception of my HELP fees, but I have to pay that back) and I rarely claim anything on tax. So a job was the only way to go.
The management there was starkly different from Safeway. They were completely apathetic. No training, nothing.
It's very hard to serve customers without any real understanding of the stores operations. I struggled through this one making JUST enough money to survive without begging and pleading to my parents for cash.
Eventually management changed and I picked up a few more shifts and then I started doing cheap work on the side from other employers and told Toys that they could keep me but I was only going to work the high paying shifts... so I got no shifts.
Then out of the blue I got a call that there was a new manager in town and I had a shift so they could check out my skills.
They didn't tell me the whole store had been completely renovated. Luckily the basic layout was the same so I wasn't completely over my head. They did make every single isle impossibly small to turn sideways in.
The new boss simply looked at me and thought 'Yep, biggish looking guy. He must be good at stock work.' It would have helped if he cared to check that I had over three years of customer service. So I got stuck with reorganising a small section. Apparently Matchbox cars was my 'special' section and I was responsible for making sure nothing was stolen from it. Fuck that. Pay me to come in and watch over it or I don't give a shit how much is taken from it while I am not there.
Anyways, I was getting unbelievably mad from trying to set up ladders and retrieve stock from the upper shelves when it was too confined to open a ladder without physically moving large quantaties of stock.
The boss then felt the need to tell me how much of a big shot money making manager he was.
I hate people like that. I shook his hand, he told me his name was Simon and then he told me the store started making 300% more profit since he rearranged the store so only a annorexic midgit could fit in the isles.
I asked him if the massive influx of money generated by the store affected my pay in any form and he said no.
I told him that I don't give a shit how much money the store makes. I didn't tell him how much of a cock head I thought he was.
I still don't understand why he felt the need to brag about how much money the store was making before even saying 'how are you?'.
I noticed that my shifts COMPLETELY disappeared after I hasseled the boss.
I didn't care that much because I was already working a different job.
I was the newest employee of East Fruit Market.
I got to move heavy boxes and get thanked for it. I got to serve customers when it was busy OR when I felt like it. I got to spend my time working doing any job in the shop I wanted as long as something productive was being accomplished. I got to wear whatever clothes I wanted. I didn't have to shave before work. I was allowed to wear a knife. Nobody cared if I showed up to work drunk/hungover. That was probably the best part.
I loved it at East Fruit Market. It is pretty much all run by the one family and I have seen a complete turnover of non-family of staff in the time I have been there.
People know my by name. They know what I am studying. They know I am a bagpiper and they stop and have a chat when they come into the shop and it is more like bumping into an old friend while working than serving a customer. It is brilliant.
I actually like my boss. There is no solid rules. He sets a shift and I rock up and work while I am there and go home with a bit of pay.
It is still the lowest paying job I have ever had, but I am still a firm believer in job satisfaction is more important than being bought to do a shit job. I wouldn't have been there so long if I didn't believe it.
We had a girl work there for a while and whinge about the low pay. I told her that she can find higher paying jobs but they are rarely as good as this job. She quit anyway and I bumped into her later and she had just quit a higher paying job elsewhere and was going to ask Phil for her job back. But it was filled... by me! Ahahaha.
Bartending is the same for me. I love the work and for some reason they get paid a shit load more than fruiterers even though the work is easier.
I have done a bit of rogue bartending. Working functions or one off gigs and finally I have been employed by a functions caterer that uses bartenders and since uni has dashed the times I work at the fruit shop and it looks like time I have to say good-bye to the old shop. Making it the first job I have ever quit without wanting to tear the throat out of my boss.
All that work history doesn't change the fact that I have my first week of holidays in three years.
Time to go and eat something. 7月8日 Race in for a beer.Adam has been corrupting my normally fine sense in choosing a Friday night venue and it was well worth it.
Last night I was asked to go to a wine tasting. Yeah, a wine tasting. I know everyone is now confused. I can almost hear the screams, 'Rone! What are you doing? That's wanker central and you don't drink much wine!'. I agree with you all, but there were several factors that I took into consideration.
My cousin Dave started mysteriously going to wine tastings a year or two ago. He discovered that it is a real good way to go to a cheap piss regularly. I liked the sound of this.
I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to laugh at pompus wankers while getting drunk. I wasn't particularly worried about being thrown out of a wine tasting.
Oh, did I mention it was a FREE wine tasting. As far as I'm concerned, putting 'free' and alcohol in the same context is as good as inviting me personally.
So Adam and I made our way down to Lamby's for the tasting only to find we got there an hour early. The best thing about being early had something to do with the Lamby's serving pints of Guinness for $4.
I am normally pretty apprehensive about a $4 pint of Guinness, but the bartender told us it was happy hour prices... and they lasted for another 5 hours. Sounds good to me.
The Guinness tasted good too. Very pleasant. I was at Irish last week and the Guinness was shit. I was very disapointed at that. I even quit drinking Guinness for that night. Lamby's really shone through last night.
Lamby's was also giving away a free takard with every two and a half pints.
Adam decided that he was going to shout me a few pints and we went through four in the hour before the tasting. Some wine-os asked if we were in the tasting and if so, why were we drimking so heavily before hand. Adam told them it was to lighten our pallets and I nearly spat a mouthfull of Guinness in their faces when I started laughing. I was drunk, everything was funny. Especially tools who took wine tasting seriously. I am surprised that Adam and I were the only people there for free piss.
The tasting didn't go exactly as expected. There was a beer in the tasting. It was called Ocean Lager and it is brewed by none other than Nick Koga. I went to school with this chop and he has got into the brewing business and he makes a damn fine drop, and at 5% it has a decent strength too. Make sure you go out of your way and get to the Nash, the BC or the Carlton to get a pint of this stuff, it might be pricey but it is worth it. It won't turn me off Guinness, but it is fucking fantastic.
The wines weren't that great. There was one I liked, but true to my style I forgot it's name and I will probably never find it again. Oh well, at least it was free.
Adam and I convinced some lady who said she would never drink beer to have some Ocean Lager and she disappeared pretty quickly after getting one. I laughed at this for a while. Nobody could work out why.
Adam and I got back on the Guinness after the wine was done and Reggie rocked up and promised to fund the drinking for the rest of the night.
Kareoke started and I went to Irish Murphy's to listen to Jibberish.
The night was getting a bit blurry at this stage, but eventually I wandered back to Lamby's and told the girls on the door that I was with Reg and they let me in without paying so I wandered around and couldn't find anyone, so I went and danced (badly) for a while.
I went back to the door girls and asked if Reg had left and they told me they didn't know who the Hell Reggie was. This was pretty great, I started wandering if I could have said any name and got in for free earlier, I will try this later.
I eventually went and sat on a couch and fell asleep. This was a good indication that it was home time. And that is exactly where I went.
The tally for the night was pretty decent. I gave Adam $10 for a few beer and I ended up getting fucked. Not the biggest night, but enough to make the walk home a staggered journey. I nearly considered jumping someone's fence and taking a nap in their yard.
The night ended. A nine hour session ending in a great sleep.
A great sleep that was fucking interrupted at 10 am. Fuck that, I like to sleep.
It was for a good reason. A bartender was needed. It was urgent. I was needed.
My cousin (funnily enough, Dave's wife) works as a catering chef for functions. Todays function was a racemeet at the Geelong Race Course, and the bartender for the owners and trainers bar was sick. This was my moment to shine. But first I needed to shower the stench of BO and smoke off my body and brush the smell and taste of 9 hours of drinking out of my mouth.
A fresh black shirt and pants. My good black shoes. My new watch slapped onto my wrist. My waiter's friend and barblade in my pockets and a dozen breathmints to chew on during the trip there and I was set.
I got there and found out I was working on my own. I also found out that there was nobody to tell me where the Hell anything was.
Everything was dirty and some guy wandered in and said I needed to look after the giant coffee urn too. I got to work and put all the glasses through the washer, set up everything where I wanted it, opened a few bottles of wine, got the coffee going and prepared for the worst.
What happened next wasn't the worst though. My boss came in and wacked the cash in the register, told me I was in charge and pointed out a few things around the bar and wandered off.
The next person who came in was the owner liason. Her job was to go around to owner's and have a chat to them and then make them come to the bar and give me more work. She was cool and the system worked. People come in and got a cheap beer and then had a fucking whinge that it wasn't free. Fucking tight arses. They own horses worth a fortune and crack the shits over a $2.50 beer.
They were a good crowd regardless. There was always a huge rush after each race and the day went by pretty smoothly. The hours flew by and eventually the liason said she was off to her night job as a caterer at functions for a different company and that I should close the bar when everyone leaves, which shpouldn't be long since it was dead outside.
Sure enough it turns out the winner of the last race was a Melbourne horse and all the owners and their families decided to go nuts and hit my bar and flooded the place just as I was about to shut.
Since I was never told a closing time I kept serving.
Eventually some chop named Brendan rocked up and went behind the bar and started pouring himself and his mates beers. It turns out he was a groundskeeper and staff drink for free. I didn't give a shit, he was serving other people too which made my job easier. The place was fucking packed and it really did help.
It took an extra hour and a half for everyone to filter out and eventually it was just Brendan there by himself on a mission to finish the last keg on his own. As far as I know he is still at it.
Since I am a good little Nazi, erm, I mean worker, I followed my orders and cleaned the till out and went to the signing office and signed off.
If things were going according to plan I should have been told where to bring the cash and then I could go home and finally eat something. But there wasn't a single person in site and the office was empty.
Of course I did what every responsible employee would do.
I jumped the counter and started making phone calls. After ten minutes I got onto my boss who was shocked that I was still here. I told here nobody told me when to stop so I kept working. Apparently I was meant to close up and let the groundskeepers and steward at the bar fifteen minutes after the last race. She conceeded that since nobody told me it was all cool.
Rumour had it that I handled the bar like a legend and kicked a degree of arse of the kind never seen before and they felt that it was a command from their God to give me a job, and now I will allow you to greet the newest functional bartender for the Geelong regional races and possibly the Werribee region too. I am a hero. Worship me.
On a side note, all these wankers with shit loads of money had a great time getting tanked at my bar after hours. Guess how much the bastards tipped. $2.60. Fuck that! That can't even get me a beer anywhere in Geelong outside of happy hours! What a crock of shit. Some bugger even told me to get a hair cut, but to be fair, he told EVERYONE to get a hair cut.
I am just shocked that they were the worst tippers I have ever served.
Time for me to try and go and get drunk, for I deserve it. 7月6日 Looks like I'm hoofing it.The transition from car to bike was an easy move for me. I used to ride a lot when I was younger and I can generally get to most places in Geelong in about the same time it would take me driving in heavy traffic and catching a few reds, so I wasn't too fussed about being on the pushie for a few weeks.
There were down points though. Apart from the obvious fact that there isn't a single driver in Geelong who knows how to obey bike lanes is a minor set back. It doesn't take long to get used to the fact that every driver is on a personal vendetta to end the lives of cyclists. I've had pretty much a decade of road cycling to take this into consideration, it becomes second nature to avoid certain death.
The real downer came today when I had to get up and cycle to work at the crack of dawn this morning. Actually, I had to leave before dawn. That's not the point.
I got about half way to work and my tyre just went flat. What was worse was that I left my pump at home. A pump is no good during a puncture unless I have a puncture repair kit, which I don't. It just happened to be the first thing that popped into my head. Shit, flat, no pump.
I rode to work regardless, which wasn't too fun since the bike had no suspension and I could feel every bump shake my arse.
When I got a moment to inspect the tyre is turns out the puncture was a disaster waiting to happen. There were at least six spots where the tyre had completley worn out and left no protection for the inner-tube.
Due to money shortages I can't exactly afford to fix the bloody thing right now. Meaning I have gone from driving to riding to walking, and walking sucks.
There is a big difference between an eight minute ride and a half hour walk.
Long story short, if you have a car and live in Geelong, expect a call from me expecting a lift at any stage over the next week. 7月3日 Nearly doneOver the last couple of weeks I have lost a lot of things.
My car is gone, one boss won't give me any shift and the other has had to cut back a lot of my work because the business isn't making enough money. I have two decent looking job prospects, but I can't make a go of them without a car.
My girlfriend is overseas.
I spent all my money (all $20 of it) on drinking.
The shitty audience for this site has all but dried up. I'm only getting a minute fraction of the old numbers. Maybe you guys aren't as stupid as I thought, you eventually realised how terrible the crap I spill out is. I've run this site for about a year and a half, that's usually how long I run a site before I quit and consider what to do next.
I can honestly say that I have never felt better. I spent the whole weekend either asleep or out with mates.
I realised that I miss Anna more than anything.
My volunteer work experience at CSIRO is going great. I hope to finish a robotics program tomorrow that can prepare six ELISA plates in a fraction of the time it would take a person to do it, all fully customisable.
I managed to fix my bike and I have been having a blast riding around dashing between errands and jobs.
I had my mentor promise to get me into an honours program after uni.
I even shaved my beard off.
I sat up the entire of last night watching my favourite DVDs and I got straight up for work and just felt great. I still haven't slept and I don't feel sleepy.
I guess what I want to say is bite me. This could be my last entry. At least for a while. I have always hated writing happy posts, and I am not feeling angry at all. 6月29日 Stay where you are.Oh TV, why does though hate me?
Is it because I never watch you, or is it some huge cosmic power that tries to balance things out when I am an arsehole to the retards in the general public?
Well, the answer is no. TV has always been shit, TV is shit and TV will always be shit. But this crap with our 'news' shows has gone too far.
First it's all about the Australia wide 'consipracy' that higher quality foods cost more and now while watching the midday news (due to the fact that I couldn't find a paper) I heard the worst news I have ever bore withness to in my whole life.
Schapelle Corby might be coming back to Australia... in less than 20 years. If I wasn't such a perfect specimen of manhood I would have cried like a little girl with a skinned knee.
The Australian and Indonesian governments are currently negotiating a deal to do prisoner exchanges. At this stage it looks like we might be able to reclaim some of the people detained for drug smuggling. Yay, I can barely contain my excitement at having my taxes now pay for the detainment of retarded smack-heads who try to get a quick dollar by ruining people's lives.
On the upside Indonesia looks like denying us the right to recover people sentenced to death. At least that rules out a few of the fuckwits in the Bali 9.
At least John Howard's government is negotiating something that is breast, whoops, I mean BEST for our foreign criminals. Aren't elections coming up soon? Wasn't Schapelle a complete bleeding heart story?
At least the deal looks like the other country has to fully respect the judgement passed down in the foreign courts.On the other hand I have been reading about prisoners who should be in jail living under house arrest.
If by some freak chance that Schapelle ends up out of prison I will probably go balistic. When did Australia start coddling convicted drug smugglers? Why does the same country ban drug dealers from certain Melbourne suburbs?
Leave Schapelle to rot in her Bali prison. Have some balls Australia. Show that a big-titted beautician in tears with a piss weak story doesn't get special consideration because the bleeding heart general public feel sorry for her. We have laws, respect them. Indonesia don't pussy about when it comes to drugs, they will fuck you up for it, and justly so.
Why do we need to be the joke of the world out to rescue our useless scum-of-the-Earth drug smugglers?
The only way I could possibly gain any respect for the new deal would be if the Australian government sent back EVERY Indonesian criminal in our jails and took back no Australians. If someone else wants to front the costs for housing prisoners instead of us attempting to rehabilitate them back into society let them do it.
Fuck Schapelle. Everyone else wants to. 6月27日 Get your hand off it.Before I get started I have to admit that the full extent of this part of my rage is slightly due to the facts that I both own a brain and tried to relax after a long day at work by watching TV. The two should not be mixed.
I am refering to the quality show on Channel 7 known only as Today Tonight.
They had a story on fruit and veg, and it initially caught my eye since my work as a fruiterer earns the majority of my wage. I was desperately hoping for it to be a story about how increasing fuel prices are driving up produce costs and how supermarkets are undermining local small businesses.
I can hear what you are thinking, and yes, it is my fault for expecting TV to provide a usefull story on a current affairs program.
The story that Today Tonight aired nearly drove me into a murderous fit. I was just about to strap my fruiterer knife to my belt and go to town on anyone who got in my path.
The story was about how the richer suburbs of cities get better quality (and more expensive) fruit and veg than the shops in the less financially stable suburbs who get lower quality and thus, cheaper stock.
No shit, that was what the story was about. It was alerting us to the fact that independant business people were not willing to provide a product that would not sell.
I have seen two varieties of the same fruit being sold side-by-side. One being great quality and the other of lesser quality, with the lesser quality being cheaper, simply because it was in less demand and cheaper to buy from the market. Guess which sold better?
That's right, the cheaper one. We actually lost money due to the fact that there was a cheaper alternative available.
You will never guess what my boss did at the next order. He ordered more of the cheap product and none of the more expensive one. He did this because he has a brain and he didn't want to throw away money on a product that wasn't going to profit from just so the customers can look at the expensive fruit and daydream about the endless options of food they can buy.
It might be worth pointing out that the shop I work at isn't in the richest suburb of Geelong. We sell (lots of) cheap tomatoes and apples. We sell very few expensice bananas and strawberries. Therefore we stock the things we actually sell. It isn't a huge fucking conspiracy. People in poorer suburbs cannot afford to buy expensive food when cheaper foor does the same job.
On the same hand, rich people don't want to buy asthetically damaged food because they are tight arsed wankers who think every problem can be solved by throwing money at it.
But get this, they didn't stop insulting my intelligence there. Far from it.
They then said there was a big difference between age between the two strata. They were claiming that apples can be up to two years old in poor suburbs.
I used to own an apple tree, and I have kept apples in the fridge, and in dry storage and I have NEVER seen one reach the age of two without turning into mould. I'm not saying that it is impossible, but I highly doubt it.
They also didn't say what particular stock from each strata they were analysing for age. As a fruiterer I occasionally hear stories of lazy stockmen who don't rotate their stock well and the fruit at the back can get old, but that doesn't mean it is old from the market. The fact that most produce disappear seasonally suggests strongly that there isn't an 'age old' stock of produce available to buy. Why would someone keep them right through the off season, risk losing stock and then sell it during on season against fresh competition (rather then NO competition) for cheap? It makes no sense.
Texture quality and taste can vary within the one box! They are also highly seasonal and it depends on stock rotation. It is bullshit to even consider comparing the two strata.
They then got their dietician out of storage so she could tell us that eating food that is stored at room temperature for long periods of time isn't as good for us as nice, crispy fresh fruit. No shit. May I also remind you that shops in less financially supported regions have a harder time selling high quality stock, and thus it sits on the shelf longer than the less visably appealing stock... at room temperature. Thus it is worse for you.
It may also be worth noting that their dietician didn't have the wonderful title of 'Dr.' in front of her name. This really made me trust her logic.
Maybe her opinion was valid. Dr. Morris was next on call from the sterling team at Today Tonight.
No shit, this is a direct quote:
'Sweet and acid were the two things we tested'.
Wow, lucky they were tasting sweet. They weren't testing for sugar content, but rather this magical property known apparently only to Dr. Morris and Today Tonight as 'sweet'.
The website states that products such as potatoes, apples, tomatoes and grapes were tested for appearance, texture (huge difference between these two), colour intensity (wow, I am glad we aren't STILL dealing with the asthetic appeal of the food), juiciness and defects inside and out.
WAIT! I thought they said they were tested for 'sweet' and acid! Nowhere on the hugely asthetic list was sugar content or pH (acidity and alkalinity) measured. How exactly was the 'sweet' and acid determined?
I haven't worked out exactly how the two qualities in question were determined through the factors they decided to observe. Maybe all my study in analytical chemistry truly was for no purpose.
Here is where probably the biggest insult lies. They have already established that fruit shops in rich suburbs sell higher quality food than low income areas. It now suggests that the higher quality food is sold at a higher price! Holy shit! Who would have thought that food that costs more to buy wholesale would cost more in retail too?!
It MUST be a conspiracy!
I like I have actually lost intelligence after watching that show. I hope one of their producers stumbles apon this article. 6月26日 What do you expect?I am just letting you bastards know that this isn't a comment response.
I didn't do one. I didn't do one on Saturday either.
I now have a heap of unattended comments that will go unresponded simply because I can't be fucked getting back to them. I might someday, but not now. It is too fucking boring and I have better things to do.
Instead I will let you know I am back at the CSIRO. I also have no car and only 20c to my name.
My driver's lisence has expired and my bagpipes are chronically out of tune and harder than normal.
I possess no beer or any alcohol of any kind.
I don't have any phone credit and my work has been cut back to one day a week.
All this taken into account, I am better than you and will continue to be so.
I don't have much to say today so that will do.
Oh yeah. Anyone up for a bit of fun this weekend, there is a good chance I will be piping with Jibberish at the Grovedale Hotel. Feel free to go there and buy me beers.
It is also the three year party at Irish Murphy's THIS Saturday. I won't be bagpiping, but feel free to buy me beers none-the-less. 6月23日 I'm still mad at you chops.I got the phone call today.
It was incredibly nerve wracking and I quickly summed up all the outside factors.
The result was in though. Insurance companies are officially complete arse fucking shit faced cock sucking bastards with no consideration of other people's conditions. I want to learn more offensive words to describe them. My car is officially a write-off despite the fact that the fucking thing STILL works and only has asthetic damages. Good work you guys. Is taking a working car from people who need them what you do when your not anally raping grandmothers?
Technically I am not even allowed to drive my car at all since it has officially made a write off, but they can get fucked if they think they can give me no notice when I need to drive all over Geelong this weekend.
On the upside I get to plan for my next car. Guess what I am going for.
That's right. I'm sure you all got it on the first guess. I am aiming for an early model Holden Commodore. Preferably another VB, but nobody can tell the difference between that and a VC so I'll settle for either. Dad has even started making some inquiries for me. As good as that makes me feel it doesn't take away the fact that insurance companies are complete arseholes.
In completely unrelated news I managed to get myself kicked out of my first night club for the year. It took me six months, that has to be some kind of record for me.
Basically I was shitfaced and had no money and you will all thank me when I don't regail you with all the events as me pissing up with mates is rarely enjoyable unless you are there, and even that's not a gaurantee.
There were highlights of the night when Adam threw a soccer ball in the middle of kareoke, missed the people he was throwing it at. In fact he completely cleared the crowd and smashed some glasses at the bar. Good work Adam.
Anyhoo. I went into Club 4Play, or whetever they call that shithouse in the old Soma building and I went straight to the bar and ordered a scotch. I didn't like the type of scotch they poured and I also didn't want to pay $6.50 for it so I told the bartender to get fucked and I will give him $4 for it.
The bartender told me to leave.
I told him to stop peddling useless scotch at insane prices.
The bartender told the bouncer to make me leave.
I reminded the bartender that he was a useless pain in the arse.
The bouncer removed me.
I was kind of relieved though. Not just at the fact that I was removed and now have something new to chuck in my 'useless stats' area, but moreso in the fact that if he agreed to take the $4 I was fucked. I didn't even have it. I wasn't even close. I had 75c.
Dangerous night.
Back to the moral of the article. I am better than all of you. Bow down and beg for mercy. 6月22日 I am unbeleivably mad at you. Yeah, you.That's right. I'm back. Exams are over. I have no more study to do and since my last article there has been a plethora of people just lining up to piss me right off, and they thought that they got away with it. Wrong arseholes. Well, there were a small group of protestors that I am going to let off (for now), but that was simply because it was fairly topical and a while ago and my opinions of student unionisation will lead into a huge rant about how shit DUSA is and that will take all my time just writting about how the university that is in charge of my education cannot even include the establishment of a competant student union. That will wait for later.
Number one on my list - Debbie.
I was in a car accident a few weeks back. Thanks Debbie.
Anything you have ever heard about women drivers is true. I am nowhere near a great driver, and sometimes I feel pretty bad just saying I am a competant driver, but I usually obey the basic traffic laws and I haven't intentionally broken a traffic law since I was 18. I feel that is was acceptable when I was 18 though. Who doesn't want to know the top speed of a 1980 Holden VB Commodore?
Anyway. Debbie absolutley made my day near the Daytona Go-Karts in Belmont.
I was heading towards town and Debbie was two cars in front of me, and anyone who has been on that road will know the sweeping turn this happened on. Debbie kindly inicated that she wanted to turn right and moved into the turning lane. That's fine. It's cool to turn. Cars are made to do that. Very acceptable.
Now she suddenly decides that she doesn't particularly want to turn right any more. Something must have tripped in her brain because she outright forgot to indicate when she swerved back into my lane without any form of indication.
There was a car between us at this stage and due to being on a hill I lost sight of her in front of the other car.
The next thing I notice is break lights. The only thing running through my head is 'Wow, shitty driver, they must be speeding and slowing down for the green light in case any cops are about'. So i do the natural thing and start applying my brakes and this is my biggest reason to take cars off stupid people. I went straight into the arse of the car in front of me. Yep, that's right. Three car pile-up.
But I can hear you all saying 'Hey Rone, you said you applied your brakes!'. And that's exactly what I did, but I didn't take into consideration that someone would swerve suddenly out of my vision and SLAM on their brakes in the middle of a green light. She didn't slow down on the green, she completely stopped! And she was driving a shitty hatchback that can stop dead if you breath too heavily on the breaks. The guy in front had a decent car with decent brakes and was able to stop quick but still make contact. Me cruising along in my 1.8 tonne shit box with the assumption that people usually drive through green lights didn't stand a chance. By the time I realised they had stopped dead I was still going 50 and slammed the brakes and cruised nicely into them.
I was travelling into town because I was a designated driver. I have people in my car waiting to get to a party.
All three cars pulled off the road and we went to establish our stories and things went pretty well. We all had it agreed that she swerved and stopped dead in our lane and we went up the arse of her.
Because we agreed the cops didn't need to come out, but we all decided to go to the cop shop and lodge an incident report.
The next bit is shitty.
Debbie's car battery dies. The guy in front of me and myself are blocked in by her. Did she ask if any of us could help. No. She sent her husband out walking for help. Yeah, that took the best part of forever to do.
Anyone who has seen my shit box would realise that I would be crazy to drive ANYWHERE without a tool kit, extra hoses and a set of fucking jumper leads.
I leant all my tools to the guy in the middle and he did some on site repairs to his cars and eventually Debbie got her car started and decided to stand around chatting to people on the scene for fucking ages. Eventually the guy in the middle and I cracked it and asked if she could move as we wanted to get to the cop shop and not stand by the side of the road forever.
She moved her car and said she would see us at the station soon.
The guy in the middle and I got to the cop shop and lodged our reports. The cop has looked at mine and said 'You went into the back, 99% of the time you were at fault, let me talk to my superior', and off he walked. He came back and said because she was clearly an insane lunatic (maybe he didn't use those EXACT words) I was cleared. He also said if her story was the same as ours she was going to receive an on the spot fine. Brilliant. How could this go wrong? Escpecially since we all had the story agreed apon at the scene.
Well, the answer to that has to do with the fact that she NEVER SHOWED UP at the fucking station.
The cop was an absolute champ and rang her... lots. He even went over and visited her and she didn't answer the door. He eventually caught up with her six bloody days later and asks what her story was.
It was pretty much the same as what we already filed with the slight difference. She is claiming that both the other cars drifted across into her lane at the same time and ran up the arse of her. Yep. She honestly expects people to beleive that we both slammed on our breaks independantly and swerved into her lane and crashed.
This now means that we all have to go in and make official statements and it has to go through the police system. The other downside is the insurance, especially when the cops can't come to a conclusion until the finding is done and it looks like I ran up the back of two people and will continue to look that way until the cops say 'Debbie is insane, Rone kicks too much arse to be at fault for other people's inability to drive properly'.
Of course this all happened right in the middle of the time at uni when ALL of my assignments are due. Great. Insurance and study are two things that mad me more mad than anything on the face of the planet.
Thanks Deb, I really appreciate your willingness to lie to authorities to try and peg the blame on a uni student because you are too cowardly to own up to your own fuck-ups. I hope this goes to court. I imagine they miss me since my last visit.
Person number two - I tricked you, it's not a person! It's a shit house insurance company.
This insurance company does everything it can to look out for me. Basically I give them heaps of money to insure the car and when it is crashed and the only damage being to the hood panel, front grill, headlight brackets and pumper clips they decide to tell me that there is a bloody high chance that the cost of repair will exceed market value.
The problem is that the market value of my shit box is in the range of $20-30. It is shit. But it runs on gas. It is very cheap to run and it is currently the ONLY car I can afford to run.
Well kiddies, then the cost of repairing a car exceeds market value, insurance companies really look after their customers by taking their fucking car and giving them the market value in cash. Great. How good a car do you recon I get for the value of my shit box that will run on my budget?
For those of you out there who don't know, the only car I have ever liked was a 1980's VB Holden Commodore and I was forced to sell it for $100 because I couldn't afford the petrol each week. That's why I have a shit box that runs on gas. I can't afford to drive a car if it doesn't run on gas.
When asked if I can just keep the car I have now and use that even though it is damged they simply responded 'No'. So I backed it up a bit more by saying it still works and I simply don't care about the damage, it's all basically asthetic and I don't give a shit what it looks like and they still responded that they will just come and take it away. Great. Some cock-faced insurance company is going to come around and take my car away unless some mechanics will fix it for cheap, and that's never going to happen. I would rather have a shit car than one I can't use. I am so glad insurance companies would rather take away my car rather than let me keep it at no cost to them. Fuck them in the ear.
Person number three - Erin McDonald.
My stupid fucking sister is living at home again and being a completely annoying pain in the fucking arse. I hate the fact that I tend to get kicked out of home if I try and snap her nose.
I went to have dinner with the family and sat down at the seat that my plate was already placed at. It was already placed there because I have sat in the spot nearly every night for dinner for the past five years.
Erin eventually comes to the table after cooking vegetarian suasages (which resmbled what I can I only describe as 'deep fried shit') and she decides to make a comment.
'You're sitting in my seat'. I quickly told her that I've been sitting her the last five years and that the only reason she ever sits there is because she rushes to the table for it.
Erin goes fucking nuts. Storms off. Right up to the other end of the house. The rest of the family eats in piece. And enjoys it.
Unfortunatly she came back and started eating at the bench. It didn't worry me. She eats like a fucking animal and there is nothing more desturbing than sitting across from her when she eats.
I finished dinner before my folks and brought my dish to the sink and made dessert and went back to the table and the filthy bitch took my seat... between courses.
I asked what the fuck she was doing in my seat and she said she thought I had left. I told her I was back for dessert and she could get out of my seat this instance before I throw her outside. Typically, she stormed off and went up the other end of the house. I ate my dessert. It was good. My folks ate their dinner. That was also good.
I go back to my room and find my chair slashed.
I am mad.
I go to the kitchen and ask who had slashed my chair. Mum said no. Dad said no. Erin said no. I told Erin to get fucked and stop being such a dishonest pain in the arse. Mum told me to watch my language.
Mum came up to check the damage. She double checked that I couldn't have accidently done it and I said I didn't, so she went into Erins room and found a nice big pair of scissors. Mum said there was nothing I could do since she denied it.
I was furious.
I went back to the kitchen and yelled at Erin some more. I then told her if I got the same piss weak story from a bloke I would break his rib. I was nearly mad enough to cop the homelessness and belt her anyway.
I went back to my room.
The slashed chair made me even madder.
I then realised that Erin knows I am mad enough to hit her. This is useful to me.
I went storming back down to the kitchen and she was cooking some shit house vegetarian turds and I threw a pair of socks into the back of her head (yeah, I'm tough) and got right in her face and yelled at her until I was blue in the face. The moral of my yelling was that she should move back to Melbourne and stay there once and for all.
Mum wasn't very pleased.
I was quite happy. I went and played with the dog.
Baz was happy too.
Mum told me to chill out and that Erin was moving soon and we could all relax.
Then mum went and had a go at Erin.
I went to band. When I got back Erin was still being a lazy bitch, and Mum was still having a go at her for being a stupid tool.
Life is good. It would be better if Erin fucked off.
I've had enough ranting tonight. I'm going to get up early in the morning for work, make heaps of noise, wake Erin up and then go to work satisfied that I get to play with knives for three hours before coming home to deal with the consequences. 5月11日 The day study became uncool.Despite being sick for a bit a while back I managed to get ahead on one of big assignments for my plant biotechnology class. When I say getting ahead I mean that I started doing it four days before it was due. Sure that's a little bit late in the fourteen day timeline, but it's a lot better than the last day which is when my assignments usually get done.
I will try not to bore you (for once) with the details of the write up I have to do, but I decided I would be a good boy and read a few extra sources and part of the readings I did was about a pathogen (disease) that we infected one of the plants with. Well, the disease we used was calls Peronospora parasitica and I didn't know EXACTLY what it did so I went a decent journal on plant phytology (plant diseases) and I found an article with a title including 'Hylaperonospora parasitica (formally known as Peronospora parasitica)' from 2003.
Since that was a few years ago and the fact the scientists tend to go a bit nuts when naming things, especially diseases, a few of the cogs in my head started turning.
Either we were using a disease that happened to be named the exact same name that a previous disease used to have. This is not impossible, especially if the diseases are similar.
The other option was for us to be working on a prac over three years old which in itself is highly likely, yet has implications if it wasn't and there was a name change.
So I did the smart thing and email one of the lab demonstrators. Since they were the actual ones who dealt with the pathogen on a close and personal level I was certain they would know the truth of the mystery.
Since I am a bit anal when I write reports I didn't want to write too far ahead especially since there was a bit of a risk involved and I didn't want to have to re-write large sections and re-do all the referrencing, which is a huge pain in the arse. Even bigger than the pain induced when I shove every member of the Church of Scientology up Tom Cruise's arse if I ever have to see his idiotic smug face again.
I had sent an email to the lab workers earlier in the year and got a response within two hours so I saw this whole situation as a temperary hold-up. Logically I sent the email to the demonstrator who responded quickly last time instead of the one who never responded.
A whole day passed and there was no response in regards to my query. To make matters worse the OTHER demonstrator sent out a mass email regarding some problems other students had when trying to access the online download system to get some result files last minute.
The situation is that now the report is due at 5pm TODAY (note how cool I am sitting up at 2am). I cannot write any further without feeling confident and I will only have an hour and a half tomorrow when I finally find the demonstrators to grill them over this, which isn't anywhere near enough time, and since it is last minute there is no chance in Hell of getting an extension even though I presented my problems days in advance.
Much crapness is implied in this rubbish.
The moral of the story is I would have had a completed B-grade report finished by now if I didn't try and do the right thing and research the materials we are working with, especially when Deakin has either provided me with outdated experiments or a severe lack of information.
Time for me to get some sleep. I have a feeling I am going to be doing a LOT of fast typing tomorrow afternoon. 5月9日 Just a couple of points.I have two points to crap on about today. I feel they are both terribly important, which is a pretty good indication that they probably have no significant bearing on anyone. Even with that said I am certain at least one idiot is going to take the time to read this nonsense.
My first point is how annoyed I am at every single television statement for getting excited over the Beaconsfield incident. I didn't particularly feel like I needed the small amount of time I spend watching television to be constantly interrupted to let me know that drills take time to tunnel through rock.
I would have been quite happy with perhaps a small mention every couple of days in regards to the incident, but to have every bloody station send reporters over to Tasmania and broadcast every news report from out the front of a mine just pissed me off.
Seriously, if a mine collapsed who do you expect to get trapped? My bet is on miners. Guess who got trapped! It was miners.
The next step was to locate them. This was one of the highlights of the incident for me. The news coverage pretty much stopped and was reduced to simply stating that rescuers were looking for to miners yet to be located.
Then they found the miners and the news covereage went ape shit. Every single reporter on the mainland migrated to Tasmania and presented a report about every kilo of rubble removed.
Then the recuers got a big enough hole to the survivors big enough to give them food, drink, magazines and such. To me this signifies the urgency of the situation. They seem pretty ok. They aren't going to starve or dehydrate. Essentially they are just locked in a small room with no door for the time being.
Yet for some reason the news had to report on every minor decision the rescue crew made as if it was life or death for the miners and made it out like this had to be done soon or there would be nothing but trouble for everyone despite the fact the miners were recieving all the supplies they needed for the time.
Then they got let out and were ok, which was pretty surprising since they had a stream of food and supplies sent to them and constant medical checks via remote camera.
Now they are doing constant updates on the two guys who survived. I feel sorry for the family of the guy who died but I just can't bring myself to care about the two survivors.
The other thing I wanted to talk about was a cool thing I found out about cheese.
My sister was crapping on about vegetarian cheese so I told her that cheese wasn't made of meat and then she said that cheese was made with animal stomachs and I checked this out with good old Wikipedia and found out that cheese is coagulated with enzymes from the fourth stomach of ruminants (usually from baby cows).
I never knew that about cheese and it has opened up a whole new world of respect for the humble block of tasty cheese. Just remember everytime you enjoy cheese a baby cow has died. Brilliant.
Enjoy cheese. 5月8日 I'm going to quit university.Quitting uni has suprisingly little to do the the complete crapness of DUSA and the fact that every single person involved with any decision making process at Deakin is a complete tool.
Nor does it have to do with the incredibly large population of vegetarians who are on campus for no other apparent reason than to piss me off.
It has nothing to do with the massive pile of assignments that I have to finish at the speed of light.
It has to everything to do with the fact that my new friend Adam and I have developed a new range of aphrodisiacs and potential repellants and I want to market them and make millions of dollars.
It all goes back a number of weeks to my animal biology lab class. The big task for the day was to disect a worm. To make this easier we had to bathe the worm in a fair amount of water. This caused all the internal organs to float about nicely instead of just clumping together.
While I was in the process of jerry-rigging a system to balance the disection tray very precariously on a whole variety of different lab objects I somehow managed to spill the entire volume of liquids down the front of my lab coat and pants.
The liquid was quickly named 'worm juice' and I left the room in good humour to get as much of the shit off my pants as possible. Believe it or not, I don't like the attention I get when I have a huge wet stain down the front of my pants, but then again, there is no such thing as bad publicity aparently.
Funnily enough the next night I met the special person currently in my life and things have been great. Well, great apart from when I stir up shit, but that's what I do.
Adam and I laughed about this, but during the next lab we were disecting a snail. I bet you couldn't have worked out that we called the liquid in the snail disection tray 'snail juice'.
Adam decided it was his turn to take a hit for the team and he spilt the 'snail juice' down the front of himself. He was really cool about it too. He even pretended that it was an accident.
It was a fair few days before I saw Adam again and he informed me that he got onto a bit of action the other night. We concluded that 'snail juice' must also be an aphrodisiac, but since snails are considerable slower than worms (which can be surprisingly quick) we decided that 'snail juice' is slower to kick in.
We discussed our find in the latest lab for quite a while and while we were cutting up our latest specimen (a cockroach, possibly one of the stinkiest pieces of shit you can open up) we theorised about the possibly outcomes of 'cockroach juice'.
We agreed that it would probably attract blokes and both of us acted very carefully so our tray would not get spilled.
To our amusement Claire spilled some 'cockroach juice' on her jacket during clean-up. This changed everything.
If it attracted blokes to Claire than it could still be a heterosexual attractant. This made things different as our original thoughts were that it would be a homosexual attractant.
We left with eagerness to hear of what happened to Claire.
We bumped into Claire today and began our interrogation. It turns out her boyfriend was extra affectionate when they first met and then when he found out there were coachroaches involved he did a backflip and went weird for days. We decided that this was inconclusive and we need to run more random test subjects.
With this in mind I have decided to quit uni and chop up animals and pour the fluids mixed with water onto people and monitor the attractant and repulsion based on the animal used.
Nobel prize here I come! 5月4日 I asked for this.I spent a bit of my downtime due to illness thinking about what I can write on this space to make for an interesting read, but alas, I have been forced to put it all aside due to recent allegations that I have backflipped on my standings on vegetarianism.
I was both shocked and horrified when I heard these claims, especially when I tend to go out of my way to eat animals as opposed to eating a meal exclusively made out of plants. At one stage I considered eating my suede jacket as I knew the suede was once part of a cow.
I have always stated that there are several circumstances for which I tolerate vegetarianism. One being religion. I don't mess with other people's religions providing they allow me to continue my existence as a red meat loving atheist in peace.
I was recently presented with a reason for vegetarianism being 'to piss off my parents'. I was a bit torn by this one. Although I value the desire to rip flesh apart with my teeth very high I also respect the desire to piss other people off for no good reason.
The person who did use the 'pissing off the parents' reason has also cooked me meals with meat in it, therefore facilitating my desire to eat things that once had a face.
Now for the big statement none of you could have seen coming:
I still don't believe in vegetarianism.
In my honest opinion it is completely un-natural. Our bodies simply don't produce certain proteins that are essential for healthy life. These proteins are found readily in red meat, thus it is likely that we evolved eating meat and are still dependant on it. It is possible (yet so extremely unlikely it's not funny) that someone out there has a mutation that allows them to produce these proteins and their componants, yet this would require a very different biochemical system inside their body.
I imagine that this hypothetical person would still probably suffer from iron deficiancies.
For the clowns out there that are thinking 'I'm not made of metal, why do I need iron?', I will lay down the simple answer. You only need iron if you like the ability to circulate oxygen to your brain and other vital organs.
Iron is a componant of haem. Haem is a componant of haemoglobin. Haemoglobin is found in the red blood cells of mammals and it binds to four oxygen molecules and transports them to parts of the body that needs oxygen.
Basically, iron is pretty damn important. Since red meat is packet with iron and essential proteins it seems to make sense to eat a few slabs of meat as opposed to radically changing your whole diet and possibly taking suplements in the form of tablets to make up for a readily available dietry componant.
The structure of teeth in humans also support an evolutionary basis of eating meat.
We have cuspids, also known as canines.
They function to hold food in place while it gets torn apart. There aren't many plants out there that need to be held still to be eaten. These teeth evolved from a hunting past. When the prey was caught and torn apart. Dogs still act this way. Dogs also have large cuspids. They are the big fang-like teeth in their jaw.
Horses don't eat meat at all. They don't have cuspids either. Just about every single herbiverous mammal lacks cuspids while every carnivourous mammals not only have cuspids, but also extra teeth designed solely for sheering meat.
Humans are omniverous. We have simply evolved to eat both meat and plants and our bodies just don't work properly without meat.
For my second last pro-meat point; the taste. There is something beautiful in the taste of a properly cooked piece of meat. Be it a spit roasted pig or a rare steak, the taste is always great. Go to a restaurant and watch people order food. See how many say 'I'll have the chicken parma with salad' as opposed to 'I'll have the salad with a chicken parma'. Not going to happen. People desire the meat. They crave it. It's evident in kids. They don't like to eat their greens. I don't hear many complaints of kids who eat all their salad and don't like the taste of meat. Never happens.
I'll tell you a quick yet true story from when I was younger. Mum and Dad like to remind me of this story whenever my sister (a vegetarian) is being troublesome.
Way back when I was a little kid and I was decided that I didn't want animals to die so I told my parents that I was going to be a vegetarian.
They responded by telling me that being a vegetarian meant I couldn't eat any kind of meat, including roasts.
Realising my stupid error I retracted my desire to become a vegetarian and took a new stance in which I now try to eat as many animals as I can in any one meal.
The last point for pro-meat is the satisfaction of being on top of the food chain.
Basically, we rule. If an animal looks tasty we kill it and eat it. Satisfaction. That is our advantage. If we want we can eat crocodiles, or dog, or if you live in Germany and post wanted ads in the right paper, you can eat other people.
Cows are big animals and usually hang around in big numbers that can be quite intimidating. But last time I checked, they were between the buns of my hamburger. Satisfying.
A roast covered in gravy. That translates to meat covered in more meat. Most likely from a different animal. That means that at least two animals died for me to have one meal.
I think I have made my point. Nature has selected for humans to eat meat. We are made to do it. We even desended from hunter-gatherer societies.
We rule. Make it your goal to eat an animal larger than you today! 5月3日 I'm a baretender, I'm OK, I tend all night and I sleep all day...That's right arse-bandits. I got the job.
I am not the Clarendon's newest bartender.
I would like to say it has been my life long dream, but really it has only been my goal for a bit over a year. At least my goals are accomplished and I can now have weekends on both sides of the bar. I finally have a legitimate excuse to use all my shiny bar tools that I bought ages ago before I worked at the footy club. I better practice that useless spinning crap for the bar-blade. That is very important.
The manager is meant to call be by Sunday to let me know when I am working next. This time for solid cash, unlike all that trial work I did out of the kindness of my heart. And who said I wasn't a good bloke. I always try to give my time to facilitate in the degredation of cognition in bar patrons.
I am very excited by this and I will indeed be wasting my entire first payment on useless rubbish as is my tradition of spending when at a new job. I might even be able to give away my very early morning shifts on Saturday at the fruit shop, which means I can kick back and enjoy the late night pints at Irish once more and not feel guilty about going to K-Caff for the magnificant K Special burger until three in the morning when I have to be at work in a few hours. Life is good.
I have done three of their four busiest shifts during my trial and I feel I managed really well. I never really had the feeling of being over-run so I am hoping that is a good sign.
If I get the footy shifts I expect to see all the champion Geelong supporters out there swing by both before and after the game for a drink. The pints go down well and they are reasonably priced.
I am going to wander off before you all get sick of me being in a good mood. 4月24日 Perhaps I should explain myself.Nothing is really happing in the Rone department tonight in Geelong.
I was quite clever by making the decision to not take my tonsilitis medication on the weekend so I could go out drinking for Manny's 21st.
It was a good night, but you will never guess what happened. I got sick again the next day, so I am not rugged up on ANZAC day eve trying to work out if it is better to go to bed now and try and get up early in the morning for dawn service preparation or to stay up all night and not have to worry about wanting to sleep in.
Since I am a uni student and thus allowed to make bad decisions without a thought to how responsible the actions are towards my health I have decided to stay awake all night. Thrilling.
Part of the activities I have decided to undertake tonight to keep me awake involved working on my site a bit more. I thought a new article would be nice, yet I know it can be boring to read about how I went out drinking with old friends on the weekend so I refuse to tell you about it. Instead I am going to tell you about a few of the updates I have made to some of the more mundane areas of this site.
I have decided to try my hand at a bit more stupid photography and have started the (woeful) rock star diaries photo album.
The whole basis of the project is to take the photo of as many people as I can be bothered taking the photo of. The catch is that the have to wear a terrible pair of sunglasses that used to be owned by my dad.
They are an old pair of aviators. Not like those new aviators that people like Jack and the drummer from Spiderbait wear, but the old crappy style that was popular in the 70's. Rock on. If you happen to see me about, odds are that I have both my camera and dad's sunnies on me so I will be more than happy to humiliate you over the internet for my own amusement.
The other part of my site that I am working on involves the rating of the sites of people who take the time to annoy me with useless comments.
The three categories are basically sites that are worth reading, sites that are worth reading if you are mentally handicapped and sites that are never worth viewing otherwise you may feel the need to become mentally handicapped.
This is a work in progress and I am slowly getting there. Essentially it is like my movie reviews. They will get updated as long as I am bored for a significant period of time.
To my friends out there who read this shit and maintain their own site:
Don't take offence if I hate your site. You may still actually be a legitimate human.
I think this is all you guys need to hear about at the moment. I have to go and keep myself occupied for the next few hours and also kill the small invasion of ants that have decided to enter my house.
I cannot stress how much I hate ants. Actually, perhaps I can. I hate them to such an incredible degree it is comparible to the hate one might feel if their best friend murdered your entire family in cold blood for a laugh, or one percent of the hate I feel towards Ian Thorpe for being such a complete wanker. 4月21日 Leopold Is Nothing (but) CrapThursday night basketball is a proud tradition that has very little to do with me.
All my mates play and I think I filled in for the team when they played on Friday nights a couple of times and coached them (badly) to a couple of finals, but I actually had very little to do with the team apart from knowing everyone's names, being able to attend the games and posses a pair of eyes to watch the game. Pretty damn simple.
I don't particularly like basketball, but we all played it at lunch time at school and I live pretty damn close to where they play.
The location of the arena is bloody great in my opinion. Not exactly central Geelong, but not that far from both town and Belmont, so nearly everyone is close to it, with a few exceptions of course.
In the wonderful Thursday night league the organisers of the whole thing have sat there and obviously became spasticated.
They have a venue with three basketball courts and games that can start as late as 10:20 pm and they can't even convert a couple of the barely used netball courts into basketball courts so they have decided that every week a couple of teams have to play out in Leopold.
It's fucking retarded.
Leopold.
Miles and miles away. And it's in a school's gym so it's not exactly a top notch venue that's worth travelling the extra fifteen minutes. Why not rent out the courts at Joey's? They used to have several teams in the Friday night league. Sounds like a good idea and it's just on the other side of town really. It's only a five minute drive too, and that's not so bad considering it's either 50 or 60 km/h all the way there as opposed to the fifteen minutes of 90 km/h to get to Leopold.
Stupid wankers, it's such a pain in the arse to get there. Games at LINC are unofficially called interstate games.
The refs are still shit house out there too. I won't get started on the Life Be In It refs, the article would simply be too long.
The verdict: LINC is a shit hole and the Life Be In It organisers were obviously dropped at birth. |
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