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Sunday, March 28, 2010

ChatGames

This post originally appeared on my blog last Monday at TheCompleteFirstSeason.com. Please go over there and read some of the other funny things me and my friends have been writing about almost daily.

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The latest fad in social networking on the interwebs that all the kids and perverts are using appears to be a website called ChatRoulette. I’m not going to explain it to you. Okay, I’ll explain it to you. You go onto the website, webcam enabled, join in with the click of a button, you’re randomly assigned a stranger to chat with/share pictures of/display your genitals to.

I’m not kidding.

I tried it once for the purpose of this blog, first one up… BAM. Manstuff. Ugh. And that’s why it’s called ChatRoulette – because you spin the wheel and take the chance you’re not going to come up red from embarassment.

Anyways, as soon as one person gets bored with that stranger, they click “NEXT”, the virtual wheel spins again and another person is randomly chosen to chat with. An interesting thing if placed in the right hands. Except that it’s on the internet, meaning it’s never going to be in the right hands.

I thought ‘what new internet social networking fads can be drawn from other games?’. Then I thought ‘I wonder if we have any orange juice in the house?’. My mind drifted back to the first question. Here are some hypotheticals.

ChatRussianRoulette – Like ChatRoulette only the chances of seeing a nude man are guaranteed 1 in 6. Dangerous odds. Take your chances.

ChatChess – Video chat site only in black and white.

ChatGuessWho – Like ChatRoulette but with black screens – you never see the person. You have to guess what the other person looks like. Only accessible to users with either blue or brown eyes (facial hair optional).

ChatPoker – Video chat site where the aim is to have something brilliant to type in the chat window then try and guess whether the other person in the chat has something better to type. Long standoffs ensue. Some people wear sunglasses. Ben Affleck frequents the site.

ChatFarmville – Video chat site where you annoy friends of yours on Facebook who don’t give a crap about Farmville.

ChatBlackjack – Video chat site where nobody is over 21. You can chat with multiple people at a time, but once the combined ages of the people your chatting with reaches 21 or more, you’re booted off the site.

ChatMinesweeper – Video chat site where the chance of seeing a naked dude is 10 out of 81 (or 40 out of 256 on ‘intermediate’). Take your chances.

ChatSolitaire – Video chat site where it’s just you. Literally. Just you. Nobody else. There’s a deck of cards if you get bored.

ChatJenga – Video chat site where the longer the chat sessions go on, the more likely the site is to crash.

ChatTwister – Video chat site where you are randomly allocated a person in a colour group to talk to. As it goes on, you have to maintain conversations with four different people without allowing the whole thing to collapse. Where possible, attempt to graze against a platonic female friend. How? How is this possible online? You’ll find a way. It’s Twister.

ChatPopomaticTrouble - Video chat site where people play Pop-O-Matic Trouble on camera and show it to the losers who aren’t there to join in the awesomeness that is Pop-O-Matic Trouble. (It is an awesome game. High five? … yeah.)

ChatCockFighting – Video chat site with two guys showing their genitals to each other. Oh wait. That already exists. It’s called ‘a straight yet perverted guy’s nightmare on ChatRoulette’.

In case you were wondering, yes, we had orange juice.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Peach Party

A couple of weeks back I helped out Henry and Greg from Skills In Time for a sketch about peaches.

It was a pretty mad fun day. Here is the mad fun video that became of it. Watch, won't you?



That was peachy.



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I've been seeing a helluva lot more acts at the Brisbane Comedy Festival than I had previously anticipated. If you count Adam Hills and Hannah Gadsby who I saw at Chalkboard but didn't see their shows, I'll have seen 9 acts. If you don't count them, that's 7 which is still more than expected. I should really do a review of the ones I've seen - all but one are going onto Melbourne, some to Sydney.

I've been collecting my tickets in case I need a photo of the tickets to start a blog entry.

Also, I've collected a drop of blood from each of those acts, put them on the back of the ticket then filed it ala Dexter and his slides.

That's not true.

Friday, March 12, 2010

If I Wrote Glengarry Glen Ross

Alec Baldwin: We’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Wanna see second prize? A set of steak knives. … Third prize is YOU’RE FIRED. … Oh, have I got your attention now, you cocksuckin’ pieces of shit? Huh?

Jack Lemmon: … um, excuse me?

AB: What?

JL: Yeeeees, hi there. I was just wondering what’s fourth prize?

AB: Fourth prize is another set of steak knives.

JL: And fifth prize?

AB: More steak knives.

JL: Sixth prize?

AB: Sixth prize is YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: Oh-kay.

AB: That’s right, you bastard.

Alan Arkin: (muttering) Who’s this guy think he is?

JL: And seventh prize?

AB: Set of steak knives.

JL: Eighth prize?

AB: Eighth prize. Steak knives.

JL: Ninth?

AB: Ninth prize is YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: Ooooohkay. So the goal of this isn’t really to sell as much real estate possible but to just make sure we don’t end up with a placing that’s a multiple of three?

AB: You gotta problem with that, Shel?

JL: It seems kinda weak.

AB: Weak? YOU’RE WEAK. You don’t think you can handle it, you’re in the wrong line of business, pal. You wanna work here, close. And NOT in a multiple of three.

Alan Arkin: Who the hell is this guy?

AB: (refers to the blackboard on which ABC is written). A-B-C. A-always. B-be. ... and I'm not saying the third word. Coz the third word is FIRED.

JL: Just to satisfy my peace of mind though, what’s 17th place?

AB: Steak knives.

JL: 14th place?

AB: Steak knives.

JL: 27th place?

AB: YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: 41st?

AB: Steak knives.

JL: 92nd?

AB: Steak knives.

JL: 12th?

AB: YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: 113th?

AB: Steak knives.

JL: 63rd?

AB: YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: 30th?

AB: YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: 23rd?

AB: Gift certificate to Target.

JL: 15th?

AB: YOU’RE FIRED.

JL: This is ludicrous.

Ed Harris: It’s BULLSHIT, that’s what it is.

Alan Arkin: Why don’t we just sell steak knives?

Ed Harris: Goddammit.

Alan Arkin: People need steak knives more than real estate.

Ed Harris: God DAMN it.

JL: Sounds like we’ve got a lot to sell.

Ed Harris: GodDAMMIT this is abuse.

AB: You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can't take this, how can you take the abuse you get on a sit? (jingling key chain) You see these? These are brass balls. You need brass balls to sell real estate. Notice there are only two. Not three. Two. Brass balls don’t come in threes, gentlemen. You have until tomorrow. Good night.

(front door slams shut)

(pause)

(mens room door swings open)


Al Pacino: (yelling) WHATTHEHELLSGOINONINHERE?

Rampant Cornish Polygamy and Animal Abuse

This was previously published on The Complete First Season's blog found at The Complete First Website - http://www.thecompletefirstseason.com/

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As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives.

Not his, though.

He was just a minibus driver who’d broken down during a hens night.

The eight thirty-something women on the bus (seven of which sported wedding bands) were drunkenly fondling at least two thousand kittens they appeared to keep in a very limited number of hessian sacks.

I don’t normally make assumptions about people but it looked, frankly, disturbing.

I drove on, the decision to do so making me feel morally comfortable and satisfied.

Besides, my second family was waiting for me in St. Ives and they might have been getting suspicious.


Friday, March 5, 2010

The Tale Of The Inaccurate Leprechaun

This happened at work this week.

The customer entered the store wearing a leprechaun hat, but he was far from the size of a leprechaun. He did, however, have a head of red hair beneath the hat. He also wore glasses and had bad teeth.

He approached me and wished me a Happy St. Patrick's Day!
There was a pause as he waited for a return reply. It was not the one he expected.

"... um, it's not St. Patrick's Day. Isn't St. Patrick's Day in, like, two weeks?" I said.

"Oh" he returned with. "Well, it's always St. Patrick's Day somewhere."

Again, a pause.
... what??

"I don't think so" I said. "Maybe in some inter dimensional and parallel universe where time is not a constant."

He smiled. "Very good. Very good. Do you sell wool?"

Overlooking the bizarre and abrupt transition of conversational topic, I referred him to the manchester section where the wool and knitting tools lay awaiting purchase. He acknowledged my response then produced a scarf under construction, knitting needles still embedded, which he was making in the colours of green and white.

"I'm making a Doctor Who scarf!" he said enthusiastically.

Playing along, I said "Aaaaah." My knowledge of Doctor Who is minimal but I'm reasonably sure the Tom Baker incarnation/regeneration of the Doctor he was referring to wore a scarf of other colours than white and green.
He proceeded to tell me that he had found a website which allowed him to recreate the Doctor's scarf accurate to the number of stitches. My thought was 'that sounds impressive. If only you'd gotten the colours correct, you daft man."

Eventually he relented his conversational beartrap placed upon me and moved towards the direction of the section I had seemingly decades ago directed him to.

He stopped and turned. "Do you know what St. Patrick was famous for?"

A wild stab in the dark, recalling the Whacking Day episode of The Simpsons, all I could say was "ridding the snakes?"
The non-leprechaun with the knitting needles smiled and pointed at me. "Yes. That's right. The snakes."

I sighed with relief.

"Although it is a metaphor. I'll let you go with 'snakes'" he continued. "Right. Off to the section of manchester and the wool within."

I sighed a bigger sigh of relief.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I'd Have Watched The Olympics If They Had Lightcycles.

In the last month or so, I've been working with The Complete First Season guys on new material for our website - it's been redesigned so that it will be continually updated with new material.

One element of this will be The Complete First Blogs on which each of us will be posting something new nearly every day. I'll be contributing a new piece of writing every Monday. I'll also be republishing an excerpt of that new blog posting here several days afterwards, but it will always be published in full every Monday on The Complete First Blog.

The site is yet to go live, but when I do, I shall notify. You.

Since it's not live yet and I can't link it as such, I offer you my contribution for this week.

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I have barely watched any of the Winter Olympics from Vancouver. Come to think of it, I barely watch any sport generally, let alone the Olympics. I get enough Olympic action from the Michael Buble-smooth-croon-soaked ads Foxtel plays ad nauseum. So I've been basically oblivious. I’ve heard rumblings in the news of homophobia in Nine’s commentary which was kinda resolved and yet not. I heard we won a gold for snowboarding. Um, yeah. Cool.

But apart from that I’ve barely watched anything. Until Saturday night that is. Saturday night – the night when AC/DC was on in Brisbane, the Mardi Gras was on in Sydney and the immense distance between the audiences wasn’t exclusively geographical – I finally found myself watching Nine’s coverage of VANCOUVER GOLD.

‘Vancouver Gold’. Sounds like a midday movie title. A single father doctor from Washington state moves north of the border after the death of his wife, and finds a new love and life ra ra ra ra and the greatest fortune of all is love. Or family. Or… I don’t know. I have Foxtel so I don’t have to watch that crap during the day.

Oh. Foxtel.

Clearly Nine has to share the Australian broadcasting rights with Foxtel so on Saturday night, all they were screening was a highlights package of each of the recent events. Somehow I found myself crashed on a couch taking it all in. They showed the jumping, they showed the bobsledding on the dangerous track in which five or so teams in a row crashed. The Germans handled turn no. 12 with the precision and efficiency you’d expect from the Germans. Before the Canadians beat them. And the Americans beat the Canadians. But I'm sure the Germans beat the Americans at something else, thus the bizarre game of Olympic rock-paper-scissors continued. The Slovenians never stood a chance.

Then they showed the speed skating.

Tatiana Someone was a name I heard mentioned but didn’t particularly pay attention to - as indicated by my lack of ability to remember her name. Look, in my experience, any Australian Olympian named Tatiana is Australia’s darling. She’s blonde. She's young. She has a European name. There’ll be a Muesli Bar ad contract waiting for you when you get home, sweetheart.

Anyway, the highlight package sped along until Tatiana appeared… in the strangest design of a Lycra speed skating suit I have ever seen. … admittedly, I hadn’t seen many prior to that night, but that doesn’t make me a liar. Whereas the other countries were plain silver or red or blue, the Aussie one had this odd skeletal/muscular pattern.

Tatiana. Photo by Jamie Squire/Getty Images.

Photo: Jamie Squire/Getty Images - linked from here.

It reminded me of Nigel Tufnel’s green skeleton shirt.

Maybe it was a psychological tactic to make them think they were lighter than they were, but my first reaction was ‘hmmm... it has been some years since I watched Tron.’ Tatiana Muesli-Bar-Contract didn’t make it through to the medals but at the point when she knew she wasn’t going to make it, I kinda wanted to see her pull out an identity disc and dispatch some users...



... they are called speedskatingsuits, right? SSS?

Oh. Suits.

Right! But then.

I thought how weird it was seeing shot after shot of all of these athletes in skintight, bodyhugging suits designed to be aerodynamic, in gloves, helments and reflective sunglasses, when out in the middle of the track are three Olympic officials in suits, ties and ice skates.

Just casually gliding about. Businessman on ice skates. Brilliant.

They were making the wearing of ice skates seem totally normal. Normal looking men from the ankle up, but then…

I would love to see someone, anyone – a high powered businessperson, a judge, a lowly office temp - wear ice skates to work on Casual Friday. I can’t see why it wouldn’t fit the criteria. It’s closed footwear, so it’s safe. Well, safe for the wearer’s feet anyway.

So, I’m going back into hibernation while the Olympics are on. Poke me awake with a stick when Curb Your Enthusiasm comes back.

Jimmy

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In other news, on this day in 1975, colour television started broadcasting in Australia. Also, on this day in 1989, someone somewhere was probably watching this classic scene from Tron on VHS.