Movies Review

Everything has to be in 3D now. Is that because our lives have become 2D?

Well, I’ll tell you what I don’t want to see in 3D, cinema carpet. RSLs, casinos and cinemas must all purchase their carpet from some exclusive carpet dealership that never left the 80s. It’s like unnecessary magic eye on the ground. Find the juggling elephant. I don’t see it.

The carpet has retained that familiar popcorn stench, accumulated over the years. Who decided that popcorn was food? I often used to wonder who discovered that you could eat eggs, but eggs are things that exist naturally. How lame would it be if I wrote, ‘eggsist naturally’. Ok, the damage is done now.

Anyway, someone invented popcorn. They did not discover it in the wilderness. They invented it, and deemed it food. And people went along with it. No one stood up and protested against popcorn. I assume the inventor was aiming to create something with ridiculous texture and zero flavour. Well done. Really, what must our livers think?

Here comes that polystyrene gravel again.

We need to eat popcorn by the shipping container, ramming overflowing handfuls into our faces. Is there no other way to eat it? Chopsticks? Once every crevasse between your teeth has been filled with yellow flecks, dehydration kicks in. Yes, it is a sense of eternal pastiness. What better way to counteract that than with an enormous cylinder of pretend coke. Well, any liquid would be fine, really. Why not drink a litre of unleaded.

If popcorn does not take your fancy you can always try any of the other overpriced trinkets of “food” wrapped in the ridiculously loud plastic packaging. The persistent crinkling has become part of the movie sound track. In fact, I think I would rather eat the plastic packaging than a choc-top. Surely, they’re made of the same stuff.

Next time I go to the movies I plan to eat from an esky filled with crabs and lobsters. Then I am going to crack walnuts and chomp loudly on celery sticks.

If you are on time for a movie, you probably shouldn’t have been. You have just paid $14 to watch 20 minutes of giant ads. Even the ads have their own ads. Before the movie even begins I think, ‘Thank goodness. I had no idea there were 17 Indian restaurants in this precinct.’

And then there are the previews, which are just ads for movies. When the movie actually starts I am not sure if it is another ad until about halfway through the film.

The problem with seeing a movie is actually the fact that you have to re-enter the real world afterwards. As spectacular viewing as credits make, people must leave the cinema at the end. It’s like watching bats emerge from a cave into the light. And we return to our 2D lives.

Jim

Miss Toilet USA

Why do toilets in motels have sashes around them when you check-in? Well, they've just been in the American toilet pageant.

There she is, Miss American Toilet
There she is, your ideal.
The dreams of a million toilets
Who are more than pretty
May come true in Atlantic Shitty
Oh she may turn out to be
The queen of dysentery
There she is, Miss American Toilet
There she is, your ideal
With so much excrement
She'll take the town by storm
With her all-American faeces and form
And there she is
Struggling for air she is
Fairest of the fair she is
Miss American Toilet

SCAT TALKING

No



I'm down here.

I find it strange that people can say nonsensical syllables in a song but not in a conversation. Why is it acceptable to sing, 'Scooby do wop wop bwee dah' or 'Sha la la la la la la' or 'a do run run run', but not to speak these words? Ok, yeah, it's not acceptable to sing, 'a do run run run'. Barbara-Anne has alot to answer for. Like, who is called Barbara-Anne anyway?
I lose interest in a lot of conversations and for some reason silence is considered to be rude. Some of my best shared moments with people are silent. Silence is Golden, but rude. So since I find talking to people to be boring and frequently superficial I've decided to improvise with some scat talking. For example when people talk about the weather, "Isn't it hot today?"
And instead of saying, "I know, I'm not a reptile, this topic warrants no discussion what-so-ever." I say, "Shoo be doo wop cha wop", and saunter off.
My most unfavourite question is, "What have you been up to?" And since people have stopped believing me when I say that I've been huntng wabbits, I've decided to say, "Ging gang goolie goolie goolie". I might win the next election with such banter.

So Many Worlds of Scum

Dreamworld, so many world's in one. One of those world's is the very fantastical world of 'Gluttonous Bogans'. They are human ibises, chomping at the bit and bustling around. Unfortunately, they are much louder than ibises, not saying anything in particular but yelling it so everyone can hear. They sure do suck. Another world is 'Pram world'. Why do prams look like four wheel drives these days? I think all I had in the 80s was a bread board on wheels. Although I have to say that my personal favourite has to be 'Tourists Loudly Abusing Koalas So They Can Get A Photo World.' If someone tried to get you to pose for a photo by yelling and violently banging things, how would you respond? I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a snap for the next shampoo ad. Luckily the koala was too smashed to give a shit, and he went back to sleep. I wish that every time someone demanded something from me I could just go sleep.
Tiger Island is not really even an island, it is an enclosure. I guess 'Tiger Enclosure' is not very marketable. The female tiger did not come out to perform today because she was on heat. Imagine if I could call in sick to work with that excuse. Ok, I don't work. But I think I should get a job just so I can try it.
"You've got the job, can you start tomorrow?"
"Oh, tomorrow? Actually guys, I'm on heat, so I can't start for a few weeks. And hey, then when I do I'll be fillin' out my maternity leave."

The Ekka: 10 Days of Pointless Activity

Come on down to Brisbane's annual festival of viruses. The excellent value 
of $22 will enable you to enjoy the sights of cow manure, the back of someone else's head for 5 hours, and trails of spit and gum directly under an overrated chairlift, just to name a few.
This year we have an even larger range of showbags. After all, what do kids 
love more than insignificant, low quality plastic toys and trinkets of food that are made out of the same low quality plastic?

Some of the popular showbags which will be sold in the large ugly shed which we call a "pavillion" are;
-'The World's Biggest Showbag' ($15) - This is just big because of the 
deceiving size of the bag. It contains a 1cm X 1cm cube of drift wood. -''The toys kids will never use again showbag' ($12) - This includes a 
plastic plane without wings, an inflatable giraffe hoof, a mask without holes for the eyes and mouth, and an army figurine which was discarded in the early 80s.
-'The Gag Magic Bag' ($9.50) - This bag is filled with practical jokes and
tricks that encourage violence among children: a whoopee cushion that 
actually explodes, a real persons' finger, some vomit which was collected 
under the ferris wheel, kool mints which are really moth balls, a plastic camera that squirts sulfuric acid, and some plastic 'dracula' teeth which 
cause gum infection.
-'The Virus Showbag' ($7) - This bag contains every virus available at
the Ekka so you can keep up with the latest trends in sore throats, colds, 
coughs, and lethal flu. It even has a bonus toy nose that can be wound up
to run.

Another Ekka specialty is the food, where there is no other sort like it. The pluto pups, hot dogs, hamburgers, sausage rolls, pies, and chips have all been reheated as left-overs from last year and the year before in order 
to maintain that true Ekka taste and bonus bacteria, which we guarantee will 
assist the development of your Ekka virus. And if you are wondering what 
gives our pluto pups that distinct flavour, why don't you head in to see the 
dogs we have on show.

The reason our Ekka food tastes so great is because we know that it needs to taste even better on its way back up after going on the overrated rides.
As if you hadn't already spent enough money, we also charge you for the rush you get from going on our unstable rides which were last approved in 1982. We charge you for this so we can afford to pay you money back if you decide to sue us for long term ride related injuries. 

Don't forget to check out side-show alley. Throwing something at a bottle 
has never been so much fun, especially since there is a chance that you 
could win a really ugly stuffed toy. The Side-show Alley toys really are stuffed. That is because they have been taken from the crappy toy collections of doctors' surgeries in lower class suburbs of the 70s. If you 
ever win you will receive a faded toy with one eye, patches of lice infested 
fur, and tiny white balls falling out of a split seam.

While you're at the Ekka do not miss the farm animals. They have been drugged in unnatural surroundings on uncomfortable hay especially for your 
viewing. It is always incredibly entertaining to watch a goat barely moving 
its tail, a chicken sitting, and a sheep breathing. The midday cattle parade is also a must. Cows walking around in a circle brings an excited crowd to its feet every day. It's a pity that such talented cows are slaughtered in the next week so they can become Ekka food in storage for the year 2017.

So come on down to the Ekka this year. It's contagious in more ways than 
one. You can see what the ten days of pointless activity are all about. 
You'll find there is so much to do and waste you're money on. There are many drains around the gutters outside so you can throw your money down one if you'd rather do that than come. The Ekka's traditional atmosphere is
great. It's just like going to a large and over-crowded garage sale which sells its unwanted products for double what they are worth, and is filled with the fragrance of animal dung. Who could ask for anything more?

Taking Tips from a Blue-Footed Booby

I watched a show about animals mating. When was it that humans stopped mating and started having sex? People don't meet up with friends the next day and say, "You'll never guess who I mated last night?" There is no book called, 'The joy of mating'. Salt n Pepa did not sing a song called, 'Let's talk about mating'. Let me ask, though, if you've ever seen grasshoppers making love? I think I did once, and they lit a huge joint afterwards.

Each species is different and has its own ritual. The human ritual is boring, but for some reason seems to be the most complex. There should really just be 3 straight foward questions. 1. Do you want to have sex? 2. Are you drunk enough to have sex? The 3rd is more of a statement than a question. 3. Yes, you have had enough GHB to have sex. And yet, it all seems so difficult to me. Why must we find out if we have things in common when the common thing is really just that we are humans who can reproduce. Actually, some people who reproduce are very common.

Anyway, I might try the approach of the blue foot boobie next time I'm out and about. I will offer my prospective partner some lovely twigs and pebbles, lift my feet up to the sky and flail my arms about madly. Let's see if this works. At this stage I feel that the only person I will attract will be one in a security uniform, but that will do. I wonder if we'll have anything in common.....probably not.

Long Haul Flying

A long haul flight is a lot like being in a womb; sleeping, eating and excreting in confined spaces. I’m just speaking for myself as an economy fetus of the world. My legs are too long for economy class. Economy was originally designed for snakes and lizards to be transported across the globe, then when they couldn’t afford to fly, humans took their tiny seats. You need to slither in and out of them. Economy would be fine for me if I had paper legs and I could just neatly fold them up into springy origami. But I don’t. It’s like trying to relax in a panadol capsule. 

In theory, flying should be a very relaxed thing. You just sit down for awhile. But for some reason it is a gigantic ordeal. I try to imagine myself on the First Fleet, months of vomit and scurvy. A long haul flight can’t be too bad compared to that. But why are we so tired at the end after doing nothing. How do birds feel after they have migrated across half of the world? I assume they are much more tired and yet they just get on with it. 

Airports are cattle stations for people. We all line up and get stamped as we go through the gates, before being herded up and transported away. Catching a commercial plane has so many ups and downs. Checking in isn’t too bad, you are acknowledged as human for this part. It’s all downhill from there; ‘show your passport, where’s your boarding pass’. Felt up and down. Detectors, detectors, no shoes, jackets, belts, liquids or personalities allowed. Everyone is a suspect, an impersonator of themselves until they get through. You’re guilty till proven innocent. When you finally make it through the interrogation to your seat on the plane, you are treated human again. 

‘Thank you for flying with us. Sit back and relax. Have an enjoyable flight. We will do all we can to make you feel comfortable blah blah.’ How much can you ‘enjoy’ a flight? I’ve never met anyone who has told me so. It’s not exactly a night on the town. Let’s see, sitting in confined bumpy space for 12.5 hours, ingesting remnants of processed food. Enjoyable, come on, everyone, join in! Let’s all sit in a crab pot and eat Kraft Singles for a week. 

I think plane food is made in toy factories. It’s more fun to play with it than eat it. I would be better off trying to digest photographs of plane food than trying to eat it. It’s so cleverly disguised as food, but it is actually old car tyres. Once I was on a flight where an option was seafood lasagne. That should never be an option at 14,000 feet or at any feet. My response to that option is gin and tonic X 4. Last time I flew, the breakfast was a stale bread roll filled with weevil looking spaghetti and corn. I wouldn’t feed that to the pets of my pets. Like, if my dog had a mutant grub pet. My sister actually quite enjoys the plane food, not because it’s tastes good but because there are so many different containers to open. Each one is a surprise, ‘Ooh, what’s in here? Gross. What about this container? Gross. Next? Gross.’ Can you imagine paying $1000 to go to an uncomfortable restaurant to buy 5 tiny, average meals, then just eating them because you’re bored and you want a break from tetris because you have RSI. You’ve already watched the 5 movies which did so poorly at the cinema so they had to sell them to airlines to make any money back. The scripts are terrible but that doesn’t really matter because even though you’ve got headphones on, all you can hear is engine noise. But you’ve got your ipod, so at least you can listen to MORE ENGINE NOISE. So what else are you going to do, of course you’re going to eat the plane food, or at least play with it.

You’re never going to look cool on a long haul flight, unless you want to be as comfortable as an expired string ham. The best option is to go for some loose fitting pants. So you either want to look like a pear or a bean bag, something really unappealing. Think Grimace from the McDonalds ads in the 80s. I’m sure he’ll be on The Biggest Loser soon. Last time I was l a little too comfortable, you know, like a step away from incontinents pads comfortable. I wouldn’t have had to move anywhere for the entire flight. Hello deep vein thrombosis. 

Ah, what is flying without that extra little waft of paranoia in the air. Can you smell it? No, most people couldn’t because this time it was swine flu. I felt left out without my mask on so I cut my bra in half and used one cup to cover my face. Actually, that’s a lie. My boobs are so big that one cup would have been way too big to cover just my face. I sat next to a Japanese lady, and pretended I was in my own version of ‘Lost in Translation’. She actually spoke English quite well so it wasn’t really like ‘Lost in Translation’. It was like....just talking to someone. She didn’t believe that I was Australian so I told her I was Samoan and we settled on that. The only Japanese I knew was ‘joogi o kudasai?’ That means, ‘Can I please have a ruler?’ I decided not to use that one on her. I didn’t need a ruler. Interestingly enough, that is one thing that has not been banned on planes. I find it odd that you cannot take over 100ml of liquid aboard, yet we have more than that amount of liquid in us already so that is not really effective. Mistake! 

There is a brief moment that pops up when I don’t mind flying so much, apart from the landing. It’s the bit when I peer out the window at the vast blue, sky and water. Then there are occasional green lumpy bits. I realise myself looking at it then I remember that I am a part of it, just a spec though. And then I look back at the screen inside the plane. Yes, a virtual map with a giant cartoon plane nuzzling forward. Which one is correct, the view outside the window, or the cartoon map? Which one am I in? 

RETAIL-ITATION

It is called Retail Therapy. I do not know why. I find it rather traumatic. It is odd to think that I'd prefer hunting for my clothes. I would rather skin an animal and wrap it around myself than be propositioned by a socially nervous, fashionable stick figure with no sense of self. If I act completely retarded, as though I've never seen an item of clothing before, it seems to work well.

So, I am asked by sales girl number 1 how I am going today, in an artificial, patronising way. Perfect. Should I make up a story about a urinary tract infection to tell her? No, what does she want from me? Um, ok, avoid eye contact and she'll go away.

"Do you need any help with anything or are you just looking?"

What could I possibly need help with?

"Um, yeah, can you carry me around the shop, I'm tired of standing." Sheesh...

She goes back to pretending to rearrange clothes by moving coat hangers forwards and backwards on a rack. Hmm, every time I go to my room I do the same thing. It's so fulfilling swishing my clothes forwards and backwards in my cupboard. I know it's the method she uses to approach me, though. I am the hunter being the hunted.

On the rare occasion that I may find a garment which exceeds generic or ugly, I need to use a change room to try it on. This makes me very vulnerable sales prey. A tiny cubicle with unflattering mirrors, way to get a sale. I feel like I'm trying something on in front of the 'fat' mirrors at the Science Centre. I've never heard anyone ask for clothes that make them look wider.

"Yeah, you got anything that makes me look like a big old round circle?"

So, after it takes me 5 minutes to negotiate the garment off the coat hanger, I can hear the sales assistant lurking outside the door, sniffing around like a starved warthog. I retreat to the corner of the cubicle.

Routine question number 1: "How's it going in there, everything Ok?"

Like, after 3 decades I still don't know how to dress myself. If I emerged wearing a cardigan as pants, what would she do? I'm playing Twister with the clothes. Right foot, left armhole. 

Routine question number 2: "Are you all right for sizes"

Well, I was hoping for a skivvy that would fit a giraffe but this human size one will do. Ps, I'm aware that skivvies are not in fashion at present times.

Tip: Never step outside the cubicle in the new garment. You are relinquishing any remaining control you may have. As soon as you do, enter sales assistant with saliva dripping from the mouth. They will always tell you how good you look, even if you are wearing a scarf as a tail. It is very insincere but they will tell you, and remember, you are vulnerable prey. It is at this point when I choose to empower myself and change my tactics. I select most of the clothes in the store and take them up to the counter. After everything has been rung up, I insist only on purchasing the coat hangers. You can do this too. It is most effective if you then count out each coat hanger like The Count from Sesame Street.

"That's 13, 13 glorious coat hangers! Ha ah ah!"

Perhaps, go to the butchers.....