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Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Fat Rambling

A Brief Note For Those Who Came In Late
by Fatman

Boredom has and always will be my constant companion. I started the 'Fat-a-grams' not because I thought I had anything worth saying, but because when anything did eventually happen, I had to tell the same story over and over again. And, just like a comedian who is tired of his own jokes, with each telling I would omit details, change others and even forget how they would end creating a room of silent embarrassment, save for a muffled cough or two.

There now exists a bit more of a formal archive of my non-adventures at www.fatramblings.blogspot.com. thanks to a Mr.Rupert Sherwood who thought it best to unleash my banality to the world. He even kept the titles, some of which I was extremely proud of. Many, many others I wish I could drive a DeLorean in to the past and change (Like the e-mail I sent where there's a warning label on a chainsaw telling buyers not to stop the blades with their scrotum. I always wished I'd called that one 'Testis Chainsaw Massacre'. But I digress...)

I'd always hoped that someone else occupied my brain, a better writer. I feel like I've been ill-equipped, mentally and physically, to chronically my stupidity. I'm not suited to the job: like a hostage negotiator with Tourette's Syndrome, and you guys are the people in the bank vault staring into balaclava'd men with sub-machine guns, not knowing how the day will turn out, praying for me to shut the f-ck up.

Nevertheless, what's done is done. Check out the site if you're having a slow day. Recommend it to people who may be feeling miserable. Their wives left them, their job sucks, nothing seems to be going right. Call them from the window ledge they are thinking of jumping off and show them some stories so they can see that their life ain't as idiotic as mine. Hopefully it may even make them smile.

Fatman

Monday, August 16, 2004

Winter of Discontent

Part One- House of Heaves

We had our house inspection today. It was actually less eventful than I'd imagined it. See, in my mind it went like this...

Scene- Due to the time of the year, the lack of a visible sun, clouds, tilt of the Earth's axis, the hemisphere where we live, groundhogs forever seeing their own shadows,etc. it is winter, cold and grey. In the suburb of North Melbourne we approach Melrose street where only last week police recovered a kidnapped baby some fifty meters away(true story). We close in on number 38 and take it from the P.O.V. of the house inspector, a young woman in her early twenties.

Real Estate Woman: (looks at inspection notes in her clipboard that says;38 Melrose street. She looks up to see a decrepid and run down house. The numeral '8' is missing, weeds have overrun a family of decapitated garden gnomes and there is a small fire in the letterbox. She lets out a deep breath and knocks on the door)

(From Inside the House):F-ck off. We don't want any!

Real Estate Woman:...er..I'm here for the room inspection. We've tried contacting you for some time now and sent you several letters in the mail. To which you guys replied by posting a photograph of someone's...er...anus.

(The door opens to reveal a hideous figure with bloodshot eyes. He is naked save for an over-sized sombrero): That was mine. You c'n tell by the tattoo. See?(swivels to show butt. Whilst the horrified REAL ESTATE WOMAN ponders best how to reply several biker-types shove past NAKED SOMBRERO GUY)

Real Estate Woman: Do...Do you boys often have....friends visiting?

Naked Sombrero Guy (Let's face it, it's probably me. Or Micah- if he ever turned up to the stupid inspection): Huh? Friends? Nah, never even remember meeting those guys. Come in, Y'wanna beer?

But, reality went nothing like that. The real estate woman came over for about five minutes total, then left complimenting me on my sombrero.

( Intermission: John Harvey Kellogg, inventor of cornflakes, made his cereal at the Battle Creek Sanitarium in an attempt to curb people from masturbating. It doesn't work.)

Part Two- Rahu?

I have been getting pretty weird text messages since Thursday. The first sms was- HE IS HERE, HE WALKS AMONG US. Which was strange, but no stranger than most things texted my way. I didn't put too much thought to it as I had just started work that night. I didn't know the number so it could've been from or for anyone. An hour later I get- THERE WILL BE GNASHING OF TEETH AND TEARING OF HAIR AND MUCH PERSONAL TRAINING. Following will be a transcript between myself and my new invisible foe (or an old sinister one who has changed mobile phones and instead of just telling me he's changed numbers is playing sick games with my mind) for your viewing pleasure. Those of you who are frightened by horror movies and loud noises are advised to turn your computer off.Also, it's pretty long, which'll bore the pants off most people.

Thursday night (cont'd). Please note that while I have kept every message sent to me thus far by "Rahu" my replies have not been stored in the Nokias memory banks. Also, some messages just end because of the 160-letter limit imposed on mobile phones.

My reply- IS THAT YOU JESUS? JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT NAILED TO A TREE DOESN'T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO COMPLAIN ABOUT MY HAIRCUT AND TUBBY GUT.

'Rahu?'-RAHU GOD OF DARKNESS IS ANGERED. FOOL. BRINGER OF DARK ECONOMIC DOWNTURN, SCRABBLE.. YR ASS IS MINE.

My reply- WELL, THAT'S THE LAST TIME I GIVE MY NUMBER TO A DARK GOD. IF I HAD A DIME FOR EVERY TIME I WAS AT THE ARSE END OF A SMITING, I WOULD BE A RICH MAN.

Friday (Morning, well, about 11:30)

'Rahu?'-PEOPLE OFTEN ASK RAHU, HOW MIGHT I KNOW MY DARK LORD, THE BETTER TO PLEASE HIM? RAHU ANSWERS, IT IS ENOUGH THAT HE KNOWS YOU, ALTHOUGH LIBATIONS OF BEER ARE WELL RECEIVED.

My Reply- LITTLE WONDER HIS CULT STARTED IN A DRUNK TANK. THEY SAY THAT IN A.A. THE HIDDEN STEP, THE THIRTEENTH IS, RENOUNCE RAHU DAMMIT!

'Rahu?'-RAHU DOES NOT NEED LIPPY RESPONSES FROM WORMS. FEAR AND COWER PLEASE.

My Reply- SUCK PYGMY BLOOD. IT'S MY 25c AND I'LL REPLY HOWEVER THE HELL I PLEASE.

'Rahu?'-RAHU SHOWS PLEASURE...YR BACK CHAT...HIS TERRIBLE HUNGER ABATED...FOR NOW. MORTAL PLUCK. SO IRONIC.

Saturday night.

'Rahu?'-FAQ#1: WHY DOES RAHU TXT? A.RAHU IS TXT, TXT IS RAHU. RAHU MAY ALSO INVEST HEAVILY IN TELCOS. RAHU MAY ALSO BE BORED. HIS TERRIBLE, ETC.

My Reply: RAHU INVESTS HEAVILY IN TACOS? MEXICANS ARE COOL.

'Rahu?'- RAHU REGRETS HE IS CURRENTLY BABY SITTING AND UNABLE TO FIELD METAPHYSICAL QUESTIONS. PLEASE REFER TO LESSER BEINGS.

My Reply-NIETZCHE (SP?) ONCE PULLED OUT OF THE DRIVEWAY TOO QUICKLY AND RAN OVER HIS NEIGHBOURS POOCH.'THE DOG IS DEAD' HE SAID, BUT WAS MISINTERPRETED.

'Rahu?'-RAHU SENSES HIS SINGLE MINDED SLAVE'S ATTEMPT TO PLEASE BUT IS DISTRACTED BY THE CORRECT DOSAGE OF KID'S PANADOL AND THE RULES OF DOMINOS.

My Reply-HANG ON? YOU'RE REALLY BABY SITTING? ON A SATURDAY? THAT'LL HELP IN TRYING TO IDENTIFY 'RAHU' AND TO PUT AN END TO HIS EVIL ONCE AND FOR ALL.

'Rahu?'- RAHU RESENTS THAT. HE EXPERIENCES UNCOMFORTABLE FEELINGS. HE REMINDS YOU ABOUT HIS TERRIBLE HUNGER, GAPING MAW, DARK LAUGHTER, ETC.

The messages continue to this day. Who is he?

Buddy Love's love buddy,

Fatman