A Selection

Ah yes, it’s that time where I magically tranform my notebook full of maniacal scribblings into a page of witty prose. Here’s a selection of interesting stuff that’s happened to me in the couple of months.

Poster art

I went to an exhibit of rock poster art. It’s really frustrating looking at a cool poster that’s advertising a really good band line-up. Like, there was one designed by Gary Houston for a Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and Sleater-Kinney concert. Yes, please! And the Chris Shaw designed poster for a triple billing of Sonic Youth, Bikini Kill and The Amps. Drool. You can’t dance to a poster.

Punk arse fashion

Waiting for a train, I spied a young punk arse wearing a t-shirt with “JESUS IS A CUNT” printed in really big letters on the back. No one around seemed particularly shocked or offended by him wearing it. I guess all the Christians were probably happy in the knowledge that he would suffer an enternity of firey torture in hell, and all the non-Christians had little to be offended about, anyway. Instead he just seemed like a dickhead who might as well have been wearing a t-shirt that said, “LOOK AT ME! I SUCK!”

Big Brother doesn’t care

I was getting a Victorian driver’s licence (that’s a driver’s licence issued by the state of Victoria, not a driver’s licence from the late 19th century. Oh, as if anyone thought that.) and the guy who was serving me made a comment that he was pleased that I had brought all the neccessary ID and documents required. He said that some people just show up with no ID or anything and say to him, “oh, can’t you just look that up?” It’s like they think that he has this super computer system that allows him to pull up details on any driver’s license from any country in the world. There are even people who expect that he can access their bank details, or passport information. Big Brother might be watching, but he isn’t watching that hard.

Security guard

There was a guy with a jacket and he was scribbling over part of it with a black market pen. His friend asked him what he was doing. He explained that he’d bought the jacket at a second hand shop. It was a nice thick warm jacket, but had a label with “SECURITY GUARD” sewn on the front. He’d thought it would be pretty cool to wear around, but he discovered that when he went out people actually thought he was a security guard, and he’d get strange looks, and a few times people actually asking for his help. So in the end he figured the best thing to do was black out the label and just be a normal guy.

Shop girl

I was in Ikea and there was a girl nearby holding a bunch of coathangers that she was going to buy. An old lady walked up to her and asked, “excuse me. I think I’ve seen this one with a lighter coloured wood. Could you tell me if you have that available?” The girl furrowed her brow in confusion for a few seconds then realised what’d happened. “Oh, I don’t work here. You should ask someone who does.” The lady asked her who worked there. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever been here. I’m from Adelaide.”

Under-age cage

At the Melbourne Zoo there’s an old cage that’s been kept as a reminder of how animals used to be kept in zoos. A sign at its entrance says, “A red brick structure built in 1927, it reminds us of how animals were housed, displayed and viewed in the 19th century.” Is this an attempt at revisionist history, or did the sign writer think that the 1900s were the 19th century?

Where’s the bikkies?

I was on a ferry and there was a really fat lady wearing a couple of hot air balloons that had been turned into trousers. She waddled over to her friends sitting across the aisle and said to them, “Where’s the bikkies! Where’s the bikkies!” And her friend chucks her a half-full bag of those shitty peanut brownie biscuits, the kind they always had on school camps. The ones that always taste salty and never chocolately. Biscuits for people who hate food. Anyway, Karen, for that is the name of the fat lady, starts chucking biscuits out the window at some ducks. One of her slightly less fat friends sighs, “Oh Karen, we thought you were going to eat them!”


Some graffiti I saw read “ANTI-CAPTIALIST” and then the anarchy symbol. I was thinking that if you were a really hardcore anti-capitalist, you could write in all lower-case. But that would mean that instead of the anarchy symbol being a capital A in a circle, it would instead be a lower case a in a circle, which would look like this: @.

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