You're Doing It Wrong.

What makes one happy?

If you think you know the answer, you are wrong.

There is nothing so finite, so concrete that it applies to all.

To many, at least from my findings, is that happiness and normality lies within a picket fenced quarter acre block with 2.3 kids, a mortgage and 2 cars in the driveway. Who applied this as the way things should be?

Being a child of the late '80s and early '90s, divorce was rife amongst most of my friends, to the point I could never address any of my friends' parents by name in case they'd just come back from the courthouse and had a brand new one.

Now we're "all grown up" and a lot of my friends are getting married, having kids or have already done both. This scares the shit out of me while also at the same time grounds me, that's what they want, apparently, if they didn't they wouldn't be where they are. Or are they?

Are they implementing this idea of normality feeling they NEED to or are they truly attuned to what they need and doing as they wish, not as they feel they should?

There was a time where I thought I also had this need, this want. I dipped my toes into the water and soon found it was not for me, not as this point at least. Then all of a sudden I'm the bad person for not wanting "normality", for choosing to withhold on what is allegedly essential to my progression as a human being.

So for the time being I am doing what makes me happy. I've made a good dig at what I do, I have good friends, a good, healthy life (maybe with one or two vices, but hey) and am generally satisfied with what I accomplish.

For now, this is my normality, my happiness. Makes me feel right so I'll keep at it.

We Don't Need No Conversation.

Mike: You look uncomfortable.
Me: *nods*
Mike: Why?
Me: Happens.


Guy at Party: So where are you from?
Me: Canberra.
Guy: No, I mean, what group are from?
Me: I, uh, group? *points at Emma-Jean and Mike* Them...?
Emma-Jean: He goes to Chrome.
Me: Ohhhhhh! Yeah, sometimes.


Polling guy: Name?
Me: Perrie.
Polling guy: Ok.
Me: That's P E double R I E.
Guy: Got ya.
Me: Might make it a bit easier, heh.
Guy: Indeed. First name?
Me: Robert. *points* That's me.
Guy: Have you voted before--
Me: YES!
Guy: --In this election?
Me: Oh, no, haha, like I said, I have voted before, just not in this election, though I have voted before. I know what I'm doing here.
Guy: Quite. Next!


Co-worker: Hey, Rob, you busy?
Me: Not really.
Co-worker: Ok, could you--
Me: UGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!
Co-worker: I'll ask someone else.

What's YOUR Problem?

About a year ago my father told me a story.

29 years ago, give or take, my mother was pregnant. With me, obviously. There was some... Thing, I don't know specifically what but both her and I were in trouble. She was induced in an attempt to prevent death or something (details are sketchy at best) and I entered the world with the umbilical cord around my throat. Tight.

I was put into one of those plastic boxes with the holes in so the doctors can poke the baby to make sure it's still alive for like, 3 days or something. Was touch and go for a bit. Doctors said that if I survived I'd have brain damage.

So here we are.

Years of head injuries and alcohol and drug abuse haven't exactly helped my case.

A few months ago I started imparting this knowledge upon people one on one, as some sort of quite literally retarded 12 step program but in my haste I missed a lot of people in the process. So now you know.

I have trouble concentrating, learning things (hence my problems with education) and basic social interaction.

A while back I told my good friend Kate about this and she suggested getting tested, scanned or whatever to find out exactly what is wrong. This scared the shit out of me. Ignorance is bliss, people.


What I'm trying to get at is this is why I'm kinda odd sometimes. I don't want pity, just understanding. I want you to know that this is why I am, finding out why does not change who I am, I've always been me, I'll always be Robert.

That's the truth.

Thank you.

You Have 140 Characters To Comply

As I'm looking back at the halfway point of what is now going to be 48 hours without my phone I realise that I miss the shit out of Twitter. Not having my phone means I can't bore you during the day while I'm at work.

So for those of you that are ape-shit retarded for the stuff I have to say, here are some thoughts that occurred to me today that if I were able to, I would have tweeted:

-Robocop 2; I know we've had our fair share of forgettable sequels but whose pissed aunty thought this was a good idea?

-Even though I've been getting it near 15 years now, whenever someone has called me Bob recently I want to respond with "My name is Robert."

-Simon's missus is apparently having some trouble with the latest bun in the oven. Will people ever learn? Answer is no.

-I miss my phone. A lot.


That'll do.

Dastardly Plan Weekly Recap for July 3rd

It's ok, some of my best friends know immigrants.

You see an ad for a Chinese restaurant featuring an Asian family eating spring rolls, wontons, rice, etc, no one raises an eye brow, however when an ad for a fried chicken restaurant features black people eating what's on offer it's RACIST AND HORRIBLE AND EVERYONE SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES!

If this is what advertisers are after, and I can only assume so from reactions to them, maybe I can help them out:

INT- Fried chicken restaurant.

A clean, well kept restaurant, at the tables are a caucasian family, a Vietnamese family, an Italian family, all enjoying their fried chicken.

Over this scene, there is an all of sudden gun-shot, followed closely by the sound of broken glass.

Cut to- A black man holding a shot gun in front of a broken front door.

Black man: Alright, you honkey gook dago assholes! I want some fucken CHICKENNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! Or I'ma pop a cap!





Yeah, this is why I don't get paid for my writing.

Mundane can stay where it belongs.

People say "I had such a weird dream last night!" far too often. The vast majority of dreams I have myself and those that others share with me would be considered weird if they actually happened, but in the realm of the subconscious, it's par for the course.

I recently had a dream that I was running away from church conspirators in San Fransisco, something I don't really do in my day to day life, but not too much of a stretch for Bob's dream land.

If I were to have a dream about paying bills or driving to work I would consider that a weird dream. Weirdness in dreams is inversely proportional to that in the real world.


That'll do.

The Lonely Ballad (AKA- I want pussy)

If Spring time is when a man's thoughts turn to love then why is Valentine's Day in Summer (or Winter, for those on the other side of the ball)?

Furthermore, why is there a certain time of year for this? I don't really look at the calendar and think to myself Oh, shit, it's September! I need to fuck! If I'm horny, I'm bloody horny.

I can't say hayfever is much of a turn-on either. Sniffly and blood shot eyes, shit yeah, I'm all on that. Or rather not. Ever.

I had more, but it's gone. Whatever. Ignore sayings and stuff. Fuck when you want to.

The grooves in my cerebral cortex form the words "birth control"

"Well, if you don't like Starbucks' coffee obviously you haven't tried it in the States."

"I have, actually, and it still tastes like shit."


Anyway, as if it's not entirely clear to my readers, with the exception of "The Lost Boys" vampires in movies are whiney little bitches I couldn't care less for. The vampire, in my opinion, is basically moot for anything more than tapping the angst-ridden teenage girl angle.

This in mind I recently noticed something: The Anne Rice "Vampire Chronicles" series was for a semi-previous generation of angst-ridden teenage girls. These girls have now grown up, had kids of their own and now these kids have gotten into "Twilight" as their angst-ridden teenage girl series.

In 20ish years, I plan on writing my own series of vampire books and capitalizing on the third generation of angst-ridden and so-on...

I read bits of one or two of the Rice books and have had a passage of "Twilight" read to me and see creating an emo masterpiece to be in cinemas next season (in 20ish years) is no hard task. I will make a fucking million plus.



I'll get to it later.

Thank you.

Would Mad Magazine call this a "blerg"?

I recently discovered that all I'm anyway halfway decent at writing is this stupid blog, comments on video games and anything involving zombies.

I must embrace this trifecta. This trinity.

I played Left 4 Dead 2 today.

Shit.

The words fly at me faster than I can type, but the vlog is so passe, so the kids that I made up in my mind tell me.



Let's try something else, shall we?
So, a couple have told me that they read this business I lay into the tubes, and one can assume they return for more. Now while I'm trying to keep this free and fun, I'm also down with what the people want. If you read and like, dislike, etc., my blog then by all means, feel free to throw pies full of poo of critique my way. It's how I prefer.

I go hide now.

Did I ever tell you about the time...

Last year the batteries in my wall clock died, preventing it from telling me the time until new ones were put in it. During the period that time had stopped (according to the clock, that is), there were no tidal waves, the seas didn't boil and volcanoes didn't shower the earth's surface with destruction.

Just because the Mayans stopped counting doesn't mean the proverbial is going to hit the fan. Get over it.


Spending your family Christmas party on the couch watching golf is stupid and ignorant. Also it's very rude. My uncle's actions put a large crimp on my day late last year and was the final straw that destroyed any yule cheer I may have still contained. Cutting off an important conversation about something those partaking all care about for a trivia quiz is also quite rude.

Yeah, that'll do.

My social network can beat up your social network.

Does it bother anybody else that pineapple is often abbreviated as "pine" on juices and such (ie: Pine/Passionfruit)? I feel I'm about to drink air freshener. Or tree.

Also, I considered entering the Escapist's webcomic competition but later thought not to, as my previous webcomics lead to laziness and lethargy as well as the fact I really ain't that good at comics. Someone else would no doubt win over me if I did enter and that's not just me being defeatist, I know at least ten people that can and have done better than myself. I reckon I'll just stick to putting stupid drawings up here from time to time.

That's all I had. Don't forget kids, drugs are bad.

Uuugggghhhh. Ehhhhh?

Sydney, went there.

Saw Them Crooked Vultures and enacted my rules of mosh pit etiquette and was complimented by a couple of strangers on my conduct during the show.

Home, went there too.

Finished off the deck with the help of Smell and JJ, mum was foreman. It's not pretty, but it does the job.

Spent most of the weekend playing video games, finishing both "Batman: Arkham Asylum" and "Modern Warfare 2".

I initially bought "Modern Warfare 2" just to see what the fuss was all about and to kill time until "Assassin's Creed 2" and "Left 4 Dead 2" were released, played it for a bit then shelved it when those games were available to me.

A problem I've always had with the "Call of Duty" series is the realism involved in the production, if you can look past having to hide behind something whilst invisible windscreen wipers remove the jam that's been spread across your vision it's certainly a game based in a whole lot of reality.

As I'm sure we all know by now, there is a level that involves killing innocent people in an airport. At first, I was looking forward to this, as I absolutely detest airports, but once I was in the moment and found myself standing over a civilian that was hunched over, hands on head, pleading for his life while I put a bullet in his head, I stopped and thought, wow, this is NOT cool, and continued the level not firing a single shot.

Boy, "Pong", we sure have come a long way, haven't we now? I don't want to sound all fuddy duddy and what not, but how does this pass as "entertainment"? Yes, Infinity Ward, the company responsible for the game gives players the option of skipping that particular level, it still doesn't sit well with me that it was in the game at all. I know it's there to make the player hate the bad guy, but surely this could have been done in a cut scene.

I think I'm gonna end this before I sound like a bunch of other folks who no doubt blogged about this long ago, just wanted to update this thing for once.

I'll probably post something before the week is over to give more of a catch up of my latest adventures and what not but for now, this is it.

Take it easy, folks!