So my new book is out, its about all the most embarrassing things that have ever happened to me, and mental illness, lots of mental illness, and overcoming that stuff!!! Or making it worse, you know, it's a slippery slope...


http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00AZK8VII/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

A gift from me – a new hair metal ballad

The other day I saw Aerosmith and Cheap Trick, and it was awesome. Yet a few things hit me up front.

- There are still actually people who will verbally complain at you if you stand up at a rock concert
- These people epitomize everything I hate in the world
- Except for cliff diving not being an Olympic sport
- Which I hate, yet is probably not that persons fault
- Although I doubt she was a cliff diver
- Or even a cliff diving enthusiast enthusiast
- Fucking loser
- Those guys in those bands are old and still rock like shit
- I should stop complaining about my tired old joints at only thirty five
- There hasn’t been a proper hair metal ballad for a long time
- I should write one
- Like this one

Please be my n 'roll

(Verse 1)
I was living hard
But feeling soft
I was reaching high
But feeling low
I was hoping big
But feeling small
I was reaching wide
But feeling narrow

(Bridge 1)
Finding my life in a car
Just before I had to pay the garage toll
And yet spare change appeared
Like from a magic hole

(Chorus 1)
You were that hole
Because you are my rock
Please let me be your n’ roll

(Verse 2)
I was hoping for smart
Yet feeling dumb
I was dreaming of Thai
Yet feeling Korean
I was trying to see
Yet wearing specs
I was not wanting to be blind
Yet not really seein’

(Bridge 2)
Finding my life in a boat
Just before I had to pay the river-crossing toll
And yet spare change appeared
Like from a magic bowl

(Chorus 2)
You were that bowl
Because you are my rock
Please let me be your n’ roll

(Bridge 3)
Finding my life in a airplane
Just before I had to pay the sky toll
And yet spare change appeared
Like from a magic soccer goal

(Chorus 3)
You were that soccer goal
Because you are my rock
Please let me be your n’ roll

- Now for the best part
- I am not currently in a hair metal band
- This means I have no use for this song
- Bridge means ‘over a body of water'
- Hence the river reference
- If I was in a hair metal band I am not sure if we'd use it anyway
- I mean obviously it's brilliant
- Yet I am fond of being wasteful
- Like starting new points
- That could have finished in the
- Last point
- But was started
- On
- A pre
- vious
- Line
- So I am offering it for sale to the highest bidder
- If you need help with how certain rhymes need to be pronounced to rhyme I’ll totally do that with you
- If you need help with the imagery then please remember that the 'rock' and then the 'n' roll' are supposed to be metaphors for 'rock n' roll'
- I know that confuses some people
- If you buy it you should totally rock it please
- If I don’t feel that you think of her as a hole then no one will
- And I wrote it
- And thought about at least two or three ladies while I did
- I don’t think ‘garage tolls’ exist but if you sell it people will believe it
- Same with 'sky toll'
- Although I think river toll is real
- That’s one of the keys to rock ballads
- Be fake yet with a huge nugget of truth
- If you buy it I will consider you my roc
- K
- Please let me be you’re n’ roll

Inside the mind of a crazy person


On the train - An insight into my mind

On way to the metro station I counted all of my coins, and prepared myself with the exact right change for the ticket machine before I arrived.

I had a pocket full of change but I had to count it just in case I wouldn’t have enough change for the way back, because if that was the case I would have to make sure to save a dollar bill that was crisp enough to work in the machine because if I ended up having to use a five I’d end up with more change and I always have too much change, it’s a constant battle to manage it.

I put my coins in the machine, a mixture of dimes, quarters and nickles, and when all the coins had entered the machine it claimed I still owed 25c. This made me mad, as I had pre-counted my coins. I knew I had put them all in. I waited for a moment thinking that perhaps the machine was just slow in counting, and I hadn’t noticed because I was putting in a bunch of coins and not paying too close attention as they added up, but after a few moments I was convinced now that the machine thought I owed another 25c.

I checked every slot in the machine for the missing quarter, I checked the floor just in case I had somehow dropped it and not heard in land, even though the very thought seemed ludicrous, because I am always aware when I drop coins, mostly because if I drop a penny do I look desperate for picking it up, or do I look more like an ungrateful bastard if I don’t pick it up? After a few moments of looking around I was now convinced the machine had ripped me off. I was angry for a couple of seconds, cursing the machine makers for their incompetence, and the government for allowing money like this to be stolen from citizens, and thens something occurred to me.

Tickets are $1.50 not $1.25.

Now I beat myself up for being so fucking stupid as to forgetting this, as I’d just ridden the metro a couple of days earlier and had made a big deal to myself over thinking it was $1.25 only to find out it was $1.50 and how mistakes like that completely undo the good work of pre-checking change rations.

Now I imagined what would have happened had I verbalized my complaint that the machine had missed registering my 25c only for someone to pull out security footage proving that I'd only put in $1.25 and then just how fucking humiliated I'd be learning it was $1.50 and trying to defend myself saying 'it was $1.25 when I used to ride all the time, so I am not a complete moron' but knowing even I couldn’t defend that argument because I had travelled on the metro two days earlier and had made a mental note to not forget that it was now $1.50 and come to think of it am I really sure it was ever $1.25? Actually no. Man what a fucking fool of myself I would have made had I complained which I would never have done because I never do complain just in case it ends up that I was in the wrong and would look like an idiot.

This made me flash back to New Zealand ten years ago when for only the second time ever, I honked my car horn. A man made an illegal move on some road nearly crashing into me as I drove my rental car to the airport to fly home and an accident now would have caused me who knows how much hassle. So I honked him.

About two years later I was reading a story on driving trips in New Zealand in an Australian newspaper and it mentioned something extremely alarming. There was a particular driving law that in New Zealand is the opposite of what it is in Australia, which has been known to cause accidents when Australians drive in New Zealand or vice versa. I didn’t remember that exact situation which took place when I had honked my horn in New Zealand, but now I suddenly thought ‘oh my god, that time I honked my horn in New Zealand, maybe it was in fact ME that was in the wrong and therefore not only did I nearly cause an accident but I honked my horn in anger even though I was in the wrong! Holy fuck, what a fucking asshole that would have made me!’

I imagined the other driver telling the story to his friends ‘so this guy nearly hits me with his car, and then HE honked ME’ and now all these guys hate me too ‘what a fucking wanker that guy is, if he comes around here again I will kick his ass for you’.

‘Oh my god’ I though ‘if this spreads, half of fucking New Zealand is probably going to hate me’.

I have literally never honked my car horn since, and now, quite regularly, if a situation comes up where I think I am in the right in any walk of life, I think of this moment in New Zealand and hold back my anger, because sometimes when you think you’re in the right it turns out you were actually in the wrong, and to get angry when you are in the wrong is unforgivable.

Feeling like shit, I go to pull out the extra quarter I need to pay for my ticket. This isn’t as easy as it seems, because now I have to re-count all of my coins to make sure I still have change for the ride home, now needing 25c more than I thought I was going to need, and yet possessing 25c less than I had on my original count. Low and behold, I now no longer had enough change for the ride home.

‘You deserve that for being a fool’ I said to myself. Then I flashed back to the small pile of coins on my floor in my apartment that had fallen out of my pocket as I switched my belt from my jeans to my shorts. I thought they were all pennies so I didn’t pick them up at the time ‘are you sure there was not a quarter in there’ I now said to myself ‘if you get home and it turns out there was a quarter which could have saved you from this mess you are going to look like such a fucking idiot! Why do you always have to be so fucking lazy, would it have been that hard to pick up those coins when they fell? Is your life really better procrastinating over little shit like that, you are going to look at them there fifty times and think about picking them up but choose not to, even though you know picking them up right away only takes a moment. No wonder your not successful if you waste time like this you fucking loser’ I said to myself.

I looked in my wallet. I had several one dollar notes and I pulled out the crispiest of them all, I decided to punish myself for being so stupid with the coins by wasting the nicest bill in my wallet on a metro card, when it could have been used on something more fulfilling like a can of Diet Dr Pepper.

I thought about separating the crisp one dollar bill, and fifty cents into a separate pocket, so that I wouldn’t forget and accidently spend them - ‘are you really such a fucking idiot that you can’t remember not to spend your metro ticket money?’ I said to myself. And felt like a moron for knowing that there was a possibility that I was that big of an idiot, but then in a moment of optimism thought ‘no, anytime I see that crisp one now I will be reminded of what an idiot I was, and I won’t forget not to spend it as long as I remember I am an idiot’.

I caught the train and got on with my afternoon, and only four or five times did I think about the 25c fiasco again over the next couple of hours.

Now it was time to catch the train home. As I pulled out the crisp one dollar to put in the machine I felt a mixture of self-loathing and pride as I remembered how it had come to using a bill instead of coins, but then felt good about myself for not actually accidently spending the dollar. Then, as I walked to the turn styles disaster nearly happened.

A huge gust of wind hit me, and my ticket nearly blew out of my hand!

Even though it did not, I was now forced to consider what I would have done had it actually blown away. I dealt with the idea of trying to chase after it and quickly passed on that. Chasing after a ticket blowing in the wind in a train station would make me look like an idiot, and I did not want to look like an idiot who couldn’t even hold on to a friggin’ piece paper in front of all of these strangers.

‘What if I just didn’t buy another ticket’ I thought ‘my conscience would be clear because I would know that I had in fact paid the money for a ticket, but then this lead me to go through the melodrama in my mind of trying to convince a ticket inspector that I did buy a ticket and that it had just blown out of my hand, which lead me to spend the entire ride detailing to myself every minuscule detail of my ticket buying process so if I had to testify to a non-existent ticket inspector, or even higher authority, about my non-existent lost ticket I wouldn't forget any detail or stumble in a way that made me seem like I may be making it up, even though I knew that if I had I actually lost my ticket I would definitely have purchased a replacement, because I find even the idea of having to defend a truth I cannot prove to a person in a position of power who has no reason to believe me nothing short of endlessly excruciating.

In the middle of all of this ticket buying anguish I was out to check out some car yards. I need to buy a car so I don’t have to ride the metro, and so I can get to places the metro doesn’t even go, like almost everywhere in Los Angeles. Fucking up the purchase of a $1.50 metro card caused me all sorts of anguish today, so you can only imagine the dilemma buying a car is for me. I was considering blogging about it but really there is not enough space in cyberspace to fit all of the little things that I worry about, beat myself up about, and dislike about the process. Let’s just say I hope to get it done soon, but doubt I will.

By the way when I got home I did check to see if there was a quarter among the coins on the floor. There was not. But I still did not pick them up.

And now in really simple riddles
What is the gender of the author of the following quote?

'Reece Witherspoon has only gotten more beautiful since having children'

a. A man
b. A woman
c. You are a sexist douche-bag for writing this blog
d. She never was beautiful, let alone now MORE beautiful
e. Chocolate and peanut butter should never make love
f. A transgender
g. I'm too busy masturbating at pictures of her from that time she went topless before she was famous to answer this question
h. I think she is gorgeous, and I'm a man, and my boyfriend agrees
i. With a spoon, more like with my penis, am I right?
j. Isn't a multiple choice supposed to have four answers at most?
k. A multiple choice can have as many answers as you want you asshole
l. Maybe I'll keep adding more just to fuck with you people
m. I just realized that I was completely messing up the alphabet here
n. That's pretty pathetic, even if you have fixed it
o. If you fixed it then why are you still mentioning it
p. An alien that looks like a woman
q. If 'Q' is always followed by 'U' then why doesn't the alphabet reflect that
r. I hope he doesn't try and drag this out to 'Z'
s. Hermaphrodite


If you chose A, K, Q, or U you are correct.

If you have noticed there was no U then you are also correct

If you think chocolate and peanut butter shouldn't be friends then I agree

If you can hook me up with her please do so

If you can't then who can you hook me up with, I am horny and lonely, please help!

Lesbians are beautiful
I had long hair for about six long years.

HAD long hair.

In the middle of the night, around a ten days ago, I was feeling inspired by a beautiful two month long insomnia bout, mixed together with watching lots of Californication while thinking 'I'm a writer too, if I had that haircut would I get all those women throwing themselves at me?' It was a perfect storm.

It was around 4am when I thought to myself ‘why not try a little trim, and see if I like it?’ then I could just keep trimming a bit more every day or two until I'm no longer inspired to continue. Just see how short may suit me. It was a perfect plan.

It took about two or three nights of dawn trimming before I realized that I had made a big mistake. I have cut my own hair maybe a hundred times in my life. On at least a hundred of those occasions I have thought to myself after ‘I really, really should never ever do that again’. I am the perfect example of stupidity.

The first couple of nights I thought it was looking alright, and so I was motivated to continue. Yet the shorter it became the more obvious it was that I had left huge imbalances of length and texture, almost as if I was both not an expert at this, can’t look at my own head from above, and was cutting with blurry insomnia eyes. So I kept trimming away hoping to even it out, always thinking ‘evening out wont make it seem shorter, it’s just evening it out, right?’

For the next ten nights my insomnia continued, now fueled by what was becoming a clear obsession. I have a huge mirror next to my bed and I kept studying my hair and then running back to the bathroom and trimming more…….. and more and more and more. And it wasn’t looking good, no matter how many people told me it was, so I thought simply 'this looks AWFUL, maybe if I trim more I can fix it'.

With my hair mania reaching the point of pure paranoia to the point that every laugh I heard anywhere near me was a group of people pointing at me saying 'look at that guys stupid hair' I knew it was time to let a professional have a look. I figured the professionals eventually fixed that BP oil leak, so there is an outside chance they could do something with the even worse disaster that is my head.

Now, I have a love hate relationship with hairdressers.

I love the massage chair while my hair is being washed, and the feel of another humans hands in my hair.

I hate hate the small talk, and I am always petrified that I'll raise all the cliché topics they're sick of talking about all day everyday, so I sit there half mute with a weird ‘thinking’ look on my face’.

I love love love watching people work creativity with their hands; it gives me shivers down my back with a feeling of pleasure that surpasses any sexual encounter I've ever had.

I hate hate fucking hate making small talk, especially when I'm having orgasm like shivers and I'm talking to the one male hairdresser after all the cute girls got allocated to the heads around me.

I love that there are cute girls who often have unique and funky look.s

I hate that no matter where I go or what I ask them to do to my hair they only hear one thing

‘Lesbian’

'just a trim and tidy up please' I say
'No worries’ they reply ‘hey this is my mind talking it’s so nice to find a client I can communicate with telepathically! So just so were clear, you just told me with your voice for a trim but with your mind you said to do everything humanly possible to make you look like a lesbian right? If so look straight ahead with a weird ‘thinking’ look on your face’ they think.

So I went along. And I asked for ‘not too much length off, just tidy up the mess I made of this head o’ mine please’ and you know what? She cut almost all my hair off. It turns out ‘not too much length off’ means ‘all of it off please’ I really need to work on my accidental telepathy.

Anyway I think it looks pretty good, because people keep saying to me ‘it looks pretty good’. Actually people keep telling me ‘wow, that’s so much better, so glad you got rid of that long hair, all this time you looked so awful but I never wanted to tell you, even though, in my opinion, you basically looked like a homeless bum with that messy shit and I am surprised I let myself be seen in public with you’. It turns out I was not the perfect friend.

Oh also I was walking around the other day and I heard a lady turn to another lady and say ‘that’s a really cute beard on that lesbian’.

Now for some sleep.

Dear Expert
I'm glad I don't write a 'Dear Abby' advice column because then even the birthday song becomes a request for advice:

'Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Dear Abby'
'Wait wait wait, seriously you’re going to throw one of those at me now? Give me a break for fucks sake, how dare you try to make me work in the middle of my birthday song!''
'No no, it’s nothing, it's just the song'
‘Oh it’s just the song, it’s just the song, now help me, right?
‘No, not at all’
'So why do you have to include ‘Dear Abby’? It's supposed to be my day off!'
'That’s just how it goes, I swear, everyone gets 'dear' and then their name’
‘So you're saying everyone is trying to take my job now, ‘Dear Steve’, ‘Dear Phillip’, ‘Dear Dramquilla’ and you're telling me this on my birthday, very classy, thank you, and I'll remember this every year too, because you told me during my birthday song, thanks a lot you cunt'
'Um Abby? Are you sure you're qualified to give 'advice' to people?'

No sir, not for me one little bit. I guess what I am really asking is this - is your name really ‘Expert’?

Some very good advice
On how to….. Wait for the excitement….. Fix a fridge!

Cricket, for those who don't know, is an awesome game. In its best variety, known as ‘test cricket’, a match lasts for five days. Some of the awesome elements included in this sport during these five days are:
- Long periods where seemingly nothing happens
- Heavy drama that to many looks like people just standing around
- The daily tea break
- Ducks (seriously)
- A player position known as ‘silly mid off’ (also ‘silly mid on’!)
- Another known as ‘the night watchman’ (that sounds like a superhero!)

Don’t you just love it? Ha ha, I put a question mark as if you may not!

One way to put it is that if sex is a super fast-paced game that lasts for 90 odd minutes, then test cricket is like spending five days in bed with a beautiful new lover mixing up long periods of cuddling and staring into each others eyes with regular unplanned moments of passion. Plus cool helmets.

A less erotic (and therefore less awesome) way to describe cricket is that it’s just like baseball only with way different rules and tactics and with way cooler helmets (cricket ones have face masks!)

So you can imagine my frustration, anger and desire to rip heads off little girls dollies when yesterday I was lying in bed, alone, watching the cricket, smack bang during one of the mesmerizing long period of seemingly nothing happening, when abruptly my electricity went out! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

First thing first - locate the problem (some of you may have already guessed that it will end up being the fridge). I made a quick guess that it was probably the fridge, but only after I had made sure that no power points were overloaded, that nothing was on fire, that I had scratched my head until I had blood under my fingernails, and had looked around. Looking around of course being a euphemism for fifty times looking past your houseguest's chest who is wearing a see-through singlet and no bra, all the while pretending to be checking all the lights and appliances that are located behind her. And eventually making the discovery that her breasts are lovely and your other houseguest has actually checked the appliances, and god bless braless boobs in see-through singlets. That may in fact be the best sentence in the English language.

Note to self: write a book named ‘god bless braless boobs in see-though singlets’.

Having played around with the fuse box (note to self: next time don’t use a wet coat hanger) I came to the expert opinion that the problem was either the fridge or some other unknown problem. I had to pull the fridge out of its cupboard to confirm; horribly this required finding screwdriver.

If you're like me you have several tools in your house, consisting of a tool set given as a gift ten years ago that is always missing the exact parts you need for whatever you need to fix, and a screw driver you've had since stealing it from your dad 22 years ago to fix a skateboard.

I have a special 'tool draw' where I personally put the tools after every use, so my tool draw was full of plastic bags, light bulbs for lights I no longer own, and indistinguishable bits of moldy food scraps that I’ve been promising to clean out for years and will eventually do so the day I ultimately decide to sell the place, upon when I’ll think 'that's much better, I should have cleaned that 17 years ago'.

I found the toolbox in the spice cupboard and went to grab the screwdriver set. Last time I needed tools the much-needed wrench was missing from my toolbox but it was back today, laying uncomfortably in the spot the much needed screwdriver should have been. The other screwdriver was discovered after literally a five-hour search, conveniently in the cutlery draw under 12 forks.

It was finally time to unplug the fridge and it turns out (and this may surprise some of you) but it WAS the fridge that was the problem. It is now sitting on my balcony and I am hoping that it drying out may stop what ever was shorting out the electricity. It’s the best repair idea I can come up with.

The lessons are:
- I probably need a new fridge
- This cricket game is going along awesomely but
- I would actually prefer five days in bed with a new lover

The truth about what is about to come, fuck you rapture

Apparently some crazy religious coot has predicted the end of the world again this coming week, and while crazy old coots are rarely wrong I for one think that our impending death is only a small part of the upcoming week that we need to give serious thought about. And as a crazy young coot I am in the perfect position to predict what's going on. Here are MY predictions for the IMPORTANT stuff that's going to happen this week. Take THAT old man!


A volcano on a small island of Indonesia will erupt; no one was hurt as it will be the first volcano to erupt soapy water. It is shall become the world's biggest slip n slide!

Hell Yeah! We should go!


A man will attempt to eradicate starvation in Africa by collecting all pickles picked out of cheeseburgers, and all tofu picked out of Asian food, and sending it over.


Wow that's gross, in protest I say we all agree to refuse to call cheeseburgers 'cheeseburgers' until the other ingredients get the same billing as the cheese!


Double chins will be renamed 'chin scrotums' or 'chotums' for short.


Damn it, now I wish I had a double chin, where can a guy get a friggin' cheeseburger around here?


Someone will cook some lamb in New Zealand!


I think I'd make a good parent of a lamb. 'Where's the toilet?' You're standing on it. 'Where's dinner?' You're standing on it. Well… good luck.

War will once again break out between Israel and Palestine, although both sides will agreed that the only weapons allowed are feathers, a spokesperson will say 'we're going to laugh about this feud one day any way, why not laugh during it too'

That's awesome I can't wait to see Spielberg's movie adaptation of the events, I hope it stars me, can any of you teach me a Palestinian accent?


A man will try to impress a horse by telling it 'I knew your mother before she was glue'


That's smart of him; if he said 'before she was dog food' it may have been upsetting.

Politicians in political settings will do something disappointing

Wait, WHAT? I thought politicians were flawless I'm shocked, damn it the whole world could be about to fucking end, oh my god. We better enjoy ourselves this week; this could be our very last chance to do certain fun activities that in my opinion are most enjoyable when shared between a man and a woman. DAMN YOU POLITICIANS! I bet they'll even ruin the volcano slip n slide!

I hate you science, you fat bastard

That's some sexy sexy kitten science