Well.... hello there.

I thought I'd give all the homies in the room a couple of words. I am of the understanding that Dudes and Chicks Who Read Blogs think words are pretty freakin' fantastic. So let me indulge the homies.

First word "Updatation".

This word refers to the veritible sledge hammer of personal facts I am about to unleash on your house.

Second word "House".

Oh. Crap.

We are buying a whole freakin' muthafreakin' homestead of a house to call home freakin'.
Our landlord offered to sell us the house we've been in for 2 years. Having missed the housing boom, I pretty much gave up the idea of ever actually owning any property. I was totally cool with that, it seems like an entirely too mature thing to do. Plus, owning stuff means you can't just get up and go. That said, we got a great deal on it, the landlord got a good deal, the crapola real estate agents lose out, and while the next few years might be a little tough financially, it should all be pretty rocking. I'm excited about paying it off and then living for free while the little red rockstar is excited about replacing carpets and putting things in walls. All in all, everyone is happy. I am still pretty freaked, but I'm sure I'll get distracted by something soon enough.
It's a great investment and a good homestead for us, all in all, win.

Next word "Boxing".

What the?
Um, yeah, tonight my friends have convinced me to try out some boxing classes because pretty much they don't want to go along. I always thought boxing was for the braindeadbraunheads, but I will admit The Power of One always stuck with me. I'm excited to give it a try even though I don't believe I'm actually going to give it a try.
I'll let you know how that one goes.
I'm still doing Kung Fu but we accidentally didn't go for 3 months. We went back two days ago and were totally crap. Fitness is currently at zero.
Also, it looks like in 6 weeks I will be attempting a 100km bike ride. Currently 13kms kills me, so I'll be looking to rapidly improve through the motivational tool called Fear.

This time two words "Champions Online".
This is a computer game. I'm usually crap at all computer games, and am crap at this one, but I love it. It gets released in Australia today but I was so excited I ordered it from America.
YOU CREATE YOUR OWN SUPERHERO! Holey crap. Awesome. So awesome.
I have become so enthused that I've actually created this but well, damn.

Um, any other words?
Hmmm, probs "Rockin', "Hi", "Catch ya later Bill 'n' Ted", "etc".

HB to me.

Today is my 31st birthday.

While I think I can be quite the attention seeking laughwhore, I'm always a bit shy around attention that has been thrown upon me rather than me going out and grabbing attention with ridiculously humourous and impeccibly timed qwips.

The walk along the corridor to my department filled me with supershy, knowing that my workmates were going to make a fuss as soon as they saw me.

I have, however, survived, unscathed and had some cake to boot. Getting older rocks.

One thing that doesn't rock, is getting older (confusing no?). I would say my greatest fear in life, is not public speaking or dying, but getting old. Not old like 35, 40 or 57, but old old. Old where you start to become quite unaware of what's going on around you, where you are deafer, blinder, non working of knees, where you're frustrated with the failings of your own body and start getting grumpy/crotchety but secretly know that any of those youths could break any of your feeble bones just by swinging their iPod at your hip. Damn youths.

Obviously I've got quite some years before all this happens in earnest, but for me, 31 signifies the start of the unstoppable slide. Already, my fast twitch reflexes are slower than a dude half my age. Also, I can describe people, virtual adults even, as half my age. Already, my energy droops and I can make old person noises when I get out of a comfy chair, also some chairs are now becoming comfy.

So, my point to this post is that I'm having a slight freakout. Not because I haven't achieved particular things to tick on the list, but because my dream of becoming a hardcore vigilante dealing death and/or embarrassment to drug dealers is picking up momentum to speed out of my grasp.

My one saving grace of thoughts is that I'm still the youngest and most hopeless dude in my Kung Fu class. Everyone else is better, faster, fitter, older. I wish I was all those things. There might be hope for me yet. Watch out doers of evils!

Friday the night

On Friday night, we did something totally different.

Cara organised a couple of friends to come over, sit on the couch and watch TV with us.
Social engagements to me have always been about doing something, this was the first time I was in a show about nothing, and I tell you, it was pretty freakin' rockin'.

The kids were sitting on our doorstep when we got home, waiting with their sad little abandoned faces. Cara and I used to live with Danielle, and we've come to know and love her partner Bruce, with them they brought a backpack of wine, biscuits and dips.

We chatted and chilled and laughed so much and did the hang out for ages before it was totally time for dinner. Cara and Bruce decided not to take their cold hard cash transportational devices, and I tried my best to hide Danielle's purse so I could pay for dinner. Cara and I had so far provided just the couches. Danielle, being quite the wiley hunter easily found her purse and I psyched myself up for the oncoming battle of payment to be held at the Thai Takeaway register.

We headed into the DVD place first, and Bruce and I shortly abandoned The Quest To Find The Perfect Movie to be all efficient and stuff to pick up the food down the road. With Cara being supersmart and pre-ordering, Bruce and I walked into the resturant to be greeted with so many smiles. A box of kittens has long been voted the cutest thing ever, but sometimes I think a box of Thai people would come a close second.

Anyway, battlelines were drawn. Two men. One bill. Bruce pulled out his cash, a $20 and a $50, I pulled out mine, also a $20 and a $50. The bill was $45. I suddenly and inexplicably reached down in my pocket and realised I only had my wallet. No house keys.

In my distraction, Bruce fiented to the left, parried and thrust the $50 at the waitress. My brain running several seconds behind I chucked my $20 at Bruce and left the resturant. Confused, he grabbed the food and followed.

"I think...." I started, checking all my pockets.
"..that we're locked out of the house."

Dudes are awesome. Instead of chucking a spazz, Bruce just smirked and asked the usual questions; does Cara have a key, do you have a spare somewhere, is the back door unlocked?
No, no and no. Cara didn't bring anything, I don't think.

Bruce and I, in all our smirkingness, went back to the DVD store where the girls had narrowed down to two. They asked our opinion, and we virtually ignored them as I hugged Cara and sneakily checked her pockets.

"What are you doing?" - Is she immune to ninja sneakiness?

"Just checking if you've got cash" I lied and smirked "To pay for the DVD, we're going to go back to the house."

Danielle objected, wanting help to make a movie decision, but we were out of there so fast. Cara didn't have her keys, and we only had minutes before the girls would be home. We walked with comical haste.

Sometimes when I leave the house, to go to the milkbar or something I don't lock the door. I was hoping this was one of those times. It was not.

We live in a townhouse that is surrounded by other townhouses. The backyards are all next to each other and are completely enclosed by other townhouses. I didn't remember opening the backdoor, nor leaving it unlocked, but to get to it, we'd have to be let into a neighbours house and climb over their fence to get in. It wasn't the best plan.

Being dudes with a problem, we took in all the details. Cara had opened the bedroom window a crack to let some air in after the hotness that had been the past few days. Her balcony door didn't look like it had been opened for a week or so. The front window wasn't unlocked at all.

"Try that top window." Bruce said as he grabbed the wheely bin. He helped me up on the bin, and then held his hands on a wall thing to give me a boost upto the next level. I pulled myself up. Before trying the window, I climbed over to the balcony to check that door, no dice.

Climbing back over to the window, I stuck my hand in, and was able to unwind it out further. It didn't go far, but being athletically trim has it's advantages. I was just able to squeeze in, my bum nearly got stuck, but all my body parts thought skinny thoughts and we pulled through. Bruce cheered from the ground level.

Expecting the police at any moment, I quickly ran downstairs, let Bruce in and we went about setting up for dinner.

Time to break in to our house: 25 seconds.
Police called: 0.
Gnarly cool scratches on chest, stomach: 3.

The girls, in their indecision got both movies and rocked up as we grabbed cutlery and drinks for some couch action.

Dudes solve problems.
Proud of our skillz, we regailed the girls with stories of heroics, physical feats, swift action and the fragility of our security.

The girls, impressed with our awesomeness wanted to know more.

"Why didn't you use my keys?"

"Ah, that's why I was checking your pockets, you didn't have them."

"Yes I did, in my back pocket."


Beat.


"What?"

Gah! Who keeps keys in their back pocket?
You can't sit down with that junk in your trunk.

It might be the hard way.
It might be unnecessary.
But Dudes solve problems.

What bleeds my barracas this week.

Souvenirs.

Why do I need a memento of your holiday?

"Hey, I see by your socks you've enjoyed Tasmania."

"Ahhh, no, my girlfriend's aunty enjoyed Tasmania, I haven't done the washing for a bit."

ARC has ruined me for bands.

I've never been much of a spectator.I can watch a whole football game a couple of times a year, but really, it just makes me want to kick some balls, tackle some dudes, way off-time screamers, etc. Bands is the same deal, watching other dudes totally bang out some tunes is fun for like, a couple of minutes, before an overwhelming urge to kick one of them off and rock out on stage takes hold and does not let go. Freakin'.

With Cara's new 2nd band gigging, they asked me to do the lights for one of their shows, and now I've done lighting for almost every one of their gigs. It's awesome! It totally connects me with the band, with the audience and is superfun. I have no idea if I'm doing a good job or not, but I've yet to be punched, so either I'm okayish or peeps are too polite these days.

With the awesomeness, comes the non-awesomeness, which is watching non-Cara bands. Cara loves it, she gets to see what everyone else is doing, gets ideas, inspiration, motivation, makes friends, gets to enjoy music without the luggin' and the setting things up. For me, it's just a bit of standing and being still. Does anyone even like standing?

One of Cara's bandmates little brother posts notes on facebook with a religious ferver about bands he's seen and how much he enjoys it. He seems constantly moved or superimpressed. I just don't really get it.

Of course, I'll still go, I'm more than happy to support the little red rockchick while she does something she loves, I just wish I enjoyed them as much as I enjoy her gigs. Maybe I just need to bring my own lights. Surely the bands won't mind.

One gig I am excited about is Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova doing/being/playing The Swell Season. It's a sit-downery and their songs are so freakin' awes. Maybe I just like bands that I know all the songs of.

Doesn't matter if you're black or white. Doesn't matter, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I've never really done a shot like this before, but it was ridiculously easy to pull off. Light behind the young lady, light in front/slightly above and bang. Photoshop helped me convert to black and white and I upped the contrast. The only I'd like to improve in this shot is more light on her eyes. Something to keep in mind next time.

Adventures in the dirts

I'm not sure why we did this, I think everyone was so super over being ridiculously good looking all the time. Anyways, the models loved it, crazy kids.

You have 5 messages (of lurve of similar - surely).

I've become quite concerned about the lady who did the voice for the messagebank on my phone. I don't know what the market share of the different phone companies are, but there must be a few million Australians who hear her informative yet slightly excited tones each day. What kind of life must she have? Do people subconciously press 1 when she mumbles? Does she find that dudes and chicks press 3 (or 5) halfway through a totally boring sentence? Can she even leave her house? Talk in public? Messagebank lady, are you okay?