Monday, March 8, 2010

The Sizzler of blog posts

I've struck upon my first blogging block - not because I'm without ideas but because life is currently offering up a veritable buffet of isssssews that I'd like to unpack for you all... which particular topic to tackle, now that's my problem. (GOD, when will my genius and seemingly limitless creativity end? Such a burden...)
Seriously though, over the previous two weeks, my precious little mind has clocked a few hot topics that I'd love to wittily unpack and swear procociously about whilst appearing to be some kind of new age no bull-shit philospher because I've got it all sorted. These topics include (in no particular order):
1. Becoming 30 - I quickly scratched this idea because I'm not 30 yet. In fact, my friend Anita promptly pointed out to me that I'm not even 29 yet. Cue me crumpling a legal pad piece of paper and hurling it over my shoulder into the rubbish bin - figuratively speaking of course because clearly I don't write drafts on paper and then transcribe them as a "good copy" onto blogger... I'm not in grade 5 any more people!
However, I will say that getting older has been on my mind and lower back - my osteopath gave me some advice whilst digging his elbow into my ass that "your body isn't getting any younger". Luckily I was already crying from the agony of the treatment, so that additional sobbing didn't seem to phase him. In summary: body crumbling, metabolism slowing, heel cracks deepening, skin de-elasticising, tena lady pads becoming more and more attractive. Hello 29.
2. Blogging about blogging about my friends - I've got some pretty... erm... interesting friends. They're all shapes, sizes, colours, ages and most have just the right amount of skank/kink about them to ensure their stories are fucking hilarious and/or more embarrassing than mine. One in particular requested that I write about her (you know who you are but for anonymity's sake, I'll call you... Rada) but the very thought of it filled me with bile-inducing fear. I mean, let's face it, nobody BUT my friends read this blog and if I start unabashedly ripping the shit through them then my audience numbers will drop from the staggering heights that it currently enjoys down two or three spots to zero. No friend stories = pleased readership.
3. The great fence mounting incident of 1994 - a classic Mengel story where I went to a market with my cousins in Caloundra, tried to climb over a wire fence en route from the carpark with my usual dexterity and grace and ended up hanging from the other side of it by my bike pants and underwear. Underpants shredded with material swinging around my knees, bum hanging out, Beverly Hills 90210 black bike pants destroyed, ego completely trodden on when my uncle loudly proclaimed he could "see my arse!" and all of Caloundra laughed along with him. Good story but rejected as a blog topic. Happy to tell you in person though along with miming the actual "hanging" moment.
So: now that you know what HOT topics were rejected, you'll be sitting on the edge of your seat with anticipation to find out what GEM of an idea actually made it through. Well, after lengthy consideration, and several legal pads of ideas later, I've decided to write-rant about the injustice that occurs on a weekly basis on that bastion of Australian creativity So You Think You Can Dance. It's a JOKE that those impressionable, attractive, fragile young dancers have to listen and, what's worse, show respect and thanks for the fucking trash that spews forth from the gaping wholes in the front of the judges faces. Bonnie is so fucking insipid that she gives me goose bumps. Unlike... erm... the rest of humanity, this woman is incapable of thinking a coherent thought - I've heard more sense come from the giggling ice addict who sits with his face pressed against the building exhaust fan on Little La Trobe Street. Jason is clearly struggling with the concept that the dancers don't choreograph or make the costumes or do anything EXCEPT DANCE JASON. So stop giving them shit coz you don't "connect" with the concept of the dance because - stay with me here Jason - it wasn't THEIR IDEA. Get to judging the dancing you dolt - OH, and while I'm on it, everyone under the age of 35 in Australia thinks you're an old perv. It's inappropriate: you're like some wierd old uncle at a family bbq who presses his crotch a little to close to your elbow at the dinner table. And that's what I think about that... what? there's another judge that I've forgotten called Matt? Oh, I hadn't noticed... nuff said about that sack of snot in a trucker cap. Clearly when personalities were being handed out you were busy wacking off to a black market copy of "Horse and Hound" and missed it all together. Weirdo.
Channel 10, please get one of your SYTYCD producers to strap the three judges down and make them watch an episode ala A Clockwork Orange so they see the verbal turd that they fling about and end this madness now! Seriously.

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