21st Century Man: Thugs Or Wimps – Choose One.
Thugs up in your grill?
More and more often I find myself horrified at the brutality of my city. I’m sure violence and robberies and assaults are rampant in any big city the world over, but I’m amazed at how many of these situations occur in broad daylight or in the middle of a crowded street.
It seems the majority of men out there today are either thugs doing the intimidation, or are wimps turning a blind eye.
I know this sounds pretty bloody harsh, but lately I haven’t witnessed much to sway my opinion. Read the rest of this entry »
The Great Manchester Conspiracy
What I’m about to tell you will blow your mind.
Don't speak of it, or the men in black will getcha.
I’m not fooling around. This may just be the best kept secret since we found out eating Big Macs every day makes you a porker. It involves every single one of us. Well, not homeless people or castaways who sleep naked in hammocks on deserted islands, but pretty much everyone else. And if I don’t blow this conspiracy out of the shadows it may well continue hoodwinking us for thousands of years. Just like the Easter Bunny, or netball enthusiasts.
It’s about manchester. Read the rest of this entry »
Music Snobs
Say no to saying no to music.
I’ve listened to a lot of music. More specifically, I’ve listened to a lot of music I don’t like.
Years of previously working in commercial radio and as a pub DJ has made me quite immune to the feeling you get when a song or genre rears up that isn’t to your personal taste. Sometimes I feel my love of music has been slowly whittled away until finally the 1294th time I hear a cover band play Love Shack it will just extinguish all together and I’ll never listen to music for enjoyment ever again. Read the rest of this entry »
Procrastination & Toenail Clippings, It’s An Art Form.
Crap chores are like a giant pink ban-daid.
Gidday.
So, what are you doing? Yeah, I’m talking to you. No, don’t look behind you. What are you doing right now? I’ll bet it’s interesting. It is isn’t it. C’mon tell me what you’re doing right now this very second – please tell me. Really? You’re cutting your toenails? Can I watch? Don’t you find it a bit off that cut toenails smell like dog poo? Yes they do. Well, try it then, you’ll be disgusted. Actually, you stay there cutting your toenails, and I’ll Google why our toenails smell like dog poo. And then I’ll count every hair on your head. I’ll bet you wanted to know how many you have. I’ve got nothing else I want to be doing. Nothing at all, except crawling up into a ball and screaming until some kind hearted Samaritan puts a nappy on me and tells me everything will be ok if I just get on with it and stopped fucking PROCRASTINATING!
Whoever came up with Nike’s ‘Just Do It’ slogan is a wise person. A wise, sneaker wearing long distance runner into the intricacies of our very souls. Read the rest of this entry »
Mmmm, Let Me Share My fart With You.
It's hard to get away with a sneaky one.
This is the section were we get to have a bitch about what’s pissing us off right now. It’ll always be posted on Monday, just to coincide with the best day of the week – if you’re still drunk from a roaring Sunday session. If not, it’s because Mondays have a tendency to totally blow.
Feel free to comment about what’s pissing you off right now.
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Men stink, we really do. We’re all so bloated with protein shakes and red meat and beer, I’m surprised there aren’t instances of dudes just suddenly exploding in a mushroom cloud of limbs and chemical warfare style gas.
There isn’t because we fart. A lot. Read the rest of this entry »
Peter Pan Syndrome: Will Staying Young Really Win Wendy’s Heart?
Oh Peter, you look sorta - old.
Peter stands on the shore of Never Land, golden sword trailing through shallow water. His small, pointy leather boots slowly fill with sand and discarded cigarette butts from nearby Pirate Town. A little way off shore Wendy kneels at the stern of a small launch being paddled by men with hunched shoulders and ragged hair. The men heave their oars through the water and draw closer to an impressive ship, resplendent with polished rails and colourful flags as if heralding the arrival of the young lady. Also decked out in finery is the man waiting to greet Wendy, who watches her approach through a lengthy spyglass. His richly darkened wig falls over a coat decorated with golden amulets and pearls taken from the most experienced of seafarers and the proudest of island warriors.
On the beach, Peter wipes mucus from his nose and trails it down the front of his green tunic with the back of his hand. “I thought we were in love!” he shouts at Wendy’s retreating figure.
Wendy turns and shrugs. “That may be so, but what do you expect Peter? Hook has a boat, and power, and treasure. He’s taking me to Bora Bora!” Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
Chilli, you’re My Friend, My Hot, Dirty Little Friend.
Ermm, is it meant to self combust?
Chilli and I have been friends for some time now. Very good friends. I’d even say for the amount of pain and enjoyment we’ve experienced together, we could be having one of the most passionate love affairs since Fabio nailed all those women in the romance novels of yore. The lure of its exciting, sexy and vibrant, red outer skin just makes me want to add the dirty little thing to every part of my gastronomic lifestyle.
And like every good romance – love is pain. Read the rest of this entry »
So Should We Slap, Shake, Kiss, Hug, Or Ignore?
This is the section were we get to have a bitch about what’s pissing us off right now. It’ll always be posted on Monday, just to coincide with the best day of the week – if you’re still drunk from a roaring Sunday session. If not, it’s because Mondays have a tendency to totally blow.
Feel free to comment about what’s pissing you off right now.
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"I think my hand is near your penis."
This is something that happens in my life almost every day. Countless times every day.
It’s the simple handshake. But, it’s not simple is it.
Whose hand do you shake? Whose hand don’t you shake? When do you kiss a girl on the cheek? Is shaking a girl’s hand considered rude? Is hugging another man in public weird?
It happens to everyone. You know, that moment when you second guess yourself just before you go to shake hands or kiss someone’s cheek, and there’s that second of not knowing what to do. You know it. The other person knows it. It’s fucking awkward.
Like this:
When All the Planets of the Solar System Align, Then we’ll Have Sex.
"You're right, this IS more interactive than a Wii console!"
We love sex. I love sex, you love sex, my 65 year old neighbours love sex. Actually, they really, really love sex – loud sex. Before you even finish your eye-opener coffee in the morning, you’ve probably been spanked with the notion of sex in a dozen different ways from a dozen different angles. Be it through the telly, newspaper, online news, patting the sauce bottle, squeezing your toothpaste, it’s bloody-well everywhere.
Maybe that’s why everyone freaks out when they think they ain’t gettin’ enough. Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
I’m In A Rally, So Get Outta My Way!
This is the section were we get to have a bitch about what’s pissing us off right now. It’ll always be posted on Monday, just to coincide with the best day of the week – if you’re still drunk from a roaring Sunday session. If not, it’s because Mondays have a tendency to totally blow.
Feel free to comment about what’s pissing you off right now.
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I gotta get home to catch Junior MasterChef!
This is something I notice all the time. It always gives me a flush of road-rage which I then consciously need to extinguish with the thought of they’re just IDIOTS so don’t hold it against them. Plus, it happens so often, if I let it affect me too much I may start wigging out by following them home and stealing their undies to make voodoo dolls out of them – or some crazy shit like that. Anyway, it bugs the hell out of me.
It’s when people turn street corners like they’re in a rally. Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
This Is The Soundtrack To My Soundtrack.
I have something to confess. I’m in love with a 61 year old man. Every time he’s with me in my car, or my lounge room, or my local pub, or even the gym, I hear his voice and the bustling chatter of my mind stops and takes a breath. His name is Darryl Braithwaite. I’ve never met him, but he plays my favourite song of all time. Or at least one of them.
Music makes you feel weird.
You know, your favourite song? It’s the one that makes you sit in your car listening right to the very end even though you’ve arrived. It’s the one you request at your local pub when you’re blind and stumble to it all alone on the dance floor holding your beer above your head. Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
I Do – But I Don’t Do Your Name.
This is a debate I know can get ugly. After writing, I’m going to be looking over my shoulder expecting to be dragged into dark alleys by high-powered female business women and academics. I’ll be tied up with their slimming Shapewear, beaten with iPads and left as a warning to other men who foolishly dare broach the subject.
This subject can get ugly.
After watching a movie the other day called Hot Tub Time Machine – seriously hilarious, there’s a drunken dude dressed as a bear, freakin gold. I began thinking about the traditionally slippery slope of working out what happens to your surname after marriage.
Like this:
Would you like fries with that, you turd?
This is the section were we get to have a bitch about what’s pissing us off right now. It’ll always be posted on Monday, just to coincide with the best day of the week – if you’re still drunk from a roaring Sunday session. If not, it’s because Mondays have a tendency to totally blow.
Feel free to comment about what’s pissing you off right now.
_________________
A happy employee.
So I made the bad decision to grab some Maccas today after waking up too late for breakfast. After wrestling my wallet out of my back pocket, which always seems to take an eternity while the attendant stands watching and waiting, the 16 year old nonchalantly looked out over the roof of my car, said ‘thanks buddy’, and slammed the drive-through window closed. Read the rest of this entry »
Spit and Spirits goes all onliney.
Spitandspirits now has a Facebook and Twitter page. Like or follow to grab an update to new posts and all that garbage.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Spitandspirits/151452864875060
Twitter: http://twitter.com/spitandspirits
I sometimes eat breakfast after 11, and I’m a human being.
I love breakfast, I really do. The thought of having a heaped plate smelling of bacony, eggy, tomatoey, grill greasy goodness really gets me searching for my undies. Even more so if I’ve had a big night and can’t quite remember if I ate dinner or actually did manage to stop for pizza on the stumble home. Either way, I love it, I really do.
Shit breakfasts are scary.
I stayed in Noosa recently for a wedding. Beach, seafood, booze, and ok I’ll say it – buckets of love. It was awesome. And just between you and me, enough to get the biological clock ticking. The next morning after rising late we found a suitable hipster/surfer/touristy cafe with the thought of ordering some breakfast. A big, snuffling breakfast. Nope. It was 11:45, breakfast finished at 11:30. Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
Tight Denim, Tyler Durden and the Dirty Thirties.
Finding your masculinity can be damn hard for young men of today. Thanks to Father Time, you don’t find it, it finds you.
“So what do you think?”
My Girlfriend turned and looked as I stood wearing a jacket I’d picked off the rack.
“Yeah, I like it,” she said. “Sort of Tyler Durden looking.”
“Really?” We were doing some Sunday arvo shopping and had stopped at a little boutique in Paddington.
“Yes,” came the rasping verdict from the 55 year old shop assistant. “Very masculine.”
My mind started throwing around pictures of Tyler Durden, Han Solo and Aragorn. These dudes are men. I’m not a man. Since when did strangers complement me on my masculinity? I puffed my chest out and squinted a little. I guess the jacket did make me look a bit Tyler – if the light was dimmed, and if I had a chiseled haircut, and a tan, and a completely different body. Read the rest of this entry »
Like this:
Don’t drink? You some kind of pussy?
So, I don’t drink. Believe me, I would love to. But the choice has been taken away from me recently.
It’s not because I want to wow my hot yogalates instructor, and it’s not because I suffer from alcoholism. My body one day just decided it had had enough and gave me an extreme case of pancreatitis – it’s when the pancreas tries to digest itself. From now on every alcoholic drink is damaging and causes a shit load of pain. A specialist explained why alcohol specifically has this effect, but the best I can come up with in my own words is – it’s like my pancreas is the Death Star with its shields down and booze is like X-Wings on crack attacking it. Oh, and now the shields are down, they stay down. Forever. Read the rest of this entry »
Whacking Day – Who will save us now that Barry’s gone?
Whack slow, or whack quick.
Oh Homer, I love you dearly. Not only have you helped to raise me from a child through countless re-runs but you’ve taught me how to become a man. You’ve taught me that as long as my heart is pure, being clueless and happily naïve is socially acceptable behaviour for a thirty year old. You’ve even taught me about how wrong it is to bash in the skulls of defenceless animals, even though it’s a completely legalised government initiative.
Yep, whacking day has come to Queensland. Read the rest of this entry »
