I often wake up next to an armchair with a fuckhole torn into it and two balloons with nipples haphazardly drawn on them. Most times my hang-over has a hang-over. Eat up. Your post is going cold.
Our brave hero plays a dual role: he's Penrod Pooch, the bumbling janitor of a police headquarters; but when crime is committed, he leaps into his special filing cabinet and emerges as a master of Kung Fu - Hong Kong Phooey! But actually, it is Spot, the trusty police cat who solves each crime!
Penrod yearns for Rosemary, the pretty switchboard operator, and she adores Hong Kong Phooey, never dreaming that Penrod Pooch is the same fellow.
I couldn't let this simply waft on by, without at least a nod and a wink to The Most Fantastic Actor/Dancer Of Our Time That Isn't Christopher Walken.
Incidentally, just prior to his death, it was noted on IMBD.com in a recent poll spearheaded by Roger Ebert and Gene Shalit, that Patrick Swayze has, infact, coincidentally appeared in fourteen of The Twenty Greatest Films Of All Time. Creepy coincidence.
For posterity, here is the list.
20. Lawrence Of Arabia. 19. Tiger Warsaw. 18. Youngblood. 17. Death Wish. 16. Next Of Kin. 15. Raging Bull. 14. Black Dog. 13. The Godfather Part Two. 12. Father Hood. 11. Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert. 10. To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar. 09. Red Dawn. 08. Grandview, USA. 07. Powder Blue. 06. Ghost. 05. Dirty Dancing. 04. Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. 03. Point Break. 02. Citizen Kane. 01. Road House.
Let me tell you about the time that we went to see Wagons at the Northcote Social club and it was sold out so we went and saw Spencer P Jones playing for free at The Edinburgh Castle.
Spencer was drunk off his arse. It was inspired. He was playing requests if you bought him a tequila shot and he must've downed atleast six while we were watching him and he had already started playing when we arrived.
Even the bartender was too drunk to pour.
I walked up to the bar and asked for two pints of Mountain Goat Beer.
A second later, a man who was the spitting image of Sir Ben Kingsley sidled up next to me. I'm not joking folks, I did a double take and seriously considered that I might actually be standing next to Ben Kingsley. Then he opened his mouth and the illusion was gone. His face changed.
Spencer talked to the crowd often. He asked a guy with blonde dreads if he realised that dreads were the new mullet? "Back at my house I have a bong and some scissors," he suggested.
SPJ kept forgetting who had requested what and when. He took free tequila shots for Prince songs that he never played. Each song would finish with him banging his guitar to end the note.
He mentioned how Julian Wu was in the crowd and if he's there you know it's the happening gig to be at. Something I'd suspected for some time in simiarly silly ways.
When he played "I don't care about nothing anymore" he singled out the line that Tex Perkins had written with "This is the line Tex Perkins wrote...I hate it when the critics call me a bore." HAH!
He also pointed out despite the lyrics that he did still watch the news and did still care about the war and asked whether we were cool intelligent people or fuckwits who thought that Melbourne was safe.
He told a story that went something like this:
"I don't want to name drop but I was playing with Paul Kelly at the (mumbled) Olympics Closing Ceremony. And Neil Finn was there. Now he's rich and he can afford anyone he wants to play with him. But he had his son on drums. So that's free. He had Wendy and Linda. And he spent all his money on the Midnight Oil guitarist so that was a pretty rocking band. (sarcasm city) Ofcourse Neil hated us because Wendy and Linda liked us. They really liked us. I particularly liked Wendy."
He said that he'd played over time tonight and had earnt another $26.30.
He mentioned how he was sick of looking at that "faggy" picture (the one used to advertise the gig - see below) of him because now he's such a man.
He was playing solo but he asked how we liked his band. How the bassplayer (she) was doing and how his guitarist had walked off.
Someone brought a shot to the stage and said that last song he'd played, they'd paid 30 bucks for the single on ebay, and Spencer said, "30 bucks? Why didn't you just call me? It would have cost you three dollars."
It was magnificient. He was drunker than piss. He thinks Tequila must be good for him because that doesn't make his urine brown. His banter before, after and during songs was genius.
He made a point of telling us all to come and see him before December because after that he was "leaving us all forever."
I hope that's not true.
"You've been great. I've been drunk."
That was the time we went to see Wagons but it was sold out so we saw Spencer P Jones.
"TELL US HOW IT IS BROTHER!"
Spencer: "First, I'm not your brother and second, I only tell you how some of it is. If I told you how it is, you'd hang yourself."
Have you come here to play jesus with the lepers in your head?
On Saturday night, for the low low price of a $25 bribe, Turtle Power was played by the "DJ" at The Corner Hotel and rapped along to on stage in front of a crowd of arm-waving onlookers.
Doovies says: Catching the motifs in a film, and spotting the source of a plot twist. I thought I needed to get out more but that was a beautiful thing
Elle says: i fucking hate that blog...my friend has tried to emmulate it on hers, and it's even worse. I started one called "Three Shithouse Things" to counter it when I was sick last year, but then I got better, and was on holidays, so I left it alone. I may bring it back looking at how this is flourishing.
Doovies says: it's flourishing? do people read this shit?
Doovies says: what I want to know is if she was sadistically raped by a terrier, would she still make a post that day?
Elle says: well, terrier's can be kinda cute.
Doovies says:
1. Eating Chocolate Crackles at lunchtime
2. The warmth of the sun on my neck as I walked through the dog park
3. The exquisite feeling of violation as hot dog come flowed into my ding dong
next episode: Why haven't you erected a statue to Kim Salmon? You wankers! What if I am playing the guitar but I feel like playing the drum? Hmmm? I should be able to play drum if I want to! I like to put the cordless drill on my guitar oui oui!
Apr. 3rd, 2007 @ 05:16 am
SOME VELVET MORNIN' WHEN I'M STRAIGHT. I'M GONNA OPEN UP YOUR GATE.
Term 1, 2007 REPORT: A. Davies
Achievement: C
Effort: B+
Anthony has seen a solid start to his education in 2007. He has undertaken a variety of reading and writing activities over the course of the term, and has proven himself to be quite skilled with language, and has a talent for expressing humour in the written form. However, at times his facetiousness does verge on smartarsedness, and he has regularly shown a lack of regard for commonly used acronyms such as "LOL" and "OMG". He must make an effort to improve in this area if he wishes to continue with a successful career in Internet relations.
If you wish to make an appointment to discuss these matters further, please do not hestitate to contact me via text message on **** *** ***, to arrange an appropriate time. Alternatively, Parent/Teacher Interviews will take place this Saturday night at ** ******* Street ******* (the only PTI that's BYO).
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta.
Mar. 23rd, 2007 @ 11:25 pm
If only my ballbag could grow arms and reach my taint. But even if it could, my taint makes The Great Ocean Road look like Ramsey Street.
I have a bone to pick with Future Doovies.
Last time I saw him, he kicked my seedy motel room door open and stopped me from biblically getting to know the black hooker who's tits I was snorting cocaine off of.
Cockblocker.
The weird thing was, the act of carnality with Le Shondra was exactly what led to him inventing a time machine in the first place and shortly after he stopped me, he disappeared.
Never trust a man who turns up in a space suit.
Today I found out the more fingers I shove up my arse, the funnier I become. By the time I've made a muppet out of myself, I'm funnier than Funs McChuckle and the Laugh Riot. But I can't eat a bag of crisps right away. Comedy comes at a price. (Just quietly, I think you need more fingers -Ed.)
I've been crowned by sorrow. I've been crowned by hate. I've been crowned in black, now I abdicate.
If dogs can lick their own balls, why don't they suck their own dicks and stop humping my leg?
Apparently my Nanna used to sing this song by Irving Berlin (who incidentally only played the black keys on the piano and never really learnt how to play properly) to Fuff when they were younger. I am including it here for posterity.
{Intro} Everything went wrong, And the whole day long I'd feel so blue. For the longest while I'd forget to smile, Then I met you. Now that my blue days have passed, Now that I've found you at last - {end intro}
I'll be loving you always With a love thats true always. When the things youve planned Need a helping hand, I will understand always.
Always.
Days may not be fair always, Thats when I'll be there always. Not for just an hour, Not for just a day, Not for just a year, But always.
Ill be loving you, oh always With a love thats true always. When the things you've planned Need a helping hand, I will understand always.
Always.
Days may not be fair always, Thats when I'll be there always. Not for just an hour, Not for just a day, Not for just a year, But always.
Not for just an hour, Not for just a day, Not for just a year, But always.
As the years have gone by, that song title was changed to "Get Fucked Frank!" and it only has the one verse.
I ooze charisma. Oh wait. That's hot come. On your face. Forget I said anything.
Mar. 12th, 2007 @ 06:30 pm
There's a fine line between pussy and ane. You break it once. You shan't do it again.
If you were substantially parched in the desert milady and I were a cactus, would you knock the top off and drink of me?
I have invented the greatest porno of all time.
A super-hero for the modern era.
With Captain America dead (And how!), I have created his only suitable replacement.
A sexy replacement.
Now you have to bear with me. I know it sounds a tad silly but Walken knows if you've been reading this long enough (Kill Yourself -Ed.), this isn't much of a stretch.
Many years ago, a crazy fellow I shall refer to as Pally TwoPals came up with the premise that a single man could Double Penetrate a woman by his lonesome. The way in which he would achieve a SOLO D.P would be to attach a strap-on to his stomach.
Over a few glorious Laundry Taps (The Alcholic Beverage That's Sweeping A Nation!)earlier tonight, in full view of my future black wife who bore more than a striking resemblance to Gimme A Break's Nell Carter (May James Brown Rest Her Soul), I took this theorem eight steps further.
What if a man were to attach two more dildos to his person? And then perhaps another four dildos to his back? All you'd need is a quad-stack of the finest ladies money could buy on other side of you and THEORETICALLY you could fuck eight women simultaneously.
You'd be a one man gang bang.
It'd be much like rubbing your tummy and patting your head I imagine, EXCEPT WITH SEVEN DILDOS STRAPPED TO YOUR BODY.
It'd be much more than a sandwich, mon frere! It'd be a hamburger with the lot.
*Watched ten hours of Batman: The Animated Series: The New Adventures. Straight. With few breaks. Afterwards, my body felt weird and anxious. (Do you think it had anything to do with the corn beef sandwich and the beef chow mein tv dinner you ingested or the lengthy amount of time that involved NO MOVEMENT WHATSOEVER? -Ed.)
*Caught a glimpse into my future if I don't cut my hair and stop shoving everything that's made of food and booze into my eathole.
*Discovered THIS. It's too freaky that I have a shop named after me in New Jersey that is located in Stuyvesant Avenue (My cigarette of choice).
*Perfected my Burt Reynold's laugh.
*Learnt a valuable life lesson from Neighbours. I must fuck a black woman before I get married (and/or marry a black woman) otherwise I will inevitably cheat on my wife with a black woman. As seen in the recent episodes where Boyd cheated on Janelle with a black woman. In defence of his actions, Boyd said and I quote, "That Hot Mamajama gots Strawb'ry Hubba Bubba 'tween her thighs, framed by chocolate cake. So pink and juicy. I gotsta chew them shits." And I quote.
*Chopped my cock off and threw it in the bin.
*Invented a new confectionery-based icecream ala Australia's Bubble-O Bill (Select 'Streets Bubble-O Bill').
Buffalo Bill. That ain't a gumball tucked in there. It puts the icecream in its mouth.
*Attained a new level of creepiness by seeing new Walken Film 'Man Of The Year' whilst wearing an article of ebay-purchased jewelery purportedly worn by Walken in the film.
*Forgot to write down more hilarity and adventures than you'll ever know.
She so hot, the load turns into a baby before it hits her face.
next episode: Stein's Secret To Clearing A Table Of Five Girls in Two Minutes. Adventures in Blockbusting As Regaled In Bar By Guy. Zoran & The HOT Spanish Inquisition Now With Added Clarinet!
IF WOMEN ARE THE NIGGERS OF THE WORLD THEN WOOKIES ARE THE NIGGERS OF THE UNIVERSE
It's amazing some of the things you come up with when you do a google search. Here's two articles I found while googling for jpeg files of cult comic, "The Adventures of White Arrow and Halfy" for my long overdue Grade Six School Assignment.
Jeff Kaake, 47, and Clint Howard, 54, pressed charges on Monday against Linda Hunt, 113, claiming they were raped vigorously with withered fingers and prop laser guns on the set of 1990's TV Show Space Rangers.
Linda Hunt, who has just finished shooting scenes for 'Stranger Than Fiction 2: Stranger than Fact' in which she reprises her cameo role as a psychiatrist, was unavailable for comment.
Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, another former cast member of the popular Sci-Fi Drama was quoted as saying, "It was a crazy time, the 90's. Especially on that show. Kaakster was addicted to crack-cocaine back then and anything went. He was always trying to be more like his contemporary Bruce Boxleitner, which was odd because it would be years before Boxleitner would actually be a contemporary with his role in Babylon 5."
Tagawa has fond memories of the short-running show but denies being sexually abused by Linda Hunt. "I think it hit Kaake pretty bad when the show was axed due to the controversy surrounding what would later be nicknamed 'Hunt's Bush Gate.' "
Tagawa's recollections of Clint Howard tell another story entirely. "I don't remember him having much of a social life outside the set. He was mostly in his trailer that he shared with some of the extras and set piece animals. One night I remember hearing him drunkenly yelling abuse to himself. It was taunts like, 'You ain't Ron. You're nothing. You're s**t. You'll never be Ron. You're a hasbeen that never was.' "
Clint Howard and Jeff Kaake were also unavailable for comment. However, A spokesperson for Mr. Kaake did issue this statement. "The sexual assaults allegedly perpetrated by Linda Hunt on Jeff and Clint over a period of weeks during shooting of Space Rangers are something that I know still haunt Jeff to this day. All we want to see is justice and financial remuneration to compensate for the career he lost when his innocence was stolen. Thank you."
AAP.
*****
"Night falls on the city. Baby feels the beat. Slick and Sexy Angel Of the street. The queen of all the night birds Watch her when she walks. She don't say nothing baby makes her blue jeans talk.
Night time in the city. Magic in the air. The action starts at midnight she'll be there. The queen of all the night birds a player in the dark. She don't say nothing but baby makes her blue jeans talk."
The opening lines of the greatest book ever written. The Bible.
And so it was, that these infamous phrases were written by John The Baptist back in the black and white days of the Old Testament. It would still be a few thousand years before these words would be immortalised in song by Dr. Hook in the early 80's.
But just what did John The Baptist mean by, "Baby makes her blue jeans, yeah, she makes her blue jeans talk"? This is a question that has mystified Historians, Philosophers and Religion Enthusiasts everywhere for hundreds of years.
In 342 AD, a pagan monk by the name of Thelonius speculated in his documents, 'The Round Midnight Papers', (centuries later becoming a feature film with the very loosely based movie adaptation 'The Cannonball Run 2') that John The Baptist was actually talking about Cheese. He based this notion on the fact that in John The Baptists' era, scraps of left over denim were used to rub cheese into a more palatable form. Thus the movement suggested with 'makes her blue jeans talk.' The "talking" infact a metaphor for the rubbing of denim to mulch and purify cheese.
But what of this "Player in the dark"? Scholars insist that it is a reference to the often present Cloaked Overlord who would oversee the cheese purification methods of ancient times. We beg to differ. A series of scrolls carbon dated to that exact era, state without a shadow of a doubt that this 'Player In The Dark' is infact, Lloyd Bridges sitting on F. Murray Abraham's shoulders, smoking a wooden pipe.
******
next episode: Who really invented Cotton? Brer Rabbit or Former New York Mayor Rudy Juliani? The eternal debate rages on. A contentious issue indeed.
and yes. I'd fuck Queen Latifah.
Feb. 2nd, 2007 @ 03:36 am
When you end up with Wallpaper and the Wallpaper starts to peel, you got nobody to blame but the Interior Decorator. Too bad you decorated your own house.
Last night I saw Tenacious D. It was hotter than hell which was fitting because that was the setting of their show. Kyle forged Jack's signature while he was in the toilet and they both signed a deal to sell their souls to the devil in exchange for getting rich and having a career ('If you sold your soul too Kyle, Why's my career better than yours?'). Once in hell, they create a band that consists of The Antichrist ('Jesus Fucken Christ!' 'No, I'm the antichrist but I get that all the time.') Colonel Sanders ('I killed a million chickens') and Charlie Chaplin ('I'm Gay').
I liked it when 'The Metal' Danced with JB and KG.
Mind you, I didn't pay for the ticket. I gots it for free at the last minute. Yeah, I'm a big fan. BIG FAN.
Festering Hole was the venue where it was held. No Passouts. No Smoking. VB or Light Beer. Hot Day. Lotsa People. No airconditioning or fans. Hotter than fuck. I looked like I'd jumped in a swimming pool with my clothes on, when I finally got out of there. My friend called Lee, who I went with, got a KG guitar pick that was thrown into the crowd. Some dood in line at the bar thought he was so dandy when he got off his mobile, he was all, "I was just talking to MY FRIEND CALLED LEE" and I was like, "Yeah well I'm here WITH Lee. Checkmate Motherfucker."
But The D, did, infact, rock. As if there was any ever doubt. I felt like I'd seen the best show that they have ever done out here because from all reports, the NYE gig of a few years ago was a bit weak even though Jack Black was drunk off his arse and I hadn't heard much about The Hifi Bar gig back in 2003 (although I had wanted to go to that and didn't).
They played for an hour and a half and they had props galore and a filmed segment and Cum Rags for sale at the Merch Desk. Can that be beat?
I have it on good authority, that at the 2003 gig, they screened the hilarious Jack and Kyle Have A Baby In The Desert Sequence and followed it up with them coming on stage with the baby and finding women to feed it. Chicks in the audience flopped their tits out all over the place, and one was chosen by Jack to get on stage and breast feed their child.
That wins. Titties always wins. Titties beats rock. It beats scissors. Yes, even paper.
In total comparison to the Tenacious D gig, tonight I went to the Tote and saw a Gareth Liddiard (The Drones) solo set and The Bakelite Age. It was ten bucks. It was GREAT. Gareth made a joke about Helen Keller that went over a lot of peoples heads and then said, "That's why we go to Europe. People read over there." I love him so much, it's gay. Dan Luscombe and Fiona Kitschin were in tow in the crowd also. I kept looking over at Dan and thinking, "You're not Rui. You're not Rui."
Link Meanie came out with The Bakelite Age and it didn't disappoint. Ross Snout (Link's Brother) was hiding in the shadows. I had hoped he'd play with them for a few laughes but no. While Gareth was on, Link bumped into me but patted me on the shoulder to apologise.
Anyway, enough of this fanboy shite. The point of all of this is, Festering Hole VS The Tote. It's hard to compare the music I saw. Pretty pointless actually. But the crowd is another story. Even though The D Venue was completely FUCKED in almost every way. I had no trouble with the crowd. Nobody bumped me. Nobody got in my shit. The Tote, which I love as a venue, was the polar opposite. It was Cunt City. Abominable. I have no idea why these motherfuckers even turn up to gigs. They're too busy talking inane drivel over the band, getting non-stop beers and wandering around and most importantly, bumping into me, awkwardly pushing past me and drunkenly leaning against me, to actually watch the bands.
The night was topped off by a very brief interlude at The Corner where I turned up and it was Gay Town. I ordered a patented Laundry Tap ( Lemon, Lime and Bitters with a shot of Jamieson Whiskey) and this guy came up right along side me, brushing into me and said, "Jamieson Whiskey goes down soooo good. Sooooo Good." That was apart from the guys that were singing along to songs and bumping and grinding up to Craig at the bar when I got there. Everybody there was fucked regardless of sexuality. They played the trumped up Jamie Foxx version of 'Gold Digger' and it was party town for fucktards. Don't get me wrong, I'll dance to that song inappropriately in regular life but I would never do it in a bar because I actually think it's awesome. Eighteen Shades of Retarded. Looking around at the Corner tonight, I thought for a moment what an old rocker felt like when his local bar became a Pokies Venue and everything he'd known had been taken away.
I was only there to give Craig a tally of results over the Ruffalo VS Pepper debate. He'd had no positive responses because everyone he asked didn't know who Barry Pepper was. Thus, I win.
In the hotel elevator the other day, Larry and I were confused for rockstars by new staff. I don't know what band would look like me and Larry. Maybe if Badly Drawn Boy and A Dave Grohl That Had Let Himself Go teamed up together, it would fit. Nevertheless, it made my dick hard. Also, Larry had just thrown a television set at my cock and proceeded to snort coke off it.
Jan. 21st, 2007 @ 04:16 am
She thought they were on wrong so I pulled it off and put it in her mouth.
At 3am in the morning, Nanna Doovies likes to phone up Quizmania and register. In her own words, she was the only person to know the answer. The answer was "Eggplant." It was worth 2000 clams. She said, "Eggplant, Eggplant" to the television but to no avail. She called three times and never got through. Apparently, nobody got the answer for half an hour. A tragic tale.
When Nanna Doovies isn't calling up Televised Phone-in Game Shows, she also likes to send Christmas Cards with handkerchiefs to ex girlfriends of mine saying, "Miss You" for old time's sake.
Jan. 19th, 2007 @ 03:21 am
1 PART VODKA. 2 PARTS GIN. 4 PARTS VINEGAR AND PLENTY 'O' MILK.
In lieu of having any memory left over what happened on New Year's Whatchamacallit or the week before that or the week after that, this entry has been written by TV's own hellbusiness's last comment and I quote:
"Rumor has it sir, that there was more to 'A Very DooviesDavies Family Christmas Smile Time Special' that didn't actually go to air. I was speaking with one of the tech crew, and he said a sequence in which you threw two Mario Lanza compact discs at the window was cut, because as he put it, you didn't want to come off like an 'asshole'.
I was also informed that you 'threw a tanty' when three of the four producers involved informed you that the scene in which you covered your naked self in eggnog and cried like a girl to illustrate your characters frustration with the current state of socialist politics in a post-modernist capitalist climate would be cut from 23 minutes to a shade over 53 seconds.
I have also been led to believe that Special Guest Stars, the members of Menudo (except Ricky Martin) that no one (even themselves) can name, have sold their story to Who Weekly, labeling the special 'a farcical non-event ego fest'. One of the members continued, 'What we believed was going to be an honest to goodness family special, driven solely by the want to entertain the good people, quickly degraded into a cesspool of garbage, brought about mainly by host DooviesDavies insistence on drinking as much alcohol as possible and consuming as many curried eggs as could be made.'
Not even the comedy stylings of DooviesDavies Brother Shannon could help as it was clearly obvious he was off his face on baby oil. Menudo would later complain that the forty cartons ordered as part of the agreement for their appearance went strangely missing.
What was worse - and also caused the stations' switchboard to go down under a tidal wave of complaints - was Shannon's attempt at the world famous 'Three (3) Watermelons' sketch. The ladder used was clearly 4 feet too short and only 13 of the 156 moustaches had any formal dance training. To make things worse, Shannon kept referring to the character of Barry as 'Handsome'. This was particularly strange, as he was the only human actor on stage at the time.
Next time mate, get your fucking facts straight! You can't hide on the internet mate! All the information is there to see mate! "
Jan. 6th, 2007 @ 09:40 pm
You'll believe a man can fly......OUT OF HIS PANTS.
I had a dream last night that myself, sleazegeek and hellbusiness had gone to a live musical production of He-man. It had a largely Australian Cast. I'm pretty sure Jason Donovan was in there singing at one point and I'm certain that the operatic finale involved Craig Mclachlan being lifted via a wire and flown over the audience and off into a painted sunset.
Perhaps Craig Mclachlan was playing He-man. The roles were hard to pick. I do remember there was a large supporting cast of people in green cloaks that sang and danced. I don't remember Skeletor being anywhere to be seen. However, the end credits that were projected onto a video screen contained brand new animation created especially for the production.
Anyways, we got there late so we couldn't really figure out what the fuck was going on. There was an intermission between the He-man Musical and a second play and we were sitting out in the foyer and this girl I knew from high school called Emily Turner approached us. She used to sing and the like in musical productions during high school. Apparently she was a green cloaked member from this He-man musical extravaganza.
It's interesting to note the real life adventures that have influenced this dream. When I was a young doovies, my dad took me to a shopping centre to see a live musical performance of He-man and She-ra. To this day I can still clearly remember She-ra singing 'I'm Walking On Sunshine' and I remember seeing the man who played Skeletor taking his latex mask off out the back. It spoiled the illusion. Skeletor had black curly hair. I really shouldn't have paid attention to the man behind the curtain.
Also in reality, I recently discovered that porn star Lanny Barby is almost a dead ringer for Emily Turner. I had a crush on this woman for most of highschool and for quite a few years after. What has her look-a-like pornstar sister have to do with any of this? Read on.
Back in the dream, my friends and I are talking to Emily in the foyer and catching up. She has some friends with her as well. One of them looks a bit like a cross between Scary Spice and Alfre Woodard but she's hot. Turns out that they have all moonlit as Pornstars in the past. I am shocked at this. Particularly since I've been whacking off to Lanny Barby porn when I could have been whacking off to the real deal.
We go back to Emily's place by V-line train and she is starting to look increasingly out of it. There's a lot of people at her place. Mostly people of both sexes that look a little Porn Starry. Emily says that she fell into the wrong crowd and only did a few movies under the pseudonym 'Sinclair.' In the dream I make a mental note to google search 'Sinclair' when I get home. Emily and her friends are drinking and chatting and for some reason she's adamant that I check out her films that she just happens to have on hand.
I'm feeling a little awkward about watching this stuff with her in the room. She's seems kinda sick of it all and beaten down and for some reason I give her a kiss on the mouth but she pulls away and says, "You shouldn't kiss your friends on the mouth."
The porn of her is great incidentally. It's a lot of group stuff with her and other girls in tropical cave environments, some blowjob sequences and a gang bang in a farm paddock that's barbwire fenced in. It's all very surreal.
Eventually, my pals and I leave on the same train we came in on. I'm really shocked that this is how Emily turned out and find out that she's had some kids as well during her porn career. On top of all of this, she still wouldn't date me. So this part is very true to life.
The train is moving through different terrains, almost Amazonian Rainforest type areas. As it turns out, one of Emily's porn star friends is a nutcase and stowed away on our train with a machete. It's the Scary Spice/Alfre Woodard friend. The remainder of the dream is spent with me and my pals trying not to get chopped up on a train.
next episode: Running into Richard Chan from Primary School on the train after a pint. "Do something with yourself." "See you around." "Don't hold your fucking breath." Matanas Family Reunion: Bill has no moustache and drives a truck full of pebbles to Bayswater. His wife runs a flower shop where Explorer Video used to be. I want to fuck Kelly who works at the Burwood Branch of The Commonwealth Bank.
Dec. 15th, 2006 @ 04:19 pm
In this week's episode of Fanny & Puss, Fanny writes a letter to his estranged obese father who share houses in the North Pole with midget vulcans and reindeer...
Dear Sanny Claus,
I went to Sexpo today and I found that there was very little sex to be had. I find this to be false advertising. I didn't even get a boner! Not even a little bit of Pre. It's a sham! I paid $25 to go to a place where the chicks all thought they were hot and a bunch of cunts were trying to sell me shit I didn't want. I paid $25 bucks to go to Chapel Street.
Anyways, during the 2 dollar peeps, it occurred to me that I am lonely. So for this Christmas, I'd like a funny girl with the boobies who is infatuated with me to the point where she's all like "If you leave me, I'll fucken Kill ya" and I'll be like , "Sure hon" and it won't matter because she's so boobies and funny, I don't want to leave.
She'll ask me questions like, "So Doovies, what are you doing with your life?" and I'll be all "I'm going to waste away in retail for a few more years and live with my family." And she'll be all, "Cool. Let's have the oral sex now please and after that we'll eat hamburgers."
So, yeah Sanny, I know, I killed that kid that one time, but let's put that behind us and can I please have a nice girl with the boobies and the funnies and the infatuation.
Cheers.
By the way, the cookies and the milk are in the basement this year, instead of in the attic where you had that trouble with the spiders and the like.
We don't even have an attic!
Love, Executive Producer Doovies-Davies.
ALOL
next episode:When she was drumming she was hot. Outside the drumkit, she was not. The Fauves in Night Of The Double Ten Year Old Amp Explosion. Even though Texas Chainsaw Massacre's 'Beginning' is better than its 'Ending', It's still taken them two films and a few millions to make one thirty year old movie that cost some old bones and some fat sweat AND still kicks both their arses. I am in love with Diora Baird though. I saw The Descent for free but I had a few problems like, WHY WOULD YOU GO IN A HOLE? and WHY WOULD YOU GO IN A HOLE? In my mind the movie is really called The Ripleys Versus The Family of Gollums or Home Invasion. Those bitches went into their HOUSE and killed a child mole man and drowned its Mum in their own swimming pool. Cunts.
Nov. 24th, 2006 @ 05:56 pm
It is a dirty hearth From which you can give birth
It's Pinky It's Pinky and the Ane, Ane, Ane, Ane, Ane.
next episode: Am I as close as I think I am to being the next singer for a Triple J Unearthed Band? Probably not you fag, but hey, it's nice to pretend.
Nov. 8th, 2006 @ 11:36 pm
The Theremin is my favourite instrument. My second favourite is the Clitty Fiddle, but it is of no musical relevance.
Perhaps I've been talking too seriously about musics and the like on this here journal. Maybe it's time to go back to basics. As a refresher course in Doovies for those who came in late, here is a series of unrelated strains of vulgarity and inconsequence that I feel it necessary for y'all to know about me.
1) People look at me funny on the train. I don't know if it's because my cock is hanging out of my pant and dripping, or if it's because my cock is hanging out of my pant and dripping on the MET inspector I beat and raped two stops earlier.
2) I own Christopher Walken Fridge Magnets. I take much glee in flinging handfuls of them at my fridge. I laugh insanely while I do it.
3) A friend of mine once fucked a girl called 'Cunty' in an outdoor dunny. It started so innocently with Butterfly Kisses. I chuckle to myself when I think the phrase, "Fucked Cunty in the dunny." He's lived such a full life.
4) I've pood in a Hungry Jacks bag on the way home from 7-11.
5) I'd go gay for The Drones. There's not many bands that I can say that about. If the opportunity were ever to arise, I'd grit my teeth and do it if only in the vain hope that some of their genius would rub off on my arsehole.
6) Last night I danced and played a ukelele while wearing a mask identical to the face of Eric Stoltz's character in the film 'Mask.' Meanwhile, Dad pissed in his own bin.
7) Arguably one of the most frightening characters I've ever met, said this to me just yesterday:
'The voices said they won't let me have me. You reckon? If they won't let me have me, I won't let them have them.'
8) I am seeing Dr. Hook live in concert on November 23rd and I don't care who knows it.
8.5) As soon as I got home from work, I helped Fuff with his new record player, super-glued both a ceramic duck and a John Wayne head back in their rightful places and listened to The Jimmy Shand Band and Johnny Cash on vinyl while eating a roast. The potatoes were especially delicious.
9) In the past month, I have spent roughly $600 on pornography because I can, but also because I'm too fat to catch people to fuck. See also: Latent Drone Homosexuality.
10) If not for the invention of the infranets, I would have had sex only once in the last five years with a regular person I met in actual reality. Replace the term 'regular person I met in actual reality' with 'Asian prostitute named Kristy who was a little too keen to shove fingers up my arse.' What can I say? She rolls with the punches.
11) If you're still reading this. Let's just do it right now.
12) If I don't see Bert's Family Feud soon, I'm probably going to die of sadness.
John Michael Hausen's Quote of the Week: 'You wouldn't see that on the Mike Walsh Show.'
Nov. 5th, 2006 @ 09:18 pm
I find the spectacle of other people kissing to be disgusting! Unless it's in porn in which case I find it refreshing!
The Great Ian Rilen died on Monday Morning (October 30th) at 10.10am.
Ian Rilen 1947-2006 (the original version of this photo can be found on Ian's myspace comments)
I didn't find out until I read it in Inpress on Wednesday night at The Corner while I was waiting 45 minutes for my Chicken Parma. What sucks is that nobody I know really gives a shit. I think it's really sad and a massive loss.
Ian Rilen had a stage presence that I can't quite put into words. The first time I ever saw him at The Tote, I just remember being blown away by him. You don't come across this kind of performer very often. I almost regret not being substantially older than I am so that I could have seen him in his heyday. Heyday or no, he never lost it.
I'm just grateful I got to see him as many times as I did (although I would have preferred more). In particular, I'm really lucky that I got let into the Corner towards the end of the Cosmic Psychos Benefit gig just in time to see Ian Rilen and The Love Addicts play the last set of the evening. The gig had a larger than life feel to it. It felt to me like everybody in the room were well aware that this could be the last time any of us would see him play. It was an awesome performance but it also had a spooky vibe because of this. People were taking photos and video footage and Rilen and Kim Volkman played up to it.
Little did I know this would actually be the last time I'd see them live. After that, I'm not sure how many gigs they did. Maybe some more at the Greyhound or interstate but certainly it couldn't have been too many because by the time of the Benefit Gigs at The Prince a few weeks ago, Rilen was already too sick to turn up. During last week's Spencer P Jones gig, at one point, Spencer asked the crowd "Does anyone know how Ian's doing? I haven't checked in yet." There was no response that I could hear and then Spencer played a song that he dedicated to him. These were all clues that things might not be going so well and sure enough, they didn't.
On Sunday night, I saw SNOWMAN at The East Brunswick Hotel. After a slew of disappointing gigs from bands I liked but hadn't seen live before, finally something that cut the mustard. And the cheese.
I felt like I was in a David Lynch movie where the son of Bruce Lee and Monkey Magic was peforming in a band that had been fucked by the ghosts of Ennio Morricone (ofcourse, he's not actually dead yet - Ed.), Ian Curtis and Screamin' Jay Hawkins. Easily one of the best live bands I've seen my whole life. I had chills and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for most of the gig.
Thanks Snowman!
next episode:No really! The Fauves replied to me in an e-mail!
Nov. 3rd, 2006 @ 12:48 pm
When you see me on the street You know I am not approachable.
I've had adventures many and varied over the last few weeks and months. I saw The Notorious Bettie Page on the big screen at ACMI. I only wish I could remember Jared Harris' limerick from the movie to share with the peoples. Alas, I'm too lazy to even google it.
Diagram Gretchen.72: I don't even got a caption.
On Sunday, after a pint of Mountain Goat, A Turkish Delight Vodka, Jager on the rocks and a shot of tequila for the road, I ate a sausage roll and an egg and mayo sandwich and went to The Tote. Little did I know my night had already peaked earlier at the 7/11 when I bought two Simpsons Gatcha Capsules out of the vending machine.
Spencer P Jones and his short-staffed Escape Committee saved the night from complete shambolics. Next time I run into him in the street with his child (we're up to sighting number three now), I'm going to seriously consider personally thanking him for that for about five seconds atleast before I say nothing, avoid eye contact and go about my day. Another day in a life frought with regret.
next episode:Dear The Fauves Myspace Letters Correspondence.
Oct. 26th, 2006 @ 04:25 pm
I'm your go-to guy for successful relationship aftermath
I've never been to a gig where I wasn't sure if I was hearing a band play or one hundred fragments of fucked conversation. Never before, has the chatter overwhelmed the noise of the band while actually performing.
Not until now.
I like The Sand Pebbles, don't get me wrong, but I swear I was one of about five people who actually paid to get into The Spanish Club tonight. Everybody else there must've been pals or football mates because they acted like they were at a private party and their friend's band just happened to be playing in the background.
The Sand Pebbles are the epitomy of a band made up of people who know people. Enough so that they can get a band together and get somewhere because they already have contacts. They are a band that doesn't look like a band. Not in a cohesive way where they're working together like a finely tuned cog but more like five separate people who happen to be playing on the stage at once.
It's like a game of spot the ex-footballer or Paul Hester look-a-like mixed in with generic dood, underage man and head-noddingly retarded drummer. At one point they said Dave Graney helped them with the lyrics for the song they played. He should have helped them with guitar-playing and performance skills 101. Pink Cowboy Hatted Hand Clapper Man known for his wallpaper-like qualities and engaging between song banter should not ever be allowed to speak out loud into a microphone.
There's nothing worse than a band that is into their music more than the audience. Self-indulgence + 1.
Then I spotted the man in the Ian Rilen Benefit T-shirt. This is the sign of a gig that was good on paper but wrong in actualisation. Much like the shambles that was the Ian Rilen Benefit Part Two, Sand Pebbles was also a non-event. So we can decide from this that, the appearance of an Ian Rilen T-shirt at a gig is an omen. Hell, there was a whole merchandise area of Rilen T-shirts at his Benefit and that was anti-climax town. I can't believe Hoodoo Gurus played before The Spazzys. The great Ian Rilen didn't play at all which was a shame but understandable. Rose Tattoo appeared only to prove why Angry Anderson is a Rock 'n' Roll Midday Guest rather than an outlaw and why they sucked without Rilen. New material at a Tribute gig indeed!
It is my hypothesis that The Spanish Club is the worst venue in town. Technically, it's not. It's a good venue aesethically. However, I can blame The Spanish Club for a series of catastrophes.
1. The Only Drones Gig That Kinda Sucked 2. The Only Time I've ever wanted Even to stop playing so I could go home. 3. The wasted time of Lloyd Kaufman
And now The Sand Pebbles, who I've previously loved, SUCKING MEMBERS COVERED IN CAT-AIDS with a stellar audience of motherfucks who should have been burnt and raped and shot out into space where they can finish their conversations in their own time.
I need to wash the bad taste of this gig out of my mouth. A Hungry Jacks Thickshake, while delicious, just didn't do the trick.
Oct. 8th, 2006 @ 02:54 am
CHRISTOPHER WALKEN VS INDIANA JONES' SECOND COUSIN (TWICE REMOVED).
These photos have not been altered in any way, shape or form. That is a Christopher Walken mask that was made by the staff here at Doovies Enterprises for a party, when the Leatherface costume idea fell through due to time restraints caused by retardeds and my own inevitable laziness.
next episode: The music hurts my brain at Kittens but I did see a lady in a cowdy hat and a blonde Tamsin Sursok clone being sugardaddied by Ric Flair. Oh, and a dildo show with candles and lollypops and schoolgirls and the like. Nobody cheered.
Oct. 6th, 2006 @ 02:47 am
BABY, I'M NO GOOD FOR YOU. THIS OLD BOY'S DONE FEELING BLUE. YOU'RE JUST WAY TOO HIGH TO CLIMB. WHEN ALL YOU DO IS WASTE MY TIME.
Tonight, after a belly dancing extravaganza at a housewarming of lovely pals, Doovies Beerfest 2006 took place at everybody's favourite shindig, The Corner Hotel.
The DJ looked like a low-rent Famke Jannsen.
During an extended game of bouncing twenty cent coins into empty beer glasses, we were approached by what I can only describe as two of the hottest lipstick lesbians I've ever been exposed to in my life.
They played the coinflick with us and when I finally got one in, I was urged by all and sundry to skull a pint of Mountain Goat. Which I did. Then I had to visit the toilet store almost immediately to get rid of everything I'd already drunk that night, a pow wow pizza, some fish skeletons and quite possibly portions of my lower intestine.
When I returned from the homo rainbow I'd painted in the komode, they had gone. Only to return minutes later to drag myself and the Z-man Cometh onto the Corner "dance floor." I use quotation marks because it's not so much a dance floor as a space of carpet in front of the dj booth where pissed cunts drunkenly out-pose each other.
In life, I dance everywhere except where I should. I certainly don't dance at the Corner but this time I was forced into it.
She twirled me around many a time and manipulated me into all kinds of moves I awkwardly went along with. She made me kiss her hand. I was certainly the bitch.
Penis really is the New Vagina.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a halfie. It was kinda nice. I've never danced with a hot lesbian stranger before. I've never actually danced with a random girl at the Corner or anywhere ever.
I looked over at Zee and he was busting a move with the brunette of the duo. I had landed the blonde vixen (who's name was Jessica incidentally). It all felt like it was out of a movie. Ofcourse my mind is racing and I'm already looking for things like facial deformities, inbetween being extremely self-conscious, and wondering how I'm going to get home if things get interesting because I only have twenty bucks.
For five minutes, the night was rich with possibilities and here I was, thinking I'd peaked when I skulled a beer during the coin bounce challenge or even earlier than that, when I talked absolutely filthily to my friend Gaby at the housewarming.
Maybe they were lipstick lesbians, or maybe they were drunk friends who like to kiss on the lips every eight seconds. Maybe I screwed the pooch by not chasing things up.
Maybe it just was, what it was. I'm happy with that.
Ofcourse, the night was bookended by Tenacious D car sing-a-longs.
next episode: Dagmarian Reunion and the Lucky Cockhead's 'private function' for sirs. Ola is to Thora Birch as DJ is to Famke Janssen. Chicken Connisseurs and The Food VS Fuck Debate. I'll shit blood in your mouth if you make me come with a brick - Peter Luck & The Summer Replacements.
Oct. 1st, 2006 @ 03:30 am
Tonight I went to the Royal Melbourne Show after work. I loaded up on six bags of Bertie Beetles, Bratwurst sausages, A Taste of Spain, Delicious Pretzels and a James Squires Golden Ale.
(It's important to note for alien readers that a Bertie Beetle is a chocolate treat in the shape of a Beetle Man with a bonnet and goggles. He used to be available everywhere but is now exclusively available in Showbags at The Show. You might need to find out what the fuck 'The Show' is and also what Show Bags are. Fucken Google it. Who do I look like? Your Dad? - Ed.)
It was delightful. The Show is heaps gooder at night. Magical even.
I went there to see The Drones and Black Cab. Kamikaze Trio were playing too but we missed them. It's probably one of the best gigs I've been to. Certainly the best outside event. Tasty snacks. Nobody there. Lights and fireworks and Carny Folk abound. I wish all bands played at the Showgrounds on a regular basis.
I can't emphasise how much fun it all was. I was pleasantly surprised. I felt like a happy king.
The Drones Showbag may contain the following:
- A pack of marlboro lights. - An inflatable hammer - A bag of speed (sorry Mike Noga's dad.)
The acoustics were magnificient. Like a sonic boom sweeping over our heads. They had a giant video screen that was completely unnecessary given the small crowd but cool nonetheless. It was nice to look up at seagulls overhead or look to your right and see a giant neon covered Ferris Wheel spinning in the night sky. They played louder than the fireworks behind them.
The Drones were in good spirits and there was a surreal quality and an inherent hilarity to the whole scenario of them playing their kind of music and swearing in front of an all ages crowd. Rui Perrera got in trouble with Show Staff for knocking some mike stands over. Have a cry lady.
I wanted to give them a bag of Bertie Beetles.
In other news, I had a real Jones (1and1and1is3) sighting in Williams Street in the city on Tuesday night but I didn't stop to say anything because I felt creepy and weird, probably because I am. It's important to specify between Real and Fake Jones Sightings because I had a Fake Jones Sighting once. Understandable. They say that when you're deeply in love, everybody reminds you of that person.
At the candy bar before seeing Merchant Ivory's new period piece DOA: Dead or Alive with Sir Holly Valance, the Great Hell Business initiated a poetic exchange. He was given a choc top that was clearly opened. There was only one course of action to take with Virginia the asian candy bar clerk.
Hell Business points to open choc top.
Hell Business: Excuse me but has somebody rubbed their cock on that?
Virginia (nervously laughing) : Oh sorry. I'll get you another one.
Hell Business: It's okay if they have. I was just checking. If you wash it off you could still eat it. It'd be one for free. Mr. Village doesn't have to know about it.
If you were to Google Earth me right now, you'd see the top of my head and just a hint of penis jutting out at one side. The left side.
next episode: BEERFEST! The Return of Dagmara and other sordid tales of ne'er-do-wellery
Sep. 28th, 2006 @ 01:29 am
WORDS OF HONESTY OR WORDS OF DISSENT. BOTH EQUALLY INFLUENCE THE DEMISE OF DETERMINATION.
I'll have you know right now Naysayers that I'm a good date. Just ask my Nan. She can hear the aftermath. Her one word summary is 'Ecstasy.' She later backtracks that description by saying she is speaking of a perfume but with a knowing wink to the camera, we both know she's full of shit. You can't get out of this one so easy Joan.
I've never had to choke anyone before but then I've never had someone spit on my cock so much. It's a fair trade. If I make an overzealous mistake, I guess I just head for the hills and change my name to 'Davros.'
It's time for me to reach the inevitable conclusion that to this point only a select few have been privvy to. I'm a sexual dynamo. And it don't matter who or why or how. I'm like a baby genius with a rubix cube. I might have to fiddle with it for a bit to align the colours but in the end I solve the puzzle. If I wasn't such a fat smoker, I'd probably triple my abilities. But if this were Golf, I'd be revered for my success rate with such a large handicap.
Ofcourse, even the wonderment and pizazz of the Doovies cloud has it's silver lining. Clearly, my Nan has good ears for one, and that leads to all kinds of consequential wrongness both morally and socio-economically. For two, I snore like the Abominable Snowman vigorously masturbating with a hook-hand whilst screaming love yells into a megaphone.
This means you have to check your dignity at the door and you gotsta be deaf, in a state of coma or ready to depart immediately sans-After-Glow-Bask as soon as the circus leaves town.
Be that as it may, I'm still a good date.
(We here at Doovies Enterprises would like to add that we can't verify any of his cocky bragging. We're not sure if hookers count as 'Satisfied Customers' and as yet, have found no living woman that can back up these wild claims. Just so you know. - Ed.)
next episode: Fan Letters and Fishing with Dynamite.
Sep. 24th, 2006 @ 02:20 am
I DRESS UP AS A BABY. I GET A BABY HAIRCUT. CUT INTO NEWLY GROWN TUFTS. I WAX MY EYEBROWS AND FACE AND ALL THE OTHER TRIMMINGS. I HAVE A BIB WITH EGGS ON IT. I GOTS A RATTLE. I GET PUSHED AROUND IN A SHOPPING TROLLEY. I WEAR AN ADULT DIAPER. I SHIT MYSELF AND NEED TO BE CHANGED. I DO A TALCUM POWDER SPRAY FART. I PISS IN A LONG HIGH STREAM INTO A FACE. WAAAH. FUCKEN. WAAAH.
FOR THOSE WHO CAME IN LATE...
Melbourne Residents may view a very special television appearance of Doovies being interviewed on the mean streets of Chapel. All you require is a television that gets Channel 31 and to be watching said channel at 11 pm Monday 18th September (this monday). The program is called Dave Harding P.I. If you click on that and look closely at this week's episode synopsis, they mention what I talked about with "Urinating in the bath (Sharon Stone Inspired)." Here's hoping it's not shit. If anybody manages to tape it, I'd love a copy. I can't get Channel 31.
next episode: Snoring on Trams Discovered By Shelly The Frankstonian Go-Carter. Waking up on trains with your fly undone like a derelict rapist who's victim only escaped due to narcolepsy.
Sep. 15th, 2006 @ 02:05 pm
Slightly Moving Picture 57.2: Soundtrack to Doovies Montage Sequence
next episode: Satchmo! The Friendly Doggie. Satchmo! I don't mean Froggies. Fough Doughzen Doughnets later and I still can't spell Donuts. The British Neighbour's Tits. The Bendogian's Duck. Shhh. Don't Tell Anybody. Hurry Up It. You don't. You don't have it. You're not poodles!
Sep. 1st, 2006 @ 03:45 am
I can't seem to write a cohesive sentence for very long before I want to violently smash my knuckles over the keyboard and kick the monitor in. I almost backhanded everything off the kitchen coffee table because Shannon was chewing his Chocolate Bunny too loudly.
I'd like to see her wear a baseball bat.
The second Buzz Playstation 2 Quiz Game has just come out which irks me a little. A small symptom of a larger problem. Atleast, I finally worked through my Putting All The Products Back On The Shelf Tanty that I have been having at Toys R Us of late. I mean, I still did it once today but then I came back and bought A Maestro Hulk Figure for Tyrannosaurus Porno Beers Hell Business.
The latest episode of Sopranos that includes Ben Kingsley and Lauren Bacall as themselves was absolute gold. FUUUUCK.
Tonight I shall see Lano & Woodley's Goodbye Show and possibly Sam Simmond's 'Tales of the Erotic Cat' for the second time. Chutney!
I want to go up to Rich Hall after Levelland has just finished and ask, "So does he have fucking powers or not?" That'd piss me off if I were him.
I flirt with the idea of putting on an accent and pretending to be an international stand-up called Dashiel O'Dannell and hang out at the Festival Club with Fancy Pants McAllister and Mr. Nice. There's so many comedians about, it's not out of the question that I'm not one with a show you haven't heard of. Add a teaspoon of Danny Bhoy accent and I'm in.
I'm already getting looks as it is. Probably because they think Demetri Martin's grown a lovely beard and put on 50 kilos. (Or because you look like a rapist - Ed.)
Tomorrow I am going to my cousin's birthday party. I am going to get him a Bunsen Burner made entirely of boiled lolly. I hope I don't become Jail Time Jack. That would make me Biscuit-sad even if I made some Circle Friends. We could play Rainbow Tits. Beeeeejoooooo.
Scary Movie 4 stole my Rumpleforeskin Gag but that's ok. They didn't realise. I better get working on 'John Ritter the Musical' before it's too late though.
I have proposed marriage to a Pizza Shop. I have to commit to that to reach my goal weight of DEAD BY 30.
who can explain all these thoughts racking my mind an endless barrage of shit racking my mind
Baby what have I done gone and left you, all alone it's hard for me to sing this song we've been together for so long
I think I know what my soul's got to say and it wont hurt as bad, someday
It's gonna be alright, baby it's gonna be alright, love and if the mist ever let's the sun through I'll just hope I did the right thing for me and you
Guess I'm ruled by my heart built a life and I tore it all apart It's just not our time but you'll find a new love, and you'll be fine
So many dark and lonely nights but I believe someday I'll see the light
It's gonna be alright, baby It's gonna be alright , love and if the mist ever let's the sun through I'll just hope I did the right thing for me and you
I can not reveal the words of the golden eel.
next episode:A return to your regularly scheduled programming.
Apr. 27th, 2006 @ 03:35 am
From : Lauren Phillips <***********@hotmail.com> Sent : Thursday, 13 April 2006 2:21:36 PM To : doovies@hotmail.com
| | | Inbox
Woke up this morning and it seemed to me, that every night turns out to be A little bit more like Doovies And yeah, I know he's a pretty good read But God who'd wanna be, God who'd wanna be such an asshole? God who'd wanna be, God who'd wanna be such an asshole?
Well we sat on the edge of the river, the crowd screamed, "Sacrifice the liver!" If God takes life, he's an Indian giver So tell me now why, you'll tell me never Who would wanna be, Who would wanna be such a control freak? Well who would wanna be, Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Well see what you wanna see You should see it all You took what you wanted from me You deserve it all Nine times out of ten our hearts just get dissolved Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall
But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall
Here we go.....
If God controls the land and disease, keeps a watchful eye on me, If he's really so damn mighty, my problem is I can't see, well who would wanna be, Who would wanna be such a control freak? Well who would wanna be, Who would wanna be such a control freak?
Evil home stereo what good songs do you know?
Evil me? Oh yeah, I know What good curves can you throw?
Well all that icing and all that cake, I can't make it to your wedding, but I'm sure I'll be at your wake You were talk, talk, talk, talkin' in circles that day, when you get to the point make sure that I'm still awake, OK?
Went to bed and didn't see why every day turns out to be a little bit more like Doovies And yeah, I know he's a pretty good read But God who'd wanna be, God who'd wanna be such an asshole?
THE END.
***
Like my dad always says, "Fuck the pain away." Oh wait, that's Peaches. My Dad says, "Would you like another bacon sandwich?" Yes I would Dad, yes I would.
I shall lay on my stomach with gritted teeth and a tear to the eye as I reminisce my almost three years of infected bliss with my first born child. I cover his ears when I speak of the operation. I cover his eyes as I type this. Luckily, we'll be both be anaesthetised when the guillotine of the surgeon's lazer hand rips into my back flesh like a fat man's tongue into a vat of self-saucing pudding.
Bellamy first reared his bulbous, bleeding head on my birthday in 2003. I thought myself blessed to have received such a gift. The gift of weekly bleedings and many a stained underpant. Oh the messes I've left in car seats when he has gotten a little rambunctious and bled through three layers of fabric onto the seat cover. Oh the times I've had to excuse myself to wipe dark red blood and pus from my sculpted Crack 'O' Ass with reams and reams of toilet paper.
Although, my one last attempted sodomy from a Public Health System that has repeatedly failed me is doomed to rob me of seeing The Darkness this Friday and potentially $200 worth of already paid for Comedy Festival Shows, I take solace in the fact that my child will finally be free to venture out into the cold, harsh world by his lonesome. The day that I waited in admissions, all systems go for eight long hours without anybody saying anything to me about my operation being cancelled once again, I managed to read the Spider-man/Human Torch digest inbetween bouts of falling asleep. When this happens again this week, I hope to have read a further portion of Comic-y goodness. Perhaps one day, they will book me in on a Thursday at the exact same time when Dr. Frydenberg is actually rostered on or not too busy or not away or not forcibly penetrating a delicate jar marked 'AIDS BLOOD.'
Your administration may be shit, Dawn Batson but by crikey I hope I wake up with my genitals, arms, legs and other faculties I have so far taken for granted. For while I may not have much power against the Man, I swear I will bloodshit in every ward of every wing in Box Hill Hospital if they fuck this up. There I was born, so too shall Bellamy die.
In the meantime, WATCH THE BEST MOTHERFUCKING THING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE DAMN LIFE! NO FOOLIN'
Some back-up information that you might like to read can be found here...
next episode:When Faggit McDicklick McShitbeard McChapelStreetBazaar McCunt awkwardly "helps" you fumble the latest issue of juxtawanker into a paper bag and then proclaims, "I've been in retail 20 years, how long have you been doing this for?" you don't reply with a joking, "Haha 'Bout 20 seconds", you say I'VE HAD A CERTIFICATE IV IN PAPER BAG HANDLING LONG BEFORE YOU LICKED YOUR FIRST TAINT YOU FECUND COCKLAPPIN' CUNTHEEL OF AN INSULT TO HOMOSEXUALITY. WHO THE FUCK BRAGS ABOUT BEING IN RETAIL FOR 20 YEARS? OH WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT YOU SNOBFUCKED, LOUSY-VIBED, FAGGIER-THAN-THOU, ALL-THE-PERSONALITY-OF-A-CHILD-RAPIST-WHO-SHITS-HIMSELF-AND-EATS-IT-HOURLY-MOTHERFUCKO. I mean, really. We ain't pals. Take your over-familiar slights where you have "friends" and spend real money.
Apr. 3rd, 2006 @ 01:34 am
next episode: Jeff Townes is a forty-plus year old mongoloid who likes to type out the captions from the porno mags and draw pictures of the fuckings. He makes nice films with lovely narration. His wheel-chair bound mother is atleast 98. He's Tromastic.
Masturape is the act of jerking off to someone who doesn't realise you are watching them and whacking it.
Feb. 12th, 2006 @ 11:17 pm
1. A verbose floozy spouting out words of folly and whimsy inbetween violently sequestering his serpentine todger amongst the handicapped and deliciously special, fresh from the trenches of local support services
2. A compulsive liar, full to overflowing of the seed of low-level braggarts, saucy chieftains, Abominable Dr. Phibes Impersonators and the like.
3. Sometimes eats a biscuit.
4. That last one, like, doesn't even make any sense.
5. Creator of blogs with little or no redeeming social value, light on entertainment and devoid of continuity or structure. (In which case they should re-name 'Livejournal' to 'Doovies.' - Ed.)
When LJ-posting, Doovies stays at Hotel De Lauren. His clothes are provided by Shops. With his head hung low, drooling onto himself, biting his own tongue and falling in and out of consciousness at the puter, Doovies prefers 3.34 AM, give or take an hour.
Special Thanks to:
oh_sweetnothing - For allowing Doovies-Davies occupation of her virgin territories. goatsupreme - For The Care Package of Takei-astic Glory. zephyrcow - For doovies latest home (SCROLL DOWN) on her testimonial page 'n' shit. The creepy inhabitants of South Yarra - For The weirdo in the opposite apartment block who may or may not be committing suicide but fuck it, if the cunt isn't keeping me up and freaking me out, A LITTLE BIT. Bert Newton - Just Because.
I Joaquined a man in Phoenix, just to hear my pun.
Feb. 9th, 2006 @ 02:43 am
PRICE PRINTED ON THE WHOOPEE CUSHION PACKET MAY REDUCE INFLATION
For Those Who Came In Late....
4000 minutes ago, Doovies of the BangLala Pigmy Tribe in Howard Era Australasia chose also to never say sorry. In time, he returned to his homeland, to continute to fight for filth, injustice and the infusion of Phantom Comics Introductions into lame failed relationship gags...the pigmy muthafuckas always believing Doovies to be the same man!
Well, he can't drive, or clean his teeth that good, barely wipes his brown But Wifey showed him how to!
And he can't clean or mop the floor like you, or even buy a ring But Wifey showed him how to!
The Wifey People helping Doovies The Wifey People helping Doovies The Wifey People helping Doovies achieve.
--
New Establishments that will be open by the year 2046
Hand ShandiesWhere You Pull Your Own Beer. Are we ready for a self-serve beer system? Probably not. How would you police such a thing? If people pay after they're pissed it could work. That's usually when people are at their most honest and generous. It's also when people are at their most domestic violence or ready to be spread. There may need to be a sister store next door called 'The Beater's Orgy.'
--
The dog left a pig's ear on my bed once. It was like I'd been sent a message from Don Corleone but on a budget.
You laugh now Mr. Ilievski but let's see how funny you are, after you face the pirahnas.
Jan. 30th, 2006 @ 12:18 am
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doovies_redux's journal
I will kiss you in one places.
Needs a new starter motor.
Cheezy George And Wheezy
Jonestown Massacred
Black Woman Eating Icecream
Sexually Humiliated
