the shit bits

Hi gang! Im back with an all new exciting edition featuring plenty of shit, and poo humor. Ive been slack with the blog thing but for obvious reason, the only interesting thing Ive got to say is about Kevins shit. And there is plenty of it, trust me. I spose ill tell you about the most recent deposit. A mere 15 minutes ago I was in the shower, Kevins most beloved pongo dish that he favors shitting in if he cant get to the treadmill. He shits in the shower most days and I usually pretend I havent seen it until Jasmine cleans it. Im sure she does the same to me. Anyways, I had just cleaned a chalky egg surprise and decided to shower not noticing another egg awaits me in the plug hole. It didnt bother me at first but after a while its hard to ignore. I wasnt going to jump out and grab something to poke it down or scoop it out so I thought maybe I could use my big toe. Fucking bad move. I figured I could just wash my toe afterwards and it would be a done deal. No more showering over a cat shit and one clean big toe. So, I gave it a poke with the toe and because it had hot water running over it, the consistency was more like a fucking melted ferrero rocher and I began to dry reach instantly. Bad times. The shit stayed still and my one big toe feels like it will never get clean. I swear the toe has nerve endings or taste buds or something because Im walking around treating it like a red headed step child, like I dont want to be near it.

I just got back from a long weekend of recording with Smurfinger. We did it at the south Muckleford hall. Its a pretty awesome place, an old school from 1850s to 1930s and has pictures of dudes that whent to the school and died in the great war. I struggled to find the greatness in the war but fond the stories in the old roll call book really interesting. It was the stories of the guys in the photos, most born around Muckleford and going to school there untill they enlisted in the army at mostly around age 19 and died aged 22. It said where they fought and got shot. And other patriotic jargon about serving the empire. Weird really. 

The recording is shaping up well so keep your eyes on the myspace for the new tunes.

We stayed out there for 4 days, sleeping in the hall and eating the same pot of vegan stew that Tom cooked up. The problem with being out of town is the toilets. The flusher wasnt working and both the shitters had unflushed shit in them. After a big spliff and a stomach full of stew, I needed to go do number two. Not to keen on shitting on other peoples shit I had no choice but to do it bush style. Which was right next to the cricket oval. I dont know why Im telling you this because its rather personal and disgusting. But it was awkward, and thats why Im telling you. Its one thing to piss on a tree but if you have ever tried to take a dump, while stoned, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere and hearing horses stomp and nay or whatever fucking noise they make. Its scary. Especially when you have a turd on deck that would out weigh a bag of oranges and squatting it out, trying not to shit on your feet.

Things that are shitting me as of late: (no pun intended)

Squatting in the bush

Racist australian news

Rove McManus

Footballers that make the news headlines over 700 dead in Chile 

So you think you can dance. Id like to see those guys in a knife fight with My kitchen rules.

Im sure alot more things shit me but my dinner is ready.

Cock, muff, bumhole.

Its all in the turkey

Im not sure where to start because my last blog was over a month ago, let me think. hhmmm, just before Christmas Jasmine and I ran around like fools because we hosted Christmas, both sides of the family. It was a success. Turkey and chicken and all sorts. Oh that reminds me, as I was at the servo pumping the tyre on Sauls new bike (of which he wasnt to fussed) around 10am, Jasmine rang me screaming like she was possessed "theirs a fucking cock inside the turkey and I just threw up in the sink!!!" "what do you mean by cock in the turkey?" "I put my hands inside to stuff the turkey and felts something hard, pulled it out and it was a dick!"

I wasnt sure what to think of all this screaming, dick and turkey talk, so I headed home to find out what it was about. I thought maybe some one at the turkey factory had a few drinky poos at the work Christmas party and decided to give it the old one, two. And somehow in the process it got cut off and ended up on my very table, inside the big bird. Turns out it was just its own neck and its quite standard practice.

We went to the Why? gig and it was absolutely brilliant. I had a realization while I was there that people go to watch the music and maybe have a bit of a dance. But some, only a few, get so consumed and think they are at a karaoke bar and yell all the words as loud as possible. This makes an uncomfortable event for those around them that just want watch, listen and maybe dance. Its shit-house hearing some out of tune fuck wit with his hat on side ways yell the lyrics into the side of your face. To close for comfort. And security guards, fuck, dont get me started on these hunks of hammer that just want to punch peoples face in for looking funny. It was annoying that we found a good spot up the front, security decides to stand right in front of me so I couldn't see and then tell me about his cheap iphone and how he lost his judo match in the olympics. Yes, you are physically elite and could break a broom stick by staring at it but I paid to watch a band, not you.

New years was camping in the Grampians. That was good. Camping is good.

I had a few weeks off work which gave me time to gather my thoughts and watch a slut load of movies. We had a Tarintino marathon, all of them back to back for about 4 days. Its was good but by the end I was ready to slice some shit up with swords and scream motherfucker alot.

My time to think made me set some new years goals that Im already not sticking to that well. Things like drumming, cleaning, fuck I cant even remember them. Fuck it. So much for that.

But I have decided next year Im going to school, either to do percussion or film making. 

I spent my first few days back at work grinding my teeth and figuring out how Im going to tell the boss, because I think, she thinks I will stay forever and one day take over the place. But turns out that wasnt the plan. So I keep hump dancing every time she turns her back and pushing the boundaries of what I can do while she is looking the other way.

The film making plan is relatively new but I can see myself sticking with it. After watching a few Australian short masterpieces that really touched me, I think its my calling. Here is a little piece that raises some very important issues in todays society. Its heart wrenching to say the least and touches on things like lust, love, desire and action. The constant struggle to please those in power. To rise up and say this just isnt good enough to a man, who is reluctant to give up his cultural icon to a lesser equal. A classic sing for your supper story with a moving sound track. I really feel this. 

things that are shitting me as of late:

Crazy people

Bin bags

Socks with holes

Lack of funds to keep my drinking and eating habit at an unhealthy but steady rate

Not being able to laze around for days on end and not actually achieve anything. Like getting stoned, putting on some tunes and laying there until my hunger has gotten the better of me. That was pretty well my youth summed up in 2 sentences.

Basic modern personal maintenance, like shaving, brushing teeth, cutting toe nails and pissing in the toilet. I always opt for the lemon tree but showering and wiping my ass are essential and those I couldnt live without.

People who think they have the answers to your life

Until next time. Keep your eyes to the sky.

where the poo things are

Well shit, where do I start? maybe where the poo things are? They are across my backyard thats where they are. 

It started when the drain in the backyard decided to work the opposite way of its sole purpose. So we rang the emergency numbers for the real estate. To no avail. Thanks a fucking lot. My back yard was stinking of shit and we had to deal with it. So first thing in the morning I rang them and the lady had this attitude like "just pull the spaghetti out of the plug-hole" until I said "theirs poo all over my backyard" and she quickly changed her tone, and all was fixed by the time I got home from work.

The night of the poo was when we saw Where the wild things are. Its brilliant but very sad. A little to sad. Did you know Spike Jonze is co-owner of girl skateboards? did you know Spike Jonze was dating Karen-o? Did you know Spike Jonze is creative director vbs.tv? Did you know Spike Jonze is pretty bloody awesome? Well, you should. What a man.

I've discovered a few things about myself recently. One is that I'm pretty fucking good at lawn bowls. Almost too good. It shocked me. It was Jasmine's long for it xmas party and we all got pretty drunk and bowled like the oldest people alive. TAB times and a chicken parma you could eat with no teeth. 

Another thing I've noticed is my habit of mocking people behind their back. And its pretty close to getting me into trouble. Its a new found habit but its pretty awesome, you should give it a try. A few classic examples are pretending beat off when someone turns the other way. I almost got busted the other day, using a knife as a penis and fucking a piece bread with a Clint Eastwood snarl  look on my face, just as the person who was about to eat the bread walked back in. Close call. Lucky.

The wiseflyz gig was dang good. I was planning on wearing one of Jasmine's dresses, but couldn't figure out how or what bits of my body went where. So I wore a fluffy blue vest instead. Looked a million bucks I did. We played well and Stingray sung and danced better than Mickey Jackson.

I need/ want new vacuum cleaner. One that could suck a cock off a horse. One that could pull the skin on a Pug so tight it would look like a Chihuahua, or a bald rat. One that will clean up Kevin shit and then cleans itself. For fuck sake Kevin, your a domestic animal, and by domestic I mean you have been selectively bred over thousands of years alongside humans and you still cant shit in your designated shitting area. What is it behind your little cat face that makes you want to shit on things like a treadmill? Yes, a fucking treadmill and a cat, you wouldn't think of all places he would shit there. Maybe one day you saw me watching this and thought in your cat head, I reckon thats a good place to shit, right where those idiot humans walk. Or maybe, after talking to the cat at the door, the one that actually pissed on the front door, you made a bet with him who could annoy your human masters the most. Well you and you cat friend have done quite a good job. Thanks. Or maybe you where just doing your daily cat thing, drink from the water bowl, eat some expensive cat food, lick your paws and face, roll around a little.....then you spot the treadmill.  You think to yourself, what is that? can I shit on it? then you look at it with a Clint Eastwood snarl but a cat version and think you know what? fuck it. I am going to shit on that thing, a few times. Thanks a lot Kev.

We also got a sweet couch, I will put some pics up when I can be screwed.

Things that are shitting me as of late:

Kevin shitting.

Shit in the backyard.

Poo.

Borry.

Turd.

All things poo related. 

Lack of time to achieve the thousands of goals I set.

Anyways, keep it in the toilet. And dont forget to wipe.

It`s wet as

First of all, the Latin festival.

Saturday was shaping up to be a good one. Latin festival on Johnston St. was on. Time to eat some delicious food and get our drink on with some amigos above the T-shirt takeaway. Its was all good. The food was fucking bueno. A bit later in the day it started to rain, which wasnt that bad because it was still kind of hot, and it didnt really matter if you got a little wet.
Afterwards Jasmine and I thought we would go to a party not far from home. We got a taxi home, and I was up for a bit of small talk with the driver. The problem was, I have this unintentional habit of trying to get on the same level as who I'm talking to. For example; if I talk to a truck driver I'm all "g`day mate, hows the fucking weather for ya? alright if your a fucking duck!" and if I go to the chemist or something I'm a bit "oh, excuse me miss, could I trouble you for some of your most delightful haemorrhoid cream?" and my tone of voice changes dramatically. So in a taxi I tend to change my accent to the drivers and hopefully make them feel a bit more comfortable for a conversation. It kind of worked and we just talked about the best Indian restaurants in Melbourne "I lllike spize vood" sort of thing. Infact I didnt even realise until we jumped out and said "why where you talking like a fuckhead to that guy?"

So we grabbed the bikes and umbrellas and headed for the bottle shop. By this stage it was fucking pissing down and the streets where almost flooding. But because the party and the bottle shop wasnt so far, we thought the bikes and brollies would suffice. And the surely did not. By the time we got to the bottle shop, our clothes looked a little wet. We missed the closing time by about 2 minutes and the rain just got worse and worse. We tried to ride up and down Sydney Rd, to find alcohol but everywhere was shut. By this stage it was established we where wet and should go home. And it was in the way home, after Jasmine screaming at me for riding off to many times, she misjudged the gutter and fell straight in a huge puddle on the road as a car was coming. Its dark, wet and Jasmines ass over in a puddle of water with a car coming towards her. So I jumped in with my shoes on and ripped her out. The water was up to mid shin level and the car just slowed down and went around. We where absolutely fucking drenched and went strait home. I saw the funny side to it all and had a laugh, to which Jasmine responded by punching me in the ribs.

Thing that are shitting me as of late:
frustration
wet shoes
Christmas, already
when Jasmine says she has keys, but doesn't and we get locked out of the house
university students who feel the need to give their moral 2 cents on everything
people who jump the cue at the supermarket
the taste and thought of custard
war crimes
religion
I wasnt sure if I should laugh or cry when I saw this. Its a little weird.


Keep you burritos out of those burros.

ooooh yep

Im back again from the depths of the internetless caves, technology depressant, lack of communication devices, 1940`s lifestyle I have been trialing for a new TV series.
No not really, nothing of the sorts. I have been blogslack and cant be assed telling you about things that dont really matter. But today my good readers I will fill you in on a few things.......

The house is going well.
I just turned 22. It feels fucking great. Alot better than 21, by far. At 21 I felt like I had responsibilities to be a 21 y.o. and start doing great things with myself. But now at 22 I have embraced the failures over the last year and thought, fuck it, to hell with them. I am enjoying being a stubborn and opinionated post 21 y.o.
For my birthday we had a BBQ. Lots of meat, beer and good times. I felt Australian. I drank like it was my birthday and was hardly making sense by the end of the night. God it was awesome. For my 21st I felt like I had to make it a special event that I would remember for the rest of my life. I would look back and think, fuck your awesome Reubin, your 21st was the best fun I had since losing my virginity. But in reality it was just another party. I have embraced the finer things in life, like cooking meat to perfection, like its an art form. And making noises like Im on masterchef, slurrping and yelling fuck this is good! I have become more interested in things like herbs and gardening. I am growing up.
The wisdom of a 22 y.o has made me realise I need a purpose or a hobby. So I have started a course in documentry film making. I am really enjoying it. So far we have watched snippets of films and commented on them, one of my favorite things to do. Ill see how the course goes and then decide what steps to take next. I have always liked documentary and always wondered how they are made, so this was right up my alley. I have watched some fucked up films over the last week, one called War Dance. It was like the real life Blood Diamond. Without the diamond or Leo, just stuff about child soldiers and conflict in Africa. It made me cry. Its a sad state of affairs. Also some good stuff about Lionel Rose. Well to do Aboriginal dude that met Elvis, won a world title, spent his money, robbed a primary school and now spends his time talking to his mum and going the greyhound races. Its a wonderful world.

A few funny things have happened, its not all sad. Like the time Jasmine and I got home late and thought a good nights sleep was on the cards, Kevin (the cat) jumped in the bed and tried to snuggle in. Which he usually does so it didnt bother us. After a moment we could smell a burning or something vulgar. We looked at each other and I thought maybe the kitchen was on fire because it smelt like burning plastic and was getting stronger. I was like, what the fuck I just want to go to sleep. So I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. No fire. Checked around the house. No fire. Looked in the bathroom and Kevin had done the biggest shit possible from a feline of any size, right in the middle of the bath. Thanks Kevin. It was fucking horrendous and smelt like someone had pulled a plastic sixpack ring out of a moulding dolphins stomach and burnt it with a lighter under my nose. Not just that, but Kevin had shit all over his ass and in his dreaded winneps, then tried to snuggle in the bed and got cat shit everywhere between the bath and our pillows. Bad times. As you can imagine we had to clean the place and trim Kevins butt hair. Not the best activity when your sleep deprived.

Oh yes thats right, we went to the roller derby. It was fucking lesbians ahoy! It was good but slightly intimidating because of women that would have punched me fair in the cock if I looked at their girlfriends twice. Good times.

Dr Parnassus was good. Go and see it for yourself.

Things that are annoying me as of late:
Climate change skeptics.
Climate change.
Political jargon that does nothing for the benefit of man kind, or anyone and anything.
Uninteresting people that write books about themselves. Like politicians autobiographies or "I had an experience doing something that most people could do" sort of books. It shits me up the wall.

Peace and fucking.

the bland imaginarium of me

Oh g'day!

Dear Tesltra,
I hate you, and I hate everything you do. I hate the way you make me wait for ages on the phone only to talk to someone who has had their soul destroyed by angry people like me. Ringing Telstra is one of my most dreaded activities of modern common life. They are stooges at the best of times and they ripped me off good. However the people who work for The Commonwealth Bank of Australia are only to helpful. Would you like a credit card? would you like insurance? do you need a new car? Ever thought about buying a house? OK, I have had enough I just want to know how much money is in my old piggy bank? Zilch, thanks for you help.

Nothing to exciting in this weeks post my good friends. WOW! what the fuck! that was very weird. Just as I was typing that, I heard someone walking around at work, I looked up from the computer and there was a lady. She looked at me and started walking away and just kind of waved to say 'don't worry about it' and walked off kind of fastly. So I got up and was like, what the fuck? can I help you? but she was already out the door. I quickly checked everything, nothing was gone. Then I ran to the car park and the lady was just casually walking down the street. Weird! I wonder what she wanted? maybe she was checking the place out to burgle us later, or maybe she just changed her mind. Maybe, because she was black, she heard the really loud afrobeat music and thought it was a party! Did I mention I was playing very loud, very funky tunes? Did I mention she was black? Oh, I did, I just didnt want to bring alarm to the fact a suspicious looking person who just so happened to be the colour black was curiously perusing the premise of my work with out my knowledge. Thats all.

With that out the way I dont have much to say. My bloody gazebo fell down again, after I had already kind of fixed it. Stupid thing is proving more trouble than what its worth. But I think I have sorted it out good and proper. Nic came around and helped hoist it up. He also lent me his Roland S Howard record, was is brilliant. I got a turn table now so Im a happy man. Jasmine doesnt like it so much, she prefers the fuck off TV we now have. Modern appliance a plenty.

I saw the trailer for The imaginarium of doctor Parnassus and it looks really really awesome. Not because its Heath Ledgers last performance, I couldnt give a shit about that, but because its one of those things that only your imagination can take you to a place like that. I mean, normally if I was in a video shop or going to the movies, I tend to go for films that have a tag like "inspired by the real events" or "based on a true storey" and its usually about racism and killing some Jews or the injustices done to a black man by an oppressive regime or era. I like those movies, but every now and then you need to go a place where only the imagination can take you. Where reality doesnt exist. Because reality is for those who cant handle drugs. And you need to step outside of it sometimes. So I recommend getting off your gourd and going to see it. It will be well worth it.
Im still waiting for The Road to come out, but its a while off yet.

This weekend I am thinking about getting some spray cans and hitting the streets. Not to tag pointless shit like road signs and windows. But do some politically motivated stencils that have no relevance to todays political agenda. Who knows, maybe I will end up just doing a birds eye view of a cock and balls on every street corner in the northern suburbs. Thats political.

Keep your eyes in the sky

Recycling, cycling and cycles

So Ive just moved into a new house. Settling in, and familiarising myself with all the new things like the light switches, shower pressure, toilet roll holder, how many steps from the bed to the front door, the noises the house makes when its windy, the other houses in the street, nearby milk bars, when to put the wheelie bins out....when to put the wheelie bins out? At fucking 7am this morning! thats when I put the god damn wheelie bins out. Jasmine and I went for a bike ride around the burbs last night, and I made a point of looking for wheelie bins. None to be seen, not in my street, nor the streets around us. But at 7 am we could hear the "oh so quite" garbage men coming up the street. So it was running out into the street in my jocks carting along 2 wheelie bins, waving down the garbos and giving them the kind of fucked up smile/smirk/embarrassed look that anyone in their undies at 7 am would give a garbage man. Awful I tells you, awful. But the worst part was the guy just staring at me like, "I see this everyday but I still think your a wanker for running in the street in your chundies" kind of look. And raising my left hand in a polite gesture was not going to make the situation look better. I was going to scream at him "Im new to the neighborhood!!" but didnt want to attract the attention of the neighbors. So I ate humble pie for breakfast.

So the new house is great but my gazebo was destroyed in the wind the other day. I am upset. I love that gazebo.


In short, I dont have much to say or talk about. Im lacking inspiration for alot of things. Especially because the band is falling apart. Morgan is moving to Wales and Tom could be moving to Sydney. On one hand I am disappointed, because we put so much effort into it. We just had the CD finished which took fucking ages. We recorded at the start of the year and 9 months later we have a finished product. It really is like being in a relationship. Good times, bad times, hard times, not so hard times. Just lots of times really. On the other hand I am happy to let it go and try something new. The thought of starting a new band is pretty exciting. I dont think I will ever stop making music, I just need more time to do it and more people to do it with.
We are putting together a Wiseflys line up for a gig in December. Its going to be pretty damn awesome. Check out the link and listen to the great classic hits like "shit on my dick"
The band is going to be pretty huge, about 8 or more people. Ill be playing keyboards, short shorts and percussion bits and pieces.

Tonight I mite just go to Bunnings to get stuff to fix the gazebo. I hate that place. I thought I would love it but no. Its like DIY IKEA. Once your in, you cant find what you need and have to walk through the whole fucking place to find it. In the mean time you have asked 3 work experience kids, a retarded guy they hired because they felt bad and a woman who couldnt get a screw even if she knew wich aisle they are in. (oh that was bad, please forgive me) The only good thing about is the sausage sizzles. Speaking of IKEA, Jasmine and I got some stuff from there last week. So much useless shit but your are forced to walk past it all and pretend like its really nice. While couples argue over what looks better and where to put it, I pretend I am in a different world. My thoughts sound like "la la lal lala al ala la la la trunda lala lala" with a back ground noise similar to centrelink. I had such a rush from visiting IKEA I managed to put the stuff together in record timing. I was fucking proud, Jasmine even said "you could get a job at IKEA!" I thought about for at least .03 seconds and being over .05 b.a.c I decided quickly but quietly against it. The sweet poetry of my life.

keep it gangsta.