Tattslotto – for a fuckin’ second there …

The Tattslotto website has shat itself but luckily the Herald Sun published the numbers. I had a quick look before running upstairs to get my ticket. As I came down the stairs I remembered some of the numbers and noticed my ticket as 3, 12 and 21. When I got down stairs saw I also had 29 and 38 but alas fell two short though, albeit with two numbers that came very close. My heart raced for a second there.

I assume five numbers in Super 7s is less lucrative than 5 numbers in normal six-number Tattslotto so I’m not holding my breath, especially when you consider the millions I’d be sharing with. Surely instead of having $100 million as the main prize they could bump up the lower divisions.

Yes I’m a sore loser, and rightly fucking so too. I already hate the cunt(s) who won the big prize. They say that one in three Australian adults has purchased a ticket for tonight’s draw. That means the winner(s) is gonna be one unpopular fucker up there with Ivan Milat, Martin Bryant, Bronwyn Bishop and Lleyton Hewitt. Still at least they’ll be less hated than Kyle Sandilands.

There will also be massive sour grapes tomorrow when everyone reconciles not being filthy rich with talk of “that sort of money will fuck up people’s lives. You wait, the poor winner is fucked!”.

I hope so!

Let’s hope the winner does a George Best and spends it all on fast cars, fast women and drink and then squanders the rest.

Forget Volvo drivers, the biggest dickheads on the road drive …

In the suburbs there are two kinds of dickheads who drive the Toyota Prado:

A – Fat-arsed tracksuit wearing mums who are too fucking lazy to walk their kids to school so then clutter the drop off zone with these giants and then take more than five minutes to say goodbye to little Jaxxon and Taylah.

What the fuck takes so long? The Boeing CH-47 Chinook heavy-lift helicopter can have 35 fully-equipped combat troops disembarked in about one minute. For some reason there is a problem with the Toyota Prado that means dropping off two little bastards with school bags and a soccer ball takes five minutes. Could it be because a six-year-old girl might have trouble with the big door but Prado mum is fucking lazy to help? That’s a rhetorical question actually, that’s exactly fucking why!

Added to this is the fact that Prado drivers think they are the only people on the road so when they approach the drop-off point they stop at the start rather than drive up to the end to clear the way for others. In short they are selfish cunts, which happens to be what Prado means in Latin.

After taking so long to drop off their little cunt spawn Prado Mum realises she is going to miss the start of Kerry-Anne so she tailgates cars before passing on the inside lane with all the grace of Judy Moran at a smorgasbord.

After school she shows up early to get a parking spot because she’s fucked if she’ll walk. Of course parking within white lines isn’t good enough for these people. No, instead you see Prado’s off-road ability put to rare use; mounting the kerb and parking on a nature strip as close to the school so Prado Mum doesn’t have to get off her big fat fucking arse to pick the kids up from the gate.

B- Cunts in suits who talk on their mobile phones while tailgating people on freeways. Then, when they pass a car which has been sitting on cruise control set to about 103 km/h, they slow down meaning you pass the big twat before having to go through the whole tailgate routine again.

Anyone who owns a Toyota Prado as a family or company car with none of its excellent practical uses in mind is cunt!

Cumilative grumpiness – the Andrew Symonds Effect

Fuck I’m a grumpy cunt. I didn’t start the day grumpy, but a sequence of little things all added up to give me the screaming mental shits.

On their own each little bit of frustration would have been glossed over immediately. But add them together and the camel ends up with serious spinal injuries. I have named this the Andrew Symonds Effect, where a series of events, which are forgivable on their own, combine to create one totally unacceptable circumstance. If you’re more politically minded you can call this the Joel Fitzgibbon Effect.

So what was the stream of events that led to me cracking the shits over the location of the eggs at my local Coles supermarket?

OK, I started the morning happy enough, but then I had to give my mum a lift to the hairdresser via the post office. No big deal, I love my mum and I’ll happily take her anywhere she wants. But then I started thinking that now I’m single again, what if lifts to the hairdresser expand to other things to the point where I have to schedule my life around my mum and get invited to family weddings on the same invitation as my her? I kept thinking of Arthur in Mother and Son.

I shook that thought away after I dropped mum off and went to Bunnings to buy some weed matting for my pending garden makeover (pending meaning when I can be fucked starting).

Six steps to grumpy

1. This is where things really started going all Andrew Symonds. Already shitty at the thought of a cousin asking one of my siblings at a party “when is your mum and brother coming?” I went to turn into the car park only for some bloke in a Toyota Camry to block the way and pointing in a manner that he wanted to go straight rather than turn. He was blocking the whole road which gave no room for either of us to maneuver so I cracked the shits and went around the long way – not the worse thing to happen to someone, just the first straw on the dromedary.

2. Then as I strolled through Bunnings to the find weed matting this old bloke passed having a big fuck-off chesty coughing fit without even attempting to cover his mouth. I immediately put my jacket  over my face in protest and said “cover your fucking mouth” which under my jacket probably sounded like “yuvver you vucken mough”. Swine flu or not – that’s fucking rude! Fuck him. Old sick cunt!

3. I found the fucking weed matting I needed, but could not find the little pegs to secure it. I saw two employees in their green aprons and as I walked towards them with my finger raised in a polite ”excuse me” gesture they turned around and started walking away! As I approached the lazy cunts around the corner I heard one of them say (and I shit you fucking not): “Pedophilia is with kids, necrophilia is with dead people.” Luckily I saw the pegs I needed and didn’t have to speak to them.

4. I get to the check out and there’s only a couple of people in front. A guy buying a wheelbarrow decides he wants to pay by cheque. Cheque? Who the fuck pays by cheque? How fucking 20th century is that? So I waited for the young lass to go through the authorisation process during which the guy says to her, in the shits, “If it’s gonna take that long I’ll pay by credit card”.  Nice one, you stupid cunt.

5. Meanwhile, in the eight minutes it took to authorise this fucking cheque, I had a guy behind me who obviously missed school the day they taught the concept of personal space. I know sometimes close contact is unavoidable, but in a warehouse that’s so big it can be seen from the fucking international space station, there is absolutely no reason why I should be intruded on this way – it’s fucking creepy. So I moved forward. He followed. I coughed like that old cunt before. He moved back. Cunt.

6. By now I’m shitted off with the world. Then I thought I feel like bacon and eggs so I went to Coles to purchase the raw materials. Now, there are two Coles supermarkets near me. One has the eggs next to the orange juice at the end of the last isle – a good spot as being the last thing to go in the trolley they are less likely to break.  

The Coles I went to this morning had the eggs located fuck knows fucking where. Not near the orange juice, not near the milk, not near the deli, not near the fruit and veg. So I asked some pimply little chap where the eggs were and he told me they were in aisle three as though I’m the dumb cunt for not knowing this. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” I said to the poor bastard, and stormed off to aisle three where some woman was telling another woman that her little baby had a cold yet made no attempt to wipe the snot from the poor little cunt’s face.

This is what supermarkets do. They fuck with your mind and keep moving things so you go in to buy bacon and eggs and while negotiating a maze to find them you end up with a trolley full of shit you had no intention of buying. Indeed as I traipsed through Coles looking for the fucking eggs I did see things that I needed, but through fuck you Coles you’re not getting an extra cent out of me today – though I did grab some orange juice when I went that way in search of eggs.

By the time I was asked at the check out “do you want Flybuys?” and then “would you like to join FlyBuys?” I had given up on life.

Fuck people. Fuck Bunnings. Fuck Coles. Fuck the fucking world!

Luckily I am a fantastic cook. The bacon and scrambled eggs rocked!

Fuck the banks. FUCK THEM!

Notice there are no more armed hold ups at banks like there used to be? It’s because the banks have us fucked from every angle. Those same ruffians who used to don balaclavas and shove a sawn-off in a piss-pants-terrified teller’s face, have since been so fucked and damaged by the banks in return that their spirit is broken. Now they just mug school girls carrying laptops.

I’m glad I no longer have a mortgage. I’d rather give my landlord $300 a week than a bank more than that in interest to live in the same house. And I have resigned myself to the fact that while the world economy is in the shit I’d get fuck all interest on my savings.  So I was pretty chuffed a couple of weeks ago when I saw that BankWest had an online savings account that offered 5 per cent with access to your money when you wanted it.

I opened the account a couple of weeks ago and have been waiting for my interest to roll in. So imagine my dismay when I went into my local BankWest branch today and saw that big 5% headline on the posters for the Smart eSaver account have been covered up with 4.75%.

I asked a guy who worked there (and was doing fuck all) if that rate applies to anyone who opened that account when it was 5 per cent and he gleefully said yes.

I yelled out,” why you fucking smug cunt”, grabbed his stapler and scooped the eyes out of his fucking head like a wog shucking oysters*.

What in the fuck is going on BankWest? You’ve bought the interest rate down on a savings account despite the fact there hasn’t been an interest rate cut since you introduced the said account. At the same time you and your parent bank the Commonwealth Bank, failed to pass down the latest interest rate to home loan borrowers when it was passed. I can only conclude BankWest that, while you pretend to be the happy small bank, you’re just a fucking cunt like the rest of them.

Where’s the rage? Why do we put up with shit? Why do savings interest rates go down but credit card rates stay high? Why? Because we do fuck all about it. And why are things so expensive these days? 500g Coles brand shredded tasty cheese costs $6.45. Cunts!

Fuck youse BankWest and Coles!

* Sentence may be historically inaccurate.

Three things that really fucking shit me today

I can be an impatient person. I don’t mind if something beyond anyone’s control holds me up, but I get really fucking pissed off when people are in their own little fuckin’ world, so therefore have no idea who they’re holding up when they’re being total dumb fucks.

First thing that shit me: I went to my local 7-11 store to use the ATM. This woman in front of me finished her transaction and when she got the receipt proceeded to study it while still standing in front of the ATM . Fuck knows how much information a piece of paper half the size of your palm can contain, but the ginger-haired bitch just kept reading, reading and fucking reading.

What the fuck? Did she have one of those miniature Holy Bibles painstakingly written by a monk with a big fuck off magnifying glass, steady hand and way too much time on his hands? How could it take so long to read an ATM receipt? The time it took her to read what ever the fuck that caught her interest wasn’t really the issue. Fuck me, she could have curled up with the thing along with a nice cup of cocoa for all I care, just don’t do it standing at the ATM while I’m waiting to take money out. Fuckin’ stupid selfish ranga.

Second thing that shit me:After withdrawing my cash I went to the car with a plan to wash it at the automatic carwash adjacent the 7-11. As I got in my car another vehicle pulled up to the little keypad where you pay for the car wash by cash or credit card. As I drove up to wait behind this car I noticed that the driver had tiny arms. “Oh great!” I thought sarcastically. “A fucking freak in front of me.”

As it turned out the driver of the car was letting his child press the buttons of the keypad. When the little fucker couldn’t reach the dad opened the door so the kid could get out and reach the keypad and press every fucking button except the right ones. The hue of my knuckles faded rapidly as I gripped the steering wheel with fantasies of flooring it and driving into the stupid fuckers.

 The driver, instructing his little cunt spawn on how to make the transaction, looked back at me with a “kids, what can you do?” look.  I’ll tell you what you fucking can do you stupid Mazda driving fuck! Put the little cunt in his car seat and press the buttons yourself and get your stupid fat fucking arse into the car wash so I can follow poste haste. This isn’t a toy fuck wad. I’ve used this car wash a dozen times and I’m yet to see the Fischer Price logo on the keypad. Regrettably I didn’t actually say that, but I gave the fucker a dirty look. So, did he pull the kid back into the car and proceed? Did he fuck!

I reversed the car and fucked off ,cursing the fucking cunt and his dad.

Third thing that shit me:I’m on the Metropolitan Ring Road sitting on 102 with cruise control and wondering why some of the fuckers I passed back at Sydney Road are now passing me, despite the fact my speed has been constant. Dumb fucks. Anyway I wanted to take the Plenty Road exit so I passed one more car and then got behind a four wheel drive, I think it was Ford Escape - not that I really give a fuck. They are all the devil’s chariot.

The fuckhead driving this overpriced station wagon is sitting on 80km/h on the freeway, which should be an offence punishable with a severe arse fucking. So I’m stuck behind this arse hat who slows down even more on the exit ramp only to then run red light at the intersection with Plenty Road. Why, in God’s name that is all fucking holy on this swine flu ravaged fucked up earth in which we live in, is some cunt who is happy driving at 80km/h on a freeway then in so much of a hurry he has to run a red light. Cunt!

Anyone who opposes the $43 billion broadband roll out is a cunt

Today there were claims claims that a highspeed broadband network in the UK, such as the one the Australian Government plans to install, is a waste of money for that country as there is no demand for it (though Bolt conveniently omitted the magic word – “yet”).

With no regard for future advances in information technology the guy (apparently some kind of IT expert, though the only qualification you need for Bolt to quote you is to agree with him) said something like “why get a Ferrari when everyone is happy with a Ford?” ** Yeah that’s all very well in the UK when everyone has big fuck off 2009 Ford XR8s, but here in Australia we’re trundling about in fuckin beat up 1980 Ford Lasers.

The reason for my angst tonight is my latest broadband drama. As you may have read in previous posts I have been unable to secure ADSL1 or 2 at my outer suburban residence, which has led to many a comical farce of which I have mostly taken with good spirit – though if I were in America I may well have shot a dozen people. So I got Bigpond Wireless, which is OK, but not perfect as it’s subject to drop outs.

Last night nothing. The wireless modem was telling me I was getting a very good signal but my pages were loading slower than dial up. At first I thought I may have exceeded my download limit. But then I remembered I got an email on Saturday saying I was at 50 per cent of my usage and there was no wayI could have used up 5 gigabytes since then – porn and all.

So I called Bigpond tech support. After screaming at the robot guy that I did not want to go through his fucking troubleshoot routine and then trying to tell it my phone number for another five minutes, I was put through to a Filipino lady who asked for my phone number – I ask you, for the love of all that is yummy why did I just spend five minutes telling this to a fucking recorded message! The banks do this with account numbers. Surely it’s … fuckin …  just to fucking shit us.

Anyway she was nice and tried to be helpful but nothing was resolved. So thinking it was my computer I did the full diagnostics; virus and spyware checks, deleting temporary internet files and cookies and even a defrag.

This morning I gave it a try and the internets ran as fast as all fuck. So when I got home tonight I assumed all would be good. But noooooo.

So I tried a few more things to no avail. Then I exclaimed aloud, despite being on my own, ”fuck it I’ll call Bigpond again”. After another tussle with bot man I was connected to another Filipino lady (so, they’re not just going to India) who told me that there is some kind of scheduled maintenance going on in my area. Maintenance? What fucking maintenance? On what? What the fuck?

Why was I not told this last night? Why can’t Bigpond send an email before this scheduled maintenance to let us know so we don’t waste our fucking time trouble shooting and calling call centres?

Fuck this for a lark. Kevin for fuck’s sake, please, let the fucking asylum seekers in and teach them the highly skilled trade of connecting fibre optic cables. Now!

Now it’s possible Filipino lady No.2 was full of shit. So if anyone has any ideas of what my problem could be please let me know.

Why I hate Collingwood Football Club – #54

Last night I was watching On the Couch, an AFL discussion program on Foxtel and heard football writer Mike Sheehan say that before the Round 3 Collingwood v Geelong match the Magpies had compiled a video of young Cats superstar Joel Selwood. They then met with the umpire hierarchy to show them the video in an effort to alert them to the fact that “Selwood plays for free kicks”.

The filthy, dirty, snitchy,  cunts claimed Selwood ducks over the ball to gain free kicks from head high tackles. Not only are they a bunch of dobbing sooks who continue to claim they lose matches because of bad umpiring decisions after missing several easy set shots at goal, but they are simply fucking wrong.

If Joel Selwood gets free kicks it’s because he’s one of the gutsiest men in the league who puts his head over the ball in order to win it – as stated by Gerard Healy and James Hird.  What’s next, will they claim that Gary Ablett Jnr get 46 posessions in agame to increase his chances of a free kick? 

Maybe if some of Collingwood’s piss ant has beens  showed such courage they might have a team of superstars rather than perennially being classes as a team whose youngsters failed reach their full potential (OK there’s some exceptions to that).

And isn’t it interesting how, after squealing to the umpires in an effort to make their taggers’ jobs easier, they then come up with a bullshit claim that an ump made unlawful contact with one of their players because they’re still pissed that Heath Shaw got pinged for doing the reverse.  Get over it you over-resourced but under achieving fucks. Is it any wonder you’re known as The Filth?

Disasters bring out the best in people, but some will always be cunts

I keep hearing how the bushfires have brought out the best in people, which has a semblance of truth though I do believe that, some of the great examples of sacrifice aside,  helping someone in time of need by donating money or donating some old clothes, is a matter of common courtesy rather than a superhuman effort.

However, while people are volunteering to risk their lives to put out fires, to raise money, to organise donated goods and to really go out of their way to help in anyway they can, we have to remember that things do move on and that there’s a significant part of our population that is, and always will be, a bunch of cunt.

Like, the piece of shit who threw a full stubby at a Swiss tourist on the Geelong road and nearly killed him – honestly who’d waste a full stubby. Joke! Sorry I couldn’t resist.  You can imagine what happened. There’s a bunch of dickheads in  a car who see a cyclist head on the freeway and one of them, egged on by his mates decides to throw a stubby at him. When they hit the guy in the face, and he slams to the ground bleeding and unconscious, they keep going, probably laughing. Yes the bushfires really brought the best in these users of our air.

We’re probably talking about a bunch of young guys, like the filth who set the mentally ill man’s home on fire. Who, if caught, will show up to court in suits to create the illusion that they are half decent. They’ll be surrounded friends and family who will say what lovely boys they are and that after they realised what they did they cried like babies. Fuck them!

Then there’s the “callous” burglar who stabbed a dog to death during a break-in at a Geelong home last night. Remember he’s one of us. Did the bushfires make him reflect on his worth to society? Fuck no, once a cunt …

Meanwhile at Yarambatt, cowardly killers have slain two kangaroos with bows and arrows. These sick shits probably donated some money to the bushfire appeal and think they are good people. They are not and if caught they should have electrodes connected to their fucking sick heads and studies to see what makes people so stupidly cruel.

While the bushfires have resulted in some wonderful examples of human sacrifice and kindness and have made the rest of us do decent things, we shouldn’t put our guard down to the bastard fucks that will always do their best to destroy the lives of others.

There won’t be any Facebook pages outing these people. As sick as their crimes sound they are things that happen everyday and get lost in all the flag waving, self congratulatory pomp in which we immerse ourselves after events like Black Saturday, in the mistaken belief that basking in the glorious sacrifices of the relative few makes us all great.