Less chunk, more hunk.
Once again I emerge like a perennial, ready to bloom and get really pollinated.
The Newtown festival was my last bit of news. I think big gay Alf really sums that day up. Needless to say, I got heaps drunk and had an awesome time, despite the conspicuous absence of both Pete and the Pharmacy. I didn't get quite as sunburnt as I might have hoped, despite the oppressive heat. I mused on the day, while taking hearty swigs from my supercharged bottle of coke, that should one ever plan on having a `special day', such as a wedding or a bar-b-q, you are quite simply guaranteed fantastically hot sunny weather if you have it on the same day as the Newtown festival.
Last weekend, Wen and I decided to head north in search of warmer climes. Sunday night we spent in Terrigal, and Monday night in The Entrance. The weather was a little gloomy on Monday, so we decided to buy some cheap hand reels, buy a swag of longnecks, hire a boat, and go fishing. A few little fish caught from the boat whet our appetite for the rich coppery taste of blood, and ignited a firestorm of fishy competition between the first mate and I. So we went to a pier, via the bottle-o of course, and continued on. We pulled out a horde of fish, however the only ones worth keeping were caught by my steady hand and ruthless manner of holding a line. These included a decent sized flathead and two whiting. There was great rejoicing and I was hammered and cast the hook into my toe and it still hurts. Tuesday was a stinker, so we did the shake-and-bake routine. Wen decided to go more bake, less shake, and got horrifically sunburnt. I got all smug and was probably unbearable.
Then this week, I started on a diet. Yeh. I'm aiming to cut down on the ol' body fat, and try to look a bit leaner and a smidgin tuffer. Also, I'm looking to build muscle endurance rather than strength, so for exercise it's lots of cardio, plus weights with a shirtload of reps, pissant weights, and a short gap in between (The pissant is a much maligned beast. They are in fact noble creatures, and do 1d4 damage). Three days in, I'm doing sweet, although I was salivating heavily at the butchers this arvo, which sound odd no matter how I dress it. I'd type out my program, which would be fascinating reading, but then you may never reach such a level of excitement again, and be forever glum.
Yesterday I made the sombre purchase of my speargun, and accessories. I swore to only use it for good or rad. It's called a Woody 1400, and is actually one of the cheaper ones, and in default configuration is rather tame. However, I spent a bit of moolah amping it up, with sprung steel speed shafts, a thicker rubber, stronger line, and a new bungy cord. Unfortunately, the speed shafts have to be ordered in, and it wont be in super-saiyan mode for a few weeks. Undeterred, I'm heading down to Kiama this weekend with the gun, which most fish will find moderately unnerving rather than outright terrifying. I almost was talked into getting a more expensive modern aluminium gun, which are faster and have a longer range than the unmodified Woody. However, they just don't look as awesome as the old school Woody, with its varnished mahogany goodness and genuine 1970's lines.
So, yeh. I'm heading down to Melbourne next Tuesday night, as I really need to get a draft of this book chapter done before my northern sojourn. If I don't get it done, it wont be until the second week of Feb before I can get back into it, and it's due in April. Taking into consideration that the number of revisions that will be required between me and my co-authors will be somewhere between seven or eight thousand, I really need to give those hyenas something to gnaw on in my absence.
And with that, I am spent. I was picturing Mischa Barton.
Fellow boggers, pardon my absence. Keep the faith, as Bon Jovi would have us do. I feel guilty that I haven't updated, so I forbid myself from reading your disjointed diatribes until I feel I have foamed at the mouth sufficiently in the recent past. Also, I'm strange and keep going off the radar for reasons even our good lord and flirty savior is yet to discern.
The Newtown festival was my last bit of news. I think big gay Alf really sums that day up. Needless to say, I got heaps drunk and had an awesome time, despite the conspicuous absence of both Pete and the Pharmacy. I didn't get quite as sunburnt as I might have hoped, despite the oppressive heat. I mused on the day, while taking hearty swigs from my supercharged bottle of coke, that should one ever plan on having a `special day', such as a wedding or a bar-b-q, you are quite simply guaranteed fantastically hot sunny weather if you have it on the same day as the Newtown festival.
Last weekend, Wen and I decided to head north in search of warmer climes. Sunday night we spent in Terrigal, and Monday night in The Entrance. The weather was a little gloomy on Monday, so we decided to buy some cheap hand reels, buy a swag of longnecks, hire a boat, and go fishing. A few little fish caught from the boat whet our appetite for the rich coppery taste of blood, and ignited a firestorm of fishy competition between the first mate and I. So we went to a pier, via the bottle-o of course, and continued on. We pulled out a horde of fish, however the only ones worth keeping were caught by my steady hand and ruthless manner of holding a line. These included a decent sized flathead and two whiting. There was great rejoicing and I was hammered and cast the hook into my toe and it still hurts. Tuesday was a stinker, so we did the shake-and-bake routine. Wen decided to go more bake, less shake, and got horrifically sunburnt. I got all smug and was probably unbearable.
Then this week, I started on a diet. Yeh. I'm aiming to cut down on the ol' body fat, and try to look a bit leaner and a smidgin tuffer. Also, I'm looking to build muscle endurance rather than strength, so for exercise it's lots of cardio, plus weights with a shirtload of reps, pissant weights, and a short gap in between (The pissant is a much maligned beast. They are in fact noble creatures, and do 1d4 damage). Three days in, I'm doing sweet, although I was salivating heavily at the butchers this arvo, which sound odd no matter how I dress it. I'd type out my program, which would be fascinating reading, but then you may never reach such a level of excitement again, and be forever glum.
Yesterday I made the sombre purchase of my speargun, and accessories. I swore to only use it for good or rad. It's called a Woody 1400, and is actually one of the cheaper ones, and in default configuration is rather tame. However, I spent a bit of moolah amping it up, with sprung steel speed shafts, a thicker rubber, stronger line, and a new bungy cord. Unfortunately, the speed shafts have to be ordered in, and it wont be in super-saiyan mode for a few weeks. Undeterred, I'm heading down to Kiama this weekend with the gun, which most fish will find moderately unnerving rather than outright terrifying. I almost was talked into getting a more expensive modern aluminium gun, which are faster and have a longer range than the unmodified Woody. However, they just don't look as awesome as the old school Woody, with its varnished mahogany goodness and genuine 1970's lines.
So, yeh. I'm heading down to Melbourne next Tuesday night, as I really need to get a draft of this book chapter done before my northern sojourn. If I don't get it done, it wont be until the second week of Feb before I can get back into it, and it's due in April. Taking into consideration that the number of revisions that will be required between me and my co-authors will be somewhere between seven or eight thousand, I really need to give those hyenas something to gnaw on in my absence.
And with that, I am spent. I was picturing Mischa Barton.
Fellow boggers, pardon my absence. Keep the faith, as Bon Jovi would have us do. I feel guilty that I haven't updated, so I forbid myself from reading your disjointed diatribes until I feel I have foamed at the mouth sufficiently in the recent past. Also, I'm strange and keep going off the radar for reasons even our good lord and flirty savior is yet to discern.
posted by dr. cok at 8:22 PM
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