Idle Semester

The semester has been stagnant for a while. I wish some fucker would hurry up and die.

Clown Semester

This is what happens when you are high on drugs and sleep with people you don't know.

The Brain Still Works - Asians Work Harder #008

The Brain Still Works - Sight for Sore Eyes #007

The Brain Still Works - See the World #006

Semester, as she slips by...

Yesterday I slipped as I was stepping up to pee at a urinal. Nearly fell in, but thanks to my superior balance, I managed to steady myself .

The guy next to me actually laughed out loud. I felt like smashing his head against the basin and shove urinal balls down his throat.

The Brain Still Works - Short Life #005

The Brain Still Works - Pool #004

The Brain Still Works - Try #003

The Brain Still Works - Asian Eyes #002

The Brain Still Works - Valentines Day #001

Happy Valentines Day

A day where you can truly show your loved one how you feel. But this year, instead of something that comes from the heart, how about something that comes from the anus?

Snoop Semester

Last Saturday was the Good Vibrations Concert at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne. Normally I shy away from these kinds of mass band outings, because undoubtedly the whole day becomes a very tiring semester. But the late addition of Snoop Dogg to a line up which already included Jurassic 5 and The Beastie Boys was the arm-twister.

Unfortunately for me, I don't look too dissimilar to Snoop Dogg. So every half-baked, bryl-cream haired, white-singleted loser that was there wanted a photo with me. This is another topic for later discussion, but right now let's concentrate on the task at hand. Every time I went for a beer, some loser would come up to me and ask to have his photo taken with me. What started as a game ended in tears. I decided my best bet would be not to move.

I went to the bar, decided to get 2 beers so I wouldn't have to go back, then headed back to my seating area. For the record, I was reasonably off my face by this stage. Talking nonsense for the most part. I was holding both beers in one hand, one of the cans on top of the other. Unbeknownst to me, when I went to drink, the beer from the bottom can would spill all over my trousers, just in the area that would give the impression that Id done the piss of all pisses in my own pants. This wouldn't be such a big deal normally. But when I stood up I realised my error. People would come up and say "Hey it's Snoop Dogg!" Then they'd look down at my pants and say "Oh. Snoop Dogg wet his pants." To add another dimension to this story, the beer had also seeped to the rear of my pants, such that it looked like Snoop Dogg also had explosive diahrreoa at the same time.

Drop it like it's hot indeed.

Shit Semester Continues

From our guest writer, Neville. Thanks Nev.

runny shit part II:

so there i was in india...again.

This time in new delhi for a diet coke pitch with mccann. it was my first time there, though i'd been in india for over a year. i'd always heard of delhi-belly but i figured on my diet of pizza and fried chicken, i'd be ok.

i was wrong.

i'd been there for about a week, working on scripts for the pitch. and it was the day before i left so i had to present the management my ideas. and it just so happened, that day was the day mccann erickson new delhi moved to newer, larger offices.

so we met at the new premises in the morning, it was a long massive warehouse type place. we found a meeting room with no desk (the office was an empty shell still), all lit up our cigarettes and i launched into my presentation. i had 5 scripts in total to present, so i started (from best to worst)...

i said the first script. it went down well. second one, it bombed. as i was talking through the third script, my stomach started turning over. like a westinghouse washing machine. i was no longer a virgin to delhi-belly.

i had to stop presenting. i asked the bosses "guys, im sorry, i gotto stop. do you know where the toilet is around here?" they didnt know, so i excused myself and left the meeting room.

as soon as i closed the door behind me, i started sprinting like a buff american on steroids to the other end of the warehouse. there it was. heaven. the toilet door.

i ran into the toilet, didnt bother locking the door behind me, got my pants around my ankles as fast as i could, sat my bum down on the fresh dunny (new office, new toilets, new everything). i was the first to use it. and then it exploded...the amount of unholy water that gushed forth that day was out of control. i was very sick. i had a severe case of delhi belly.

after what seemed like 4 and a half hours on the throne, i was ready to clean up and get off. i reached across: toilet roll holder, no toilet roll. oh dear. water spray gun: not in this toilet. oh dear. ok...think. sink. i could do it indian style - splash some water around my arse. not ideal, but im desperate. ok...turn the tap: no water. oh fuck. ok...what next what next. i could sacrifice my socks: shit, im wearing jesus sandals. undies: today, of ALL FUCKING DAYS im free balling. WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA DO?

and then it hit me, like a beam of light from the heavens.

i was still holding my beloved A4 PAGES of bad diet coke scripts. glory.

as you know, the A4 page is not the ideal wiping texture, its a bit smooth. but then, i was desperate. so, smooth it had to be. i did the deed. i wiped my arse with the diet coke scripts. there, i said it.

i was ready to leave. the office was starting to fill up now, and i could hear people talking outside. i couldnt leave the paper in the toilet (note: in retrospect, it would have been a great idea to leave the paper in the toilet at this point). so i got up to flush the toilet. NO FLUSH. the toilet water also hadnt been connected. FUCK. what could i do, this situation couldnt be fixed.

i ran out of the toilet, past the people, keeping my head down in the hope they wouldnt recognise me (which again, in retrospect was a bit dumb as i was the only white guy in the office) still holding the now damaged diet coke scripts. what they were about to discover in that toilet would have brought tears to the eyes.

again, i sprinted down the office in the opposite direction this time, right to the end. past the meeting room full of waiting management, past some other tea drinking indians - all of them wondering "why is that ferrang running through the office in his jesus sandals holding shitty smelling screwed up A4 pages" - and made it to a staircase to the basement. down there, it was a huge empty car park.

i ran down the stairs and went over to a dark corner. i lit a cigarette and pondered the situation before me. this moment was not a high point in my life.

i did the only thing that could be done. i burned the evidence.

shitty diet coke scripts. up in flames.

i then ran to the street, jumped in my car, and told him to take me back to the hotel. when i got there, the same thing happened again. only this time there were supplies. i called the creative director, apologised and told him the situation, that i had a stomach upset and had to leave. not the whole story, obviously.

i never saw any of those guys again. a couple of hours later i got an early flight back to bangalore never to return to mccann erickson new delhi, where im sure im remembered fondly.

delhi 1 - tom 0.

--
tommo

Muhammad Semester

Not long ago this cartoon sparked havoc and insult to the Muslim communities around the world.

And I for one, feel sorry for the people that has been affected by this blasphemy. So in the effort to restore world peace, I have replaced the bomb turban with a cute bear cartoon:

We are on a roll....

The Semester hits 100

Thank you Blogger for your congratulatory message which has completely ruined the puritan ethic of 'The Semester'. It really took a lot of work to keep hitting that refresh button, but who knows, at this rate we'll reach 1000 by the month. No doubt you'll get your 'TAFE School of colour-blind, retarded web designers' (ie, failed IT graduates) onto making the sequel to the first aesthetic masterpiece that was just sent. Fuck you.

Wow.. Blogger mail!

End Of Semester

Ashes to ashes. Breast to breast.

Work ethics...

I was called a brown-nose the other day... For those who doesn't know what it is, it means:

1) ... someone who sucks up to someone to gain their favor. This is done by doing stuff for them for no apparent reason, laughing at stuff they do that wasn't suppose to be funny, agreeing with everything they say, etc...

2)... also known as the TEACHER'S PET or ASS KISSER.

3)... that you really have a brown nose... like an aboriginal.

This is me working in front of my MAC.

Perspective

Someone very wise once said, its perspective.
Maybe the big-wig looks out the window of his 89th floor office wishing he could spend the weekend driving forklifts. The same way the junior wishes he could waltz into the office, spend the morning pretending to stare at the computer, meet up with equally obnoxious shiny suit wearing others for lunch, make a few phone calls after that, head out for afternoon tea and then leave.



Take Anna Nicole Smith, for example. Maybe all she wanted was to lead a normal life. Instead she's hounded by papparazzi, surrounded by scandals and legal suits, and drug overdoses. But maybe there are others who yearn for the fame, the smell of money, the power to influence who wish they were in her position. Perspective.
I didnt know she existed till she died. Irony

Reversal Of Semester

I've always found the corporate hierarchy ironic. I mean, you think about it. When you start at a big firm, you're paid the lowest, work the hardest, not given any parking, not given any fringe benefits, basically made to shovel shit for peanuts. Yet the big wigs are often paid ridiculous amounts, given fancy company cars, parking spots in the basement and yet all they have to do for a living is come in at 11:30, stroke their chin a few times, say "do this again" then head off for a booze-filled lunch. Why wouldn't you give the fancy car and carpark to the junior? I suppose they'll take it down to the docks and arc up a sned on the weekends. Then it'll be taken off them and the semester will start all over again.

I think putting up pics of scrawny scrags is a cop-out actually. I mean, why not something like this?

Traffic...

I just had a great idea on how to get people to read our blog... but I can't seem to remember it now.

My Big Fat Asian Semester

Keep eating beef and see what happens. You'll also tear yourself a new asshole from the diamond-hard shit you'll be trying to excrete. Brown Diamond.

Happy Valentines day dear

Here's a thought:

If both your Best friend and Girlfriend/wife fell in the river and you can only save one.. who would it be?

For me I would definitely save my wife, that's because my best friend would understand.

Cows don't have semesters.

Well the indians will just have to "get with the times". Eating beef is the norm nowadays. There are no more saving the cows for milk. The have cloning machines to make more.

As with paying respect to the cow god... we have the Japanese to thank for continuing this tradition. Here's how the Japanese are treating their cows:

"They are raised on only 262 small farms, most of which pasture fewer than five cows, and the largest of which run only 10 to 15 animals.

Each animal is pampered like a spoiled child. Their diets are strictly controlled and during the final fattening process, cattle are fed hefty quantities of sake and beer mash.

Each animal gets a daily massage. The theory is that mellow, relaxed cows make good beef." www.askthemeatman.com

As you can see.. What cow whouldn't want to be fed beer mash and quantities of sake while getting a daily massage? (mmm sake... )

All in all, the cows have a good life, and in their after life, they give pleasure by providing their meat to feed the hungry.

I worship cows, when they are in a burger.

Beef Semester

The cow is revered because the largely pastoral Vedic people and subsequent generations relied so heavily on the cow for dairy products, tilling of fields and cow dung as a source of fuel and a fertiliser that its status as a 'caretaker' led to identifying it as an almost maternal figure (so the term gau mata).

Today, in heavily Hindu nations like India and Nepal, bovine milk continues to hold a central place in religious rituals. In honour of their exalted status, cows often roam free. In some places, it is considered good luck to give one a snack, or fruit before breakfast. In places where there is a ban on cow slaughter, a citizen can be sent to jail for killing or injuring a cow.
With injunctions against eating the cow, a system evolved where only the shit of society fed on dead cows and treated their leather.

It also seems that indulging in cow meat turns you into a fat fuck, like some Asians I know. In fact, it is very rare to see a fat Asian, but one in particular who relishes beef, and has even tried to force others to eat it, has really become rotund.

Also, from experience, those that eat beef tend to always be having bad luck. Which would explain why this strangely fat Asian is now working at Curtin University.

BEEF KEBAB

Wow.. I just had the most delicious beef kebab ever.. Tender beef strips with fresh onion, tomato and lettuce, wrapped in pita bread and covered with garlic and chili sauce.

I feel like a shit now.

But before that, I just want to know why some people don't eat beef? Especially Indians. It's good for you, lots of iron... but noooo.. they rather eat the shit out of the cows arse (See below: African Semester).

Honda Civic

Whoa check this out!














...and its in white!

The Semester Strikes Back

I know someone who recently returned to university. Not as a student, not even as a lecturer, but as a general employee. There's a saying that goes something like, "Those that can't do, teach. Those that can't teach, teach gym class." So what does that make people who work at Uni? You have to woder what motivates someone to return to the place where they studied, hang out with the lecturers (most of which were pedophiles) and eat the same crappy nachos in the library cafeteria?

I guess it all comes back to the Semester.

Work

Here I am.. sitting in front of my Mac on a Wednesday morning. It's just another day in the office. Sometimes I just wonder: "What am I doing here?"

Then again, what would I have done if I wasn't in the office. Hang out with the Boongs?

African Semester

You have to ask yourself, why doesn't he eat the cow?

Beach

I remember when I was working in Singapore, my uncle took me to Sentosa Beach. Unfortunately I had eaten something from the hawker stalls the day before that really didn't agree with me and ended up having explosive diahrroea. Still, he insisted we go to the beach, much to my chargrin. Initially, and much to my surprise, after a quick swim I felt much better. Then at some point in the day I suddenly felt the urge. I was way too far from the shore to make it back, let alone find a toilet. Alas, I had to excrete in the ocean. Thank goodness for South-East Asias murky waters. I actually swam away from it hoping that it wouldn't follow me. To my horror, some of the lighter particles started to surface. To my greater horror, some small fish started eating it.

So whats happening?

Hi how are you doing you prick! Don't you have anything better to do?

Welcome to budonkadonka

FUCK YOU!