Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2000 10:48:23PM (GMT +10:00)
Subject: The Colonel
To: webmaster@kfc.com

Hi.

In Australia, I notice you sell a burger named ‘The Colonel’s Choice Chicken Fillet Burger’.

How can the Colonel personally choose what chicken he uses when he’s dead? Is there’s something you’re not telling us all?

Er… there WAS only one Colonel, wasn’t there?

Sincerest golden chickeny regards,

Jeb.

*****

I love long weekends. I had a fantastic sleep in on Saturday, but I’ve been having weird dreams. I can only attribute this to the fact that Adam and I now leave the heater up as high as it will go overnight while we sleep. On Saturday I was having some strange dream where I was running a doctor’s surgery but I was mucking everything up badly, and I’d forgotten what Medicare was called.

Me: Have you got your… er, card?
Confused sick person: What?
Me: The little green card. You know. Sick card. Medical card. Thing.
Confused sick person: I’ve never had anything like that before.
Me: But you have to give it to me! I have to type it in and stuff. The green card.
Confused sick person: (crying) I don’t know what you’re on about. I just want to see a doctor.

The confused sick person then grabbed a knife and stabbed me in the side and I woke up in agony, but it turned out Adam had accidentally kneed me really hard on the side of my chest. He was lying there laughing while I made a yelping noise and tried to figure out what bits were reality and what wasn’t, and what the hell the name of the little green cards was.

*****

I honestly don’t know how we get onto such topics at work, but we were talking about weeing in the shower. Jen admitted that she’d done it once or twice, and didn’t believe me that I’d never done it.

Me: I can hold on, you know. No bladder problems here.
Jen: Oh, crap. I don’t believe you. Oi, you. (points at Mr Marketing)
Mr Marketing: Are you talking about urine again?
Jen: Do you pee in the shower?
Mr Marketing: No. But thanks for asking.
Jen: Well, what about you, Mail Girl?
Mail Girl: Of course not. I’m British.

The Mail Girl finished her temp assignment with us on Friday. I got her a lunchbox as a going-away present, but there’s a story behind it. Whenever any of us wanted to go to lunch with her, we’d ask her if she’d brought a packed lunch or if she wanted to buy something. If she’d brought her lunch, she’d always say ‘I’ve brought a lunchbox’ even though she didn’t physically have a lunchbox. We found the invisible lunchbox rather funny, so I thought I’d get her a real one.

That wasn’t the only occasion I talked about urine with someone this week. Last night Adam and I were half awake, when for some reason in my half-awake state I saw it fit to ask Adam:

Me: Would you drink water that had been filtered out of someone’s urine?
Adam: Um… no.
Me: But it’s just water. All the urine bits are taken out.
Adam: Maybe if I was in the desert. But otherwise no.
Me: I would. It’s just water. The only difference is that it comes from a bladder instead of a cloud.
Adam: They drink urine every day in some countries. First thing in the morning. It’s actually quite healthy, full of nutrients and stuff.
Me: I wonder if, drinks-wise, you could survive on your own urine. It could just keep going around and around and around.
Adam: It’s possible.

(five minutes pass and we nearly fall asleep… but then I suddenly realise there’s an important aspect of this conversation I haven’t addressed)

Me: Would you drink your wee hot or cold?
Adam: (waking up again) Mmrgh? What?
Me: I’d drink my wee cold I think. I’d refridgerate it.
Adam: Just drink it at room temperature.
Me: Actually, I think I’d put it in a Soda Stream and make it fizzy.
Adam: I have a feeling the countries where they drink their urine, they usually can’t afford a Soda Stream.

I decided to let Adam sleep. He sort of rolled around for five minutes, then finally came to a stop. That was before he sleepily rolled over almost completely on top of me and poked his index finger in my eye.

*****

Late last week I decided to tell Jen that I was gay because I get on really well with her, and I could tell she would have no problems with it.

Me: (preparing for a big reaction from Jen) Jen?
Jen: What is it?
Me: Adam’s not just my flatmate. If you get what I mean.
Jen: Huh?
Me: Well… I’m gay.
Jen: Oh, is that all? Pfft. So am I.

So Jen’s gay too. She’s so cool and the fact that we’re both gay has made us closer friends. Then again, half the day we just seem to sit there talking about the people we don’t like out our work.

Snooty woman: (walks past our office)
Jen: See her?
Me: Yeah. What about her?
Jen: Don’t let her fool you. She comes across as such a nice person but she’s a real arsehole underneath.
Me: Ah. So it’s sort of like a battered turd… doesn’t seem bad at all until you’re in too deep.

*****

Our blow up Mr Blobby doll remains in the office. Mr Marketing stuck him above our in-office basketball ring and was aiming basketballs at Mr Blobby.

Mr Marketing: (hits Mr Blobby with basketball) Ooh, that’s gotta hurt… I got him in the blobbies.

Thanks to Ass Bustin’ Rich, I found a Mr Blobby CD on Amazon.co.uk… although I’m not sure I want a CD with songs like ‘Old McBlobby Had A Farm’.

Speaking of bad music, the DJ Accountant is continuing to make sure we all know the fact that he’s a DJ.

DJ Accountant: (waits for everyone to stop talking so he knows everyone is listening to him) So… I did my DJ job on the weekend.
Mr Marketing: Er… great.
Mail Girl: What is your favourite type of dance music?
DJ Accountant: Well, I guess I don’t really have a favourite type of music.
Me: So do you have a favourite song?
DJ Accountant: I really love that song from the early nineties, ‘Infinity’ by Guru Josh.
Me: (not sure if he’s joking or not) …oh?
DJ Accountant: Did you know that there are four remixes of that song?
Me: No, but I do think you know far too much about Guru Josh than you really should.

*****

Every public transport system - especially trains - no matter your location, it’s always going to be a bad service. I mean, you don’t really come across people talking about how great the trains are in any city. It’s one of those things people love to bitch about, even though they may not realise their train system in their city isn’t actually that bad.

I’ve experienced the train systems of at least three cities, and sure, everyone bitches about how bad they are. But let me tell you: Sydney’s Cityrail is GENUINELY bad. It is REALLY bad. For the past three weeks, I haven’t caught a train that arrived at my destination within five minutes of the advertised time. It’s usually as much as ten minutes late, but it’s not just the lateness. The city stations are ridiculous, the service overall is bad, the overcrowding is unbelievable, and come the Olympics it’s just going to be absolute mayhem. Then there’s the much-hyped new Airport Link line - you’d think they would allocate the airport it’s own train line, but they just removed trains from other lines and bung them through the airport. Notice how not many people at all get off at the airport stations - and those who do usually struggle to fit their luggage on peak hour trains. Airport Link is a very silly, silly idea.

I suppose I haven’t been in Sydney for that long - only four months - but Darling Harbour strikes me as the strangest place. Residents of Sydney don’t seem to go there that much - it’s almost as if Sydney says to tourists ‘Welcome to Sydney - now piss off to Darling Harbour where you belong! You can see the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House from there, and there’s an Imax cinema and Sega theme park and other touristy things and stuff!’

*****

As I mentioned earlier, we had a long weekend this week so I got Monday off. I managed to almost zip up my private parts in a pair of jeans on Monday, which brings the numbr of consecutive public holidays my testicles have been injured to three.

*****

I had a brilliant food idea the other day: Self Contained Nachos. You could have a giant corn chip shell type thing, and fill it with cheese, salsa, mince and stuff. Adam said that this had already been invented and it was called a taco, but this would be a bit different, I think.

On the weekend Adam hired the movie Saving Private Ryan and watched it with the volume up really loud. The problem was he was really drunk and thought he was a part of the movie.

It’s difficult to explain what Adam’s like when he’s drunk. When he’s sober he thinks he’s invicible and unbeatable, and this somehow goes to a next level when he’s been drinking.

Later that night I thought I should go check on him, and found him rolling around on the beanbag with the TV off. He moaned he was feeling really ill and it was all Ryan’s fault. I put him to bed and got him a barf-bucket, and he was fine the next day.

Adam’s work decided they didn’t need him anymore on Tuesday - he was there on a 6 month temp assignment but they just didn’t have enough work for him. He’s going to re-design his portfolio and go look for some more work at a different advertising agency, but in the meantime at least he’s still got his bouncer job.

I’m a bit worried about this pub he works at, actually. From what I can gather, this hotel has had two members of staff leave, one of them died and another bouncer commmitted suicide. I’m a bit worried that this hotel will eventually have some sort of effect on Adam.

*****

Breakfast with Adam: Things Adam has Eaten for Breakfast This Week
* Noodles
* Pizza
* Shepherd’s Pie

*****

Adam’s breakfast ideas are nothing on what Darren the Derro used to eat. I met Darren the Derro when I was working at the community radio station - I think he just hung around the radio station for lack of having a life. He lived off the dole and kept telling me about this fantastic concoction he’d come up with. It basically entailed filling a tray with Coca-Cola and putting pieces of bread in it. Then he’d let the bread dry out for a day and have Coke Bread. This is a classic example of what kind of people a community radio station attracts.

*****

Why Adam Refuses to See Mission Impossible 2, in Eight Easy Steps:

1. I decide I want to find a song called ‘Sugar Daddy’ I heard a long time ago.

2. I remember that this song was on the soundtrack to an old ABC TV show called Raw FM.

3. I check out the old Raw FM website to see if they have details about the soundtrack.

4. I see a picture of one of the guys in the show and remember how cute he is.

5. I show the picture to Adam and he thinks the guy looks disgusting.

6. I check out the Internet Movie Database to see what other TV shows the guy has been in.

7. It turns out the guy has a role in Mission Impossible 2. I promptly decide I want to see the movie.

8. Adam refuses to go to the movie when he finds out someone from Raw FM is in it.

*****

Following on from my last entry: Butter is still being a dildo. I found a ’spreadable’ butter but it’s not spreadable at all. Unless you leave it out of the fridge for a day, then it sort of turns… liqudious, but much more spreadable.

I think I’m going to go back to margarine. Maybe this was the reason my parents always bought margarine in the first place, because butter is so fucked.

When Adam and I woke up on Sunday morning, we noticed someone had called Adam’s mobile phone - but we didn’t know what the number was. It was a Brisbane phone number and I couldn’t figure out who it was, so I decided to ring it.

‘Hi, you’ve called Sean,’ the answering machine I called said. ‘If you’re calling about the room we advertised in the paper, then leave us a message after the beep.’ I asked Adam if he was planning on moving out. Moving to anywhere in particular… for example, BRISBANE?

I then demanded to know if he was one of Adam’s Boys. (There’s actually a gay escort company called Adam’s Boys which we joke that Adam owns). I still don’t know why Sean was calling us though.

Can I mention how much Channel 10’s “entertainment reporter”, Angela Bishop, shits me? She ponces around on all their programs, popping up on everything from the nightly news to The Panel, namedropping like there’s no tomorrow and sticking her breasts into any camera brave enough to take her on. She never laughs, either - unless it’s a false laugh. I bet she’s another prime candidate for the Battered Turd syndrome.

*****

The best nickname I saw in a chat room this week was someone at gay.com, using the nickname Phallus In Wonderland.

We constantly hear so much about x-rated movies and triple-x movies, but there’s a whole sub-genre of porn that by and large goes unnoticed: double-x porno. The double-x porno acting industry has one of the highest unemployment rates in all acting industries in the world. Apparently the demand for x-rated and triple-x-rated movies far outweighs the need for mere double-x movies. It’s either simulated sex or raw animal sex, and nothing in between apparently.

*****

I have been accused by Adam of wearing aftershave that smells like flyspray. When I walk out of the bathroom he’ll start humming the Mortein ad. Then on Sunday I was giving him shit about something, so when I got into the shower, he sprayed shaving cream over the top all over me. Bear in mind this was before I actually had a chance to turn the water on.

*****

We have a new temp working with us now - his name is Dale and he started on Monday. I was trying to explain the KFC debate to him that’s been raging in the office ever since someone suggested there might be two KFC colonels.

Dale: I thought there was no such person as the Colonel. Isn’t he just a cartoon?
Me: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat??????

*****

Today:

Julie: Hurry up. Come back from your break. I want to have a break.
Me: Nup. I’m going to go and get a coffee.
Julie: Noooooo! I really need to go to the toilet! I’m going to wet myself.
Me: Don’t care.
Julie: I’m going to count to five, and then I’m going to wet myself, I warn you.
Me: Go on then.
Julie: 1… 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.
Me: So you wet yourself?
Julie: Yes. I did.
Me: Good. Now you don’t need to go on a break.

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