Samson & Delilah

Warwick Thorton's film is one of few words. And so is this post. It's sad. It's rad. See it.

Keyboard cat is my hero

I never thought that my love for Spaghetti Cat could be overshadowed. Ever. He completed me. But then I met Keyboard Cat. And he had me at hello. Seriously, anything that brings a happy resolution to Hayley Joel Osmund's guest spot on Walker Texas Ranger, is worth the price of the 118 batteries you need to run a Casio keyboard.

Visit Keyboard Cat in all his magnificence here.

Exercise is for dickheads

I finally understand obesity. Not only do you enclose your body in a safety cage of your emotionally caused blubber, you also don't injure yourself by exercising. And you also get to eat everything deep-fried and covered in chocolate.

Sunday arvo I decided to go for a run.

All was going according to plan, one foot after the other (repeat). Ran down through Woolloomooloo then up around Mrs. Macquarie’s chair. I was feeling good, and running for Australia. Minus the lycra. And the fast running.

Little did I know that shit was about to go down. Clover Moore had cursed me with her bottomless collection of executive neck chokers and a complete lack of street lights.

Placed right in the middle of the footpath for your falling pleasure was the above decorative concrete hurdle.

So there goes me flying through the air heading for a pash with the bitumen. Luckily I employed all of my ninja know-how and managed to land on my left arm and then right shoulder and roll (almost down the stairs). I jumped up dusted off my grazed bits and ran the 15 minutes home.

It wasn’t until later the pain set in. So here I am now typing this with one hand, old school style. Meanwhile my left arm has seized up into a perfect right angle. Like some Josh action figure cheaply made in China and painted with almost skin-toned led paint.

You don’t realise how much you use both hands/arms until you can’t. Who would’ve thought that running is a contact sport. Maybe there's a new reality show in that. It will be massive in Japan. Well as long as the contestants had to cook with their genitals at the same time. Japan - it's all about the nuance.

EDIT - I have a fractured radius (one of the bones in your forearm). Awesomeness.