Happy Birthday President Obama

I hope Michelle makes him an ice cream cake. Although being President he can order off the menu. I'd order the following:

Spaghetti and meatballs
6 shredded beef tacos
Spaghetti bolognase
A platter of assorted burritos, quesadillas, enchiladas and taquitos
Chilli crab spaghetti
Assorted salmon, tuna and sword fish sashimi
Spaghetti amatriciana
Roast beef, vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and gravy
A roast chicken
Thai red duck curry

Actually, stuff it I'd just suggest we have yum cha (dim sum).

This woman is bat-shizzle-crazy

Not only is this woman (Dr. Orly Downstairs Mouth) crazy enough to lather herself in Lindsay Lohan's tan-in-a-can (here I believe she models the ever popular Tuna-Canoe flavour) but she's also insane enough to spend her time campaigning with ''millions'' of other American's to have Barack Obama's "secrets" exposed.

She is a 'birther' and believes that President ''did we mention his middle name is Hussein'' Obama wasn't actually born in Hawaii, but rather forged his own birth certificate, and birth announcements (possibly while still in uterine: what else is a productive brother supposed to do with nine spare months?) in the hope that he would, 48 years later, be president.

Problem is that Dr. Orly Salmon Catamaran is way off with Barack's secrets. Dude is the rightful President of the United States - but he has hidden much from us all. Let me reveal what to you before the brown-pants media shut me down:

1. He is Spiderman
2. He uses an electric toothbrush
3. He invented River Dance
4. Every time he sneezes a butterfly has an orgasm
5. He once explored the realm of the flesh tagine

Watch this if you dare. And then hope that no one is actually stupid enough to believe anything that Dr. Orly Clam Surprise says.

The land of the free and the money back guarantee - shake and what?

American's love an instant fix. Want to eat the national savoury wrap of Mexico for breakfast? No worries all you need is a microwave.

Want to have the tan of a Miami call girl? Easy just spray yourself with some of Lindsay Lohan's snatch juice in a can.

And luckily now ladies you can have the arms of First Lady Michelle Obama without the work. It's easy just buy the Shake Weight. It's the only machine that readies your arms for providing gentlemen callers with light hand relief.

And all for the cost affordable price of $19.95. Is it wrong that I'm now craving Shake n' Bake?

How to sell a product

With a script that has a really catchy and relate-able message. Oh and a tranny gag. If you can't include mannequin humour, then all scripts must have a tranny. I didn't make the rules Jesus did.

This is what Alanis Morissette was singing about right?

This is why so many people jizz in their pants about the internet. Because it is a place where a song from Phoenix's 2009 album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix can mate with the Brat Pack and produce three minutes of online entertainment. How Ironic. I can’t explain why but people creating useless and meaningless stuff like this gives me a world wide web worthy boner.

There, I said it.

The delights of you tube

Because you tube is the most magical place on the world wide web. Other than Kim Jong Il's twitter feed. And because I am a lazy blogger. Blog imitating life really.

My hands are bananas




Sour's 'Hibi no Neiro

He he. Sham-on. Ahhhh!

RIP MJ.

Never have I seen buildings bleeding so well

Please consider RoboGeisha and her bust guns, hip katanas, fried shrimp and disabled guns. Enjoy also the fine voice work of Satan.

I'm a twat.

Hang on I don't know if I'm saying that right. I'm now on Twitter. So I now twat? Is that the right verb? I'm confused. Twat.

http://twitter.com/joshaitken

The land of the free and the money back guarantee - Live from Mars it's Saturday night!

I didn't know that ruling the Earth from Mars made your eye so wonky. But I guess it would be hard to find a good plastic surgeon up there. Just don't look into the eye, look around the eye, or you may end up a smiling follower in your very own 'it's a small world after all' national costume. Although not since the snuggie infomercial have I seen such happy people. Maybe her High Holy Queen of the rings of Uranus is on to something.

Mind flu

Forget swine flu (which is easy as it isn't the dreaded elephant flu) as I have mind flu. Sure you probably won't catch it being date-raped on a P&O Cruise. Or by attending a large gathering at the MCG. But it is just a debilitating, but doesn't come with the sexy face masks. It is a pain in the arse.

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.

Monkey Face

Just ask long time campaigner Dolly Parton, monkey face is a crisis that is now reaching pandemic proportions. Every nine minutes somewhere on earth someone is given a monkey face. (Or in french: visage de singe. Which sounds much nicer than it actually is.) That's a lot of monkey faces. Way too many if you ask me.

Please help us as we aim to raise awareness and move to reduce the incidences of monkey face by half. That's a goal of half a monkey face every nine minutes (with I guess the other half having to wait a further nine minutes - that's some tantric shit).

It does stand to prove one thing though - the french language manages to make anything sound appealing - even monkey face.

Mary & Max

Not since Disney's Lady and the Tramp has an animated film been so moving (see human eye incontinence) and yet deal so effectively with the pitfalls of dog on dog romance. But Mary & Max, Adam Elliot's first full length feature is an achievement, with a great cast and strangely endearing clay visuals (although I always have been partial to play doh). You'll laugh, you'll cry and if you are anything like me you will drop your iPhone in a blackened theatre just after you've turned it on silent (awesome). I'm only giving it four stars mainly because I think the title should've been Max & Mary and not Mary & Max.

The land of the free and the money back guarantee: food exfoliation

Just when I thought that apex of American achievement had been reached with Dreamworks' Hotel for Dogs, along comes the Handy Peel. Never has the process that gives you the holiest of foods - mashed potatoes - been so disturbing. Although it is no where near as off-putting as the carrot sequence. Clasp that carrot. And now scrub rythymically.

The Handy Peel does however leave vegetables looking fresh, ten years younger and virtually pore-free. Yes that I will give them.

Conspiracy Theory: Meetings

Meetings are where creativity, productivity, sanity and the nativity all go to die. They are a massive waste of time. But is there something more sinister behind it all? Yes.

The meeting is a concept developed by a clandestine group of faceless chairmen in 1976 in order to distract the good people of earth. Why distract us? To guarantee that they would be able to halt the progress of technological, social and artistic development of the human race in order to ensure that we remain defenseless from the coming invasion of their giant space slug queen named Sally in the year 3001. It’s a lot to digest (both the concept and the entire human race, but Sally has 12 stomachs and 3 anuses). But we are all just pawns in a game set up by a group of expressionless computerised transvestites who worship a strangely named - morbidly obese - space slug, who has yet to discover a speedy way of coming to our planet in order to feast on our tasty entrails.

There is hope for mankind though. Stop wasting your precious time sitting in rooms talking in acronyms and instead devote yourselves to building slug repelling weapons and death rays. I for one am designing a rissole launcher. Sally will never know what hit her (minced meat).