The land of the free and the money back guarantee - worst Halloween costume ever

America is a wild and wonderful place where shampoo comes by the gallon, guns are legal (and often offered up to house guests as a courtesy - true story). And yet strangely carrying your mobile phone anywhere but firmly clipped to the belt of your pants is a federal offence. One that carries the heavy penalty - a week in the audience of The View. Cripes.

Which is most likely the fate that these failed robbers will have to look forward to. The po-po pulled them over only to discover that these criminal masterminds had coloured Alicia Silverstone's Batgirl mask on their faces with permanent marker.

I mean come on. If you are going to colour your face for a disguise at least show some intellect. Buy a few extra colours and try your hand at a Spiderman, Wolverine, or a Hannah Montana mask. I know which one would be scarier for your victims.

People of Sydney: Humpy Dumpy repairman

Humpy Dumpy wears his pants high.

Whatever Works

Woody Allen is well noted for his flaws and self-indulgences, like playing himself in every film, or more recently in casting Hugh Jackman and Javier Bardem to play him. I mean Jackman isn't even married to his own daughter. In fact I think Debra Lee Furness is actually his mother.

But in a welcome return to form (and more realistic self-casting in the ever acerbic Larry David) Whatever Works, well, works. That is of course unless you were the aged-pensioners sitting behind me in the Monday matinee showing. They were none to pleased with Allen's fourth-wall-breaking-direction.

Daughter marrying and reproducing or not, at least he doesn't looks as scary as Mia Farrow.

A Pirate's Bounty

I can't tell you exactly where I got this rare and valuable pirate treasure from (think mermaids, ninjas and a cantelope) but it is a gem of the deep. A piece from a Pirate's booty. A treasure long lost to mankind (alien's would've found it as they love to probe).

I'm thinking about putting this lost piece of currency on ebay. But if you want to make an offer, I'd be willing to take $8 billion or a bowl of North Bondi Italian's crab spaghetti and a wristy. You know which ever is easier for you. Let me know.

YouTube what did I do without you?

You promise, really promise to watch this?

The Swiss-Grand my arse!

To quote my good friend Ginger Steve, "Tell me what is Swiss or Grand about the Swiss-Grand in Bondi?" The little men couldn't give us an answer as they threw us all out of Tez's room. At least she and Laura got a tobogen run in (with the help of Big Al). Unfortunately Steve didn't get his bath. I think he's still dirty. Who wants to stay at the Piss-Bland anyway?

People of TV: Cruella de Coal

The ABC's Q&A can be informative, involving, illicit, illegitimate and in-vitro, but it can also occasionally put a face to the nefarious 'Thank you for Smoking' lobbyists that populate government halls.

The land of the free and the money back guarantee: 15 minutes of shame

HOLY SHIT!

This is why you should never buy your boozed mother a webcam. Check out Tengobaila, a YouTube channel that shows off this woman’s ‘dancing’ skills. She is insane. Her face sometimes dances separately to her body. And her body always dances separately to the music. In her profile she declares she has ‘no race or age’ and ‘no allegiance to imaginary borders or countries.’ I guess the question is what good-medicine is she on, and how can I get some?

Her tributes to MJ are of the highest order (you may also notice that she likes to start each of her videos with a money shot):

YouTube what did I do without you?

Fill two minutes of your employer’s time by watching this baby do his thing to Beyoncé (or as my Grandma calls her, "The Fiancée"). Speaking of my Grandmother she used to say, “You’ve got the devil in you today.” Although these days she just texts me about films she’s seen, “Inglorious Basterds – gory.”

Just watch the baby (the hand shake is my favourite) and pray that Calista Flockhart doesn’t get any ideas.

The land of the free and the money back guarantee: 1784 billion, trillion dollars

Some mofo (called Dalton?!) in the US is suing the Bank of America for 1784 billion, trillion human dollars. That’s more coin than the whole world has. 1784 billion, trillion dollars? Why with that kind of money Tori Spelling could almost afford to get her pole-boobs fixed.

He is so going to win. Why didn’t I think of this first? Probably because I just went to use an orange instead of my mouse.

Yeah that probably explains a lot. Read about Denny Crane's next case here. Although with a name like Dalton he should be suing his parents for a sextillion dollars.

If I won this case I would want to be paid in Cook Island dollars as they feature a nude woman riding a shark. Sick.

The Hotel of Doom Returns

I can only imagine the party at North Korea's National Steven Segal Museum (NSSM to locals) to celebrate the fact that the long maligned Hotel of Doom is now covered in glass on one of its three facades. Sure it is still the biggest fuck up in the history of pyramid shaped fuck ups, and is still highly unstable, un-occupiable and the hottest group sex spot for Pyongyang's pigeon population, but from this one angle it no longer has to be retouched out of the skyline on official postcards.

Apparently North Korean government types are going to wait and see if the glass remains in place before tackling the now shunned east and west faces of the building. The Hotel of Doom will never be used for anything but pigeon porn unless Kim Jong Il can find $2 billion dollars for the works structural works required. Something I believe he could do by selling his interests in the En Vogue back catalogue.

One thing I did however discover is that North Korea officially classes itself as a democracy. An interesting position for a state that hasn't held elections since its inception. Jong Il does love North Korea Idol though, so perhaps that's why the winners keep ending up as ministers in his government?

Learn more about this great marvel here.

People of Sydney: The dangers of eating at 11pm

A late post-work snack turned into an auditory experience as the three people at the table next to me blabbed loudly, sang show tunes and delivered a piece of real human dialogue that not even the Japanese government's cyborg amalgamation of The Coeh Brothers, Tarantino and Hunter S. Thompson could write. You just can't make something like that up.

Ingoriest Basterds

Any film that involves strudel, the consumption of strudel or Kevin Kostner normally tanks at the box office (see Message in a Bottle, The Postman, Tin Cup and Waterworld). But luckily for the genre-raiding self-referencing genius of Quentin Tarantino (not to be confused with Her Excellency Quentin Bryce AO - her films normally feature way more gore and language that can't be shown in a general release) this strudel curse seems to be lifted by his latest effort Inglourious Basterds.

Despite it's slightly bloated running length the film is funny, gory, heavy on Nazi scalping (as opposed to the Nazi bikini waxing of Fran Drescher's underrated The Fanny series of telemovies) and filled with tension. The opening scene in the farmhouse is cracking. But the film would be nothing without the talents of Christoph Waltz. Man that dude can act. Comedy. Villainy. Strudel eating. He can do it all.

My scalps off to you Mr. Waltz. (See what I did there?)

People of Sydney: The Oyster Bar, David Jones Foodhall

These unearthly beauties were perched mid-week at the Oyster Bar having an 'excuse my beauty' lunch. David Lynch would've cast them on the spot (and then made them kiss and chase each other in owl outfits on film).

Anvil the Story of Anvil

Sometimes inspiration comes to you in unexpected forms; like when Michael Jackson's image appeared to an obese American family in the bark of one of their trees; or in unexpected happenings; like the fact that America managed to elect President Obama (despite that fact that some confusingly accuse him of being a fascist, a communist, a socialist - and some how all three very differing ideologies all at the same time - and oh the fact he is, well, erm, you know, how do I say this without offending anyone? From Hawaii).

But Anvil the Story of Anvil is also one of those occasions. See it. You will laugh at the real Spinal Tapness of it all. You will cry at the strong man-love bond between Lips and Robb. And you will be inspired to hang on to your dream and make that shiznit happen (even if it takes you 30 years to get there).

Be 108% more successful in conference calls - rad combinations

Conference calls are almost more evil than the long fabeled devil spawn of Rush Limbaugh and Jennifer Lopez (it will eat your soul - much like Nick Cave - but also raid your medicine cabinent for prescription medication. All while it shakes its ample booty). But until R-Lo ends all our lives as we know it, conference calls have to be endured and survived.

The best way? Give yourself over to an A2 layout pad and see what happens. The theme here - rad combinations.

People of Sydney: Glamour at the Hilton

The above great beauty is a 60ish year old woman in a aqua fur coat and volumous red mane (some of it her's, some of the remaining thatch of someone's merkin) who I observed marching through the lobby of the Hitlon.

It's all the moon's fault

Being up at 1am on a Sunday morning has its benefits. Like neighbours love it when you clean your house in the middle of the night and all the infomercials you can eat.

But it was on TV that I discovered this strange gem. Can't say Shakira is anyone I have ever really paid much attention too. And I am not so sure about the music (but then again I don't speak alien-vagine [see below] so the message she's spreading could be important), but this video was therapeutic.

It does leave me asking a few things however. Like why is she inside the sparkly-flesh-vagina of a large alien? If this is the dress code of the occupants of such a place, where do I get an invite? And how does Shakira manage to combine the moves of an exotic dancer with the out of time spasming of the homeless shemale I pass everyday on my way to work?



One hunch is that it is all caused by the psychotropic fumes of the alien tuna canoe.