Maitland: It's worse than you could imagine, but at least it's not Cessnock

I swear that the shineola hole of a town that I live on the outskirts of gets worse by the day. Sure, it's a rare night at work when you don't have a bike gang member come into the shop, and order something that you have to question his sexuality about (for all those who have worked in a bar, consider the following comparison: Chuck Norris walks in and asks for an Apple Tini. Scary, no?), or worse. Like being sent on a mission into (Te)'NAM(bit) where the crime rate is so high you slash your own tires just to make sure that the meth-heads won't steal your (apparently) sweat ride (even if it is a beaten up student car with more dents in it than anyone would care to count).
Maitland: the town where people pick up used cigs & then smoke the filter; the town where the mall has more cockroaches each night than Merewether High School has over an entire year; land of enchantment and cars on fire (If only I was kidding). It's also the only place where I've seen someone drive a red car with lime green hubcaps. I'd take a photo, but it would melt the lens. If you ever need to regurgitate poison (or just half-cooked meat), all you need to do is seek out this vehicle, and your body will be cleansed.

When I went to school here, there were several houses around. Three were Meth-labs, one was filled with Ghosts! (actually rats & cats & pigeons) and the other was run but a bat shit mental lady who's only obsession was with Grug.

The caretaker of the City Hall got arrested for growing Pot on the roof.

I saw a dude watching Porn in the office of Retrovision one night. On the projector which made it clearly visable from the streets.

... and I wish I was making any of this up.

Of course it has it's charms. Like the bridge where people play strip poker semi-regularly, or the Water Works that costs $20 to merely get in to the grounds (and it's not even a place of booze & fornication, like Fanny's (but the people there are just as obnoxious)).

Argh. I feel that the mini-keg has had it's desired effect.
I'll cease with the bitching, and hopefully bring you, avid readers, tales of woe & hilarity in the near future. I might even tell you about schoolies (providing, of course, that I get a Vietnam style flashback to it again).

Until then: DESPAIR!

Alternatively: Listen to some rare Hendrix

... and Seb did say "Hell Yeah!"

... and he looked upon the interweb, and found it lacking.
It is on this fine day that a young man did decide that prior attempts at "humour" had fallen flat. So, in order to make something that would be more successful (Ha ha, yeah right. This is going to fail like those Michelson-Morley morons), not fall flatter than the cat of little worth (See Figure 1), and to tailor to the authors famously short attention span (SHUT UP PIPPA), the "blog" was envisioned.

(Figure 1)

Take note, gentle reader, that I did willingly sacrifice a whole 13 minutes of my valuable time (time I could spend finding pictures like in Figure 2, or fornicating) to create this thing of beauty, wit, and refinement.

(Figure 2)

Wait, did I actually write that? Like hell this is going to be refined. It's gonna be a solid gold sandwich. Pretty, but worthless!

Yay!
Oh, and at least it isn't MySpace.