Now we cross to Tim, live from the streets of fear...

Roving Reporter Tim has sent me an electronic communique with two important things that need to be brought to the attention of the community!
This daring young up & coming journalist has found what Scientists are calling "the greatest Wikipedia Vandalism of all time"
This fine effort on the part of the youth of Australia demonstrate the sheer passion to which we devote ourselves to building a smarter, more literate future! Tally BALLY HO!

Secondly, we have a comic thats' "hilarity is only matched by it's low resolution!
Do I smell a Walkley award?

...

Oh, and here is possibly the stupidest "Did You Know?" from Wikipedia's home page:

"...that plant physiology is the subdiscipline of botany concerned with the function, or physiology, of plants?"

For me, having Did You Know?'s such as this makes my mind stop working for at least 30 minutes. I'd hate to think what would happen to Karyn if she read this, especially so close to Thesis time! Chalk one up for Circular Reasoning!

And now, thanks to Lambie's ire, we are "Proud" to present:

Lily Allen Singing in Simlish!
Yes! (or, as Lambie is saying right now, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!") That's right Kids & Kiddies! It's everyone's favourite Cockney Cow singing in a language made up completely of garbled sounds and cooing! Just when you thought that she couldn't get any more nauseating, TA DA! She trumps your expectations with something even more VILE than you could reasonably expect. Aren't you LUCKY?

(With MASSIVE APOLOGIES TO LAMBIE!)

Brain damaged enough?
Well, how about this?
Does that Frog-Cake look nice? Well, I've got a suprise for you. That Frog-Cake is nothing but ICING. Needless to say, shortly (8.5 minutes later) after eating the cake, my sister did declare "It hurts. It hurts so bad. Oh god, what kind of weirdo makes a cake without cake in it? WHAT KIND OF SICK FREAK DOES THAT?"

Well, dear sister, my answer is thus: "I dunno, you bought the damn thing".

Woe. Woe to us all!

Oh, I forgot to mention that I saw THIS in Germany:

Shame File 1.1(beta): Piecing Together what the HELL happened in Germany,,,

Yes, I'll be the first to admit that I should have figured out what the hell happened to me in Germany all those years ago alot sooner than now. None of you knew me too well back then, which was probably a good thing, when all the facts are considered & weighed.

At least I believe them to be the facts, as there are some missing bits* (*Read: Far too many to be considered healthy in anyone but amnesiacs), but considering the fact that I remember almost nothing about Schoolies, we'll have to wait until I get a Vietnam style flashback to it before tales of hiding from the police with 4 bottles of bourbon in a bush with a girl who had all the beers can be fully explained. Some things, I'm afraid, are destined to remain a mystery.

Germany, however, is different. "Why?", you may ask, "What's different about Germany? Were you less of an inebriate in Germany?". My answer to that would be a reserved "Yes, but not by very much". You see, I kept a bit of a travel diary and took a few photos while I was over there, and I recently found the thing hidden in one of the most secluded places in my humble home (Yes, it had fallen down the back of the bookcase, and I was too lazy to pick it up for about 3-4 years until Mum made me clean up the dust bunnies or face the WRAITH and coughing).

"You've got the diary, so why don't you remember everything?" would be the next question (As opposed to "This Blog's been going down hill since Melon House, you filthy sellout!", which isn't a question at all, but rather a statement, and an ill-informed one at that. So FIE!). I have an explanation for it though: I didn't actually write down everything that happened. I wrote mildly cryptic clues in order to censor it so that upon reading the damn thing it didn't seem like an ill-contrived teen movie. Such as a phrase called "My Favourite Bird is ...", "Where the FECK (Haha, you thought it was a swears, Highlight it for the TRUTH) is my Scooby Doo?"and "The Slide Joke". While I remember that the Humour behind My Favourite Bird was that everyone's Favourite Bird turned out to be flatulence, for the life of me, I cannot remember the infamous Slide Joke. And Judging by the photograph that accompanied it, this is most likely a very VERY VERY good thing. Some things, it seems, we are not meant to know.

"So, what do you remember, you blundering FOOL?" comes the next jarringly insulting question. Well, some things spring to mind, but only because I still have a photograph. Such as this (Figure 1):

Figure 1: It's Mack Time Now!

From what the horrible scrawl in my diary, which looks like it was written at 4 AM in bed with a leaky fountain pen, it seems that during her 18th birthday party, my host, who we shall call "G", was convinced to break out the make outs with another member of the host sisters (Tina, I think, who has come to "Get some ham"). Now, this photo, along with a deep held reluctance to combine Soccer with JXL's "A Little Less Conversation" (the words "Time for Half Time, BITCHES!" keep popping into my head for some bizarre reason) are some of the few memories I have of that night. At least that's how things were until I re-read this bloody diary.
It was all shits & giggles (& long forgotten resentments), until I hit this phrase: "I like Avril Larvine". Now, put down those torches. Before I'm burnt as a witch, I'd like to point out what appears to be a combination of factors that lead to this crime against humanity. Let's see: 3 Hours Sleep + 22 Drinks + "No Hangover" + MTV brainwashing = TERRIBLE THINGS.
Woe. Woe is me.

You're still going to burn me, aren't you?

... MOVING ON!

What else does this horrible tomb contain???
Let's see... references to underage sexual acts committed by "G" which caused her to miss seeing "The King & I", a computer game where you attempt to fornicate with sheep, claims that the sheep game was "tame" with a promise of "I can do much worse than that", and Germany's version of SBS (It stands for Sex Boobs & Soccer, kids!). But here's the kicker: That's just one page of the diary.
As I read further & further in the diary, it becomes more & more fevered.
Things which occur are as follows:
There's a tale of an exploding frizbee, screaming about Sulfurous intestinal tracts (due to drinking nothing but Apple Cider for 2 weeks), "TOLL! SPASS! BRAVO!", being unable to go to the toilet because there was a Toilet FAMILY in the Toilet Block, theft of property, being shouted at for squeaking, going to a Concentration Camp & attempting not to laugh because of the South Park line in my head (Kyle:"Mr Garrison, I can't concentrate in this class" Cartman :"Well, maybe you should send him to concentration camp"), almost killing someone over a game of Ludo, getting depressed about saving 5 cents, "Say Goodbye to Lung Cancer!", "G's" dangerous bipolar behaviour (flipped from High Seduction to Murderous to "You're funny" to "I KILL YOU" at an alarmingly fast rate), putting a firework in a bottle, lighting said firework, having said bottle fall over, having the firework fire across a square, and exploding over the other side of the square on some dudes, more innuendo than you can poke a stick at (Intentional innuendo? MAYBE...), & the horrible list goes on & on & on.

Anyway, the problem is that I don't actually remember most of the happening. Except for one thing.
Which would be waking up, noticing that I was wearing substantially less than I had gone to bed with, and hearing a sound which resembled "G's" giggles running down the stairs.

In short, she stole my underwear.

HERE ENDETH THE LESSON: Some people are nice, some people are mean, and some people will steal your clothes while you sleep.

The Shame File Issue 1: Music

As most of you would know (or assume), I have a fairly large music collection. A quick glance at WinAmp tells me I have 19,702 MP3's as of September 18, 2007. As all MP3 collections go, there are good, and there are bad albums. Ones downloaded by mistake that you couldn't be bothered deleting because it wasn't bad enough to inspire hate, only apathy. You probably have assumed that I'm going to talk about things I'm ashamed of. Well, I might as well, or you could sue me for false advertising through some clause or whatnot. I present to you, gentle reader, two images:
The first, above, is a picture to give you an idea of the size of my personal CD collection. For every cover you see, there's about 7 -9 extra CD's under it. That's over 250 CD's. I don't know exactly how many, but it's more than I care to count. "Mighty Impressive" you might say, followed by "But are they all the kind of Cracking, High Quality CHEWNS that we've come to expect from an audiophile such as yourself?".
Well, no.
"Gimme an example"
Ok.
Here we go:
Congratulations! This is the only album that I'm actually ashamed to own. "But Le Tigre are an awesome band! They had that Deceptacon song on JJJ about 2-3 years ago!". See, I was thinking I was buying something worthwhile. Something like the awesomeness I'd heard on JJJ. No. This is not the awesomeness. This is what happens when you get a bug, an extra from Little Britian, and Lizard Girl together. You get untuned guitars, off-key singing, a mix that sounds like it was done by an inebriate, and a big kick in the Gonads. I thought I was buying what I heard on JJJ, but no. I'd bought a world of aural pain. Yet according to some, it's a good album. It's only good if you want all your organs to attack your brain for allowing this horrendous mess to be within listening distance of your body.
And yet I own it.
Every time I see this horrid little CD, I get a feeling of despair. It's a reminder to us all, to never buy a CD if you're not sure of what's on it. Because you may cry & go "nooooooooooooooooooooo", just like I have.
Shame. Shame. Shame.

On the flip side, I could always talk about Albums that everyone I've played it to has asked me if I've actually got ears under that curly 'fro of mine. Ones such as Amon Tobin. My dear Girlfriend would protest anything left of center with music I said with the phrase "But you like weird stuff, like Amon Tobin! Machines & BEES!". That argument worked until I played her "Nova" No bees in that one. Only smooth smooth chocolately lovin'... errr... Anyway! The following is a little favourite of mine that would be universally loathed by the majority. Depends on how much you like games about old men who can do the splits up a wall.
Anyway, I'm sure that, if you're anything like me, you've run out of attention. Although I've got the memory of a dried trout, and Matt tells me that, on the topic of this blog "It was good until the maths", followed by "WTF is a Merkin?" (It's a Pubic Wig, Kiddies!) I still have some half-baked ideas and plenty of horror to share with the lot of you!
Hooray for Intertubes 1.5!
-Modern Woman (Big props to Tim!)

Just when you thought it was safe to have faith in humanity again...

E & S Rage in Pictorial Form

I thought I'd post a few screenshots of the stats I have in Excel.

Figure 1: The three different sections of the stats, in all their tabulated glory. But wait, what's this? "Raw Skew"? Nothing to see here, move along.... Because the entire sheet's empty. No one's played the "no swapping cards" version to warrant putting anything in there yet.

Figure 2: Here's how I'm recording seating positions. It means that the method of designating Seat 1 isn't really all that important.

Figure 3: Yes, the legends are true. I have error bars.