Updating whether I like it or not.

So, I like to write.

And not in the angryman ranting sense you see me produce day after day in the twitterverse and the occasional blog, I mean I actually like to write stories, short tales and comics and whatnot.

The problem is, nobody knows this except 2 people, myself, and my hetero life mate Rhys over at The Plastic Age.

I've been writing stories for nearly 7 years now, but I'm my own worst critic, I'll start on a really great idea, then convince myself the writing is shit and put it on a shelf, and start again. Recently I've seen how much excellent work Rhys has done with his website and his latest opus "Riverside" and I couldn't' help but feel a little bit let down by my own insecurities.

I need to get my writing out there in the public, so everyone can pick at it and take large e-dumps on my work. I know it sounds bad, but it will help me improve

So that's my pledge, to publish more of my short stories and comic ideas, and I'd love all the feedback, no matter how insulting it is.

I'll try to post something writing related here once a week, which is a tough goal for me, since I can never come to a decision about what to eat for breakfast most days. Today I had cereal and chips. On that note, don't vote for the Smiths Buttered Popcorn flavour.

Open Letter to the Man on the Train

Firstly, fuck you.

I've been catching the train to work for a year now, and I can count the number of incidents I've had on the train on one hand.

- Old grump tried to pick a fight with me, eventually sat down.

- 2 druggies attack some guy who couldn't speak english, I sort it out.

There they are, a year of train travel and two incidents that fizzled out relatively quickly.

And now it's the last day of work before my 2 week break and some jittery drugged up cunt and/or career criminal hard man decides to make it a bad day. And that person is you.

I saw you when I got on the train at my stop, sitting at the end of the carriage on the three person bench, I thought nothing of it besides that is where I usually sit. But whatever, people are always sitting in my usual seat, my name isn't on it. So I find a seat further into the carriage.

Now we're approaching the last stop before mine, and the train is packed, I know that the next stop has at least an extra 15 people and the seat i'm in is woefully small given my height and weight, so I decide to sit on the far end of your bench, I think nothing of it, as it is a prime position for anyone who wants a little bit of space.

Countless people have sat in that space when I was in the position you were in, and I haven't said a word, it's polite to allow people to sit where they choose, considering the train is packed and the stop is metres away, I take my place on the bench.

This is where you strike up some friendly conversation with me, do you remember? You asked if the next stop was mine, and I said no, my stop is 20 minutes away. I then ask about your stop, continuing the pleasant banter that two people enjoy on the train sometimes.

But instead of answering my question you reply with a statement. Do you remember what you said my friend? I'm sure you don't, as you were wiry and on edge, no doubt some narcotic was coursing through your veins, or you were "jonesing" for a fix after the long train ride.

"I'm sitting here" you told me, which baffled me for two reasons, 1) I knew that already, and 2) you couldn't be more than 5 foot 4, and the bench is built for 3 people, so with a puzzled look in my eye I asked ".. the whole seat?".

That is when you must have mistook my "the whole seat?" with "I fucked your mother in the arse and then shot her through the brain and took a shit on your dog" because you flew into a tirade at me, a man twice your weight with a full foot over you too.

"FUCK OFF THE FUCKING SEAT, I'M SITTING ON THE FUCKING SEAT", I can only imagine what the other passengers were feeling, especially the seniors tour group that were so happily enjoying conversation with each other in the carriage.

Now I'm not one to fight, although I'm a large aggressive looking fellow I deplore violence, and I saw no benefit in fighting someone like you over a thing as trivial as a train seat, so I moved.

But sir, you really need to take a look at yourself in the mirror one day, and while you look deep into your own eyes I want you to do me a favour. Just a small favour really, but I'd appreciate it if you helped me out on this one.

I want you to take a knife, any knife will do, and insert it, with force, into your neck.

Thank you.

Cityrail: Sanity's Nemesis.

I'm 5 minutes into my train ride home and I've lost all motivation to do anything. It's a 3 hour train ride to and from work, which means I spend a quarter of my work week sitting on the train. If you let it get to you it will take over you and engulf any sense of happiness you ever had. I'm in fear of that happening right now, so I'm writing this entry as a method of keeping sane.

Normally I have distractions from the beast that is the bleak void. My Nintendo DS is always full of new interesting games of varying genres, my laptop has work and personal projects and movies for watching, and my ipod is almost always packed with music made before the 1987. But tonight it's different, I was caught unprepared.

I started this day full of hope, the plan was to knock out a bunch of work so I could concentrate on this game I'm working on. But I hit a wall about an hour into my work day in the form of missing assets. The client had recently sent a tonne of audio, stock images and updated briefs so I can finish the final stage of this project, but everything I planned to tackle had more missing assets the client overlooked. I was forced to rummage through files, paperwork and emails to make sure the error wasn't at my end. And when it wasn't I had to submit tickets into the client's tracking software so they could get the message. It's all very bureaucratic and red tape-ish but in the end it gets things done.

45 minutes from the end of the day I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror at work and I was hit with a powerful surge of self-loathing and hatred. Although my tweets and blog entries say otherwise, I'm normally a really cheerful guy always having a laugh, but every now and then I get a big chunk of depression that hits me like a donkey punch from a rough lover.

It's now 15 minutes into my train ride but for the sake of coherency I'll start my log at T minus 5 minutes.

T-5: Standing at the platform feeling like utter shit, a pretty young thing walks past and the inner caveman in me directs my eyes at her assets, she has a mini skirt with less material than a handkerchief and high heeled boots that meet them halfway. I notice several other men having a look, all in their late 60's, I feel dirty. I wish I was home with my wife.

T+2: My train is no-where to be seen, there is track work this week but I'm sure the departure time was unchanged, I try to revisit that period of time in my head, I notice that instead of 'PM' I was looking at the 'AM', a 4 in the morning train isn't going to help me much.

T+7: Panic is starting to set in, I notice some people on the platform but assume they're here for another train, the monitor says my train is standing on the platform, I being to think how unnecessary invisible trains will be, but they sound pretty cool, would the passengers be invisible too? Or would it appear that they're flying in a sitting position?

T+8: Train arrives on the platform, panic leaves my body

T+15: I stare out the window at the people walking past to get into the train.

T+18: I stare out the window at the people running like Olympic sprinters to get into the train as the conductor is blowing his whistle, I chuckle.

T+23: I finish every article in the free newspaper given out at stations, it's a collection of articles they stole of news.com.au, cracked.com and digg.com, with some text messages thrown in from commuters complaining about or trying to hook up with other commuters.

T+24: I turn on my Nintendo DS, the red power light greets me with a hearty glow, I forgot to charge my DS.. panic begins to surge.

T+28: Booting up my PC I open some work files only to find I left the brief at work.

T+35: I finish all the changes I can remember and close the file, I look for the latest episode of Dexter on my laptop to watch it

T+36: Invalid Codec error #98EF009, a subtle swear is mouthed.

T+40: The train stops at an inner city station, an older woman physically shifts my legs out of the way to sit next to me, woman is apparently mute or unable to say the words "excuse me"

T+44: After staring at my monitor for 4 minutes I browse my "amusing" folder, a collection of GIFs and jpegs I save from the interbutts for the lulz, browsing the funny images usually supplies me with a nice distraction

T+46: a pornographic gif had somehow made it's way into my "amusing" folder, no doubt sent in an email from one of my more lowbrow high school friends, it plays fullscreen. I fumble to hit ALT+F4 to close it, but my laptop has a function key that needs to be pressed for the F keys to work, all I succeed in doing is increasing the brightness of the screen, therefore increasing the brightness of the woman pleasing the man in such a way that tells you she must be a gymnast.

T+49: my heart is now beating at it's normal rate, the woman has since moved, luckily her muteness remained intact as she walked out of the carriage in a huff. I think about what just happened and chuckle, I delete the GIF, still unsure how I got it, must have been hidden in a ZIP full of otherwise wholesome comedy files.

T+55: If the train derailed now, would I survive? I move to another seat that appears to other more safety, I stare out the window but as it's dark the only thing I can see is a closeup of my nose.

T+68: everyone who is sane has got off the train at Gosford. The plan is to move there, funnily enough though I'm finding I have very little time to inspect houses and organise my affairs. I wish I had wireless Internet, but I'm not going to spend 80 dollars on a 100mb "starter kit" from a man who calls himself "Crazy John".

T+69: I remember Crazy John died a few years ago

T+73: no.. Dead John's wouldn't be a good name for a pirate themed fast food restaurant.

T+80: I have been staring into space for the last 6 minutes, but I have been unaware that the "space" i was staring at was in the same direction as another man, he seems uncomfortable I've been staring at him. I resist the urge to wink at him.

T+83: I knock my pen drive out of the laptop, I bend to pick it up, I hear footsteps as I reach it and turn my head, I'm now looking up the miniskirt of the girl I saw earlier as she descends from the higher lever in the train. Passengers definitely think I'm a pervert. Lucky for me they're all getting off at this station, I'll shave my beard and wear a new beanie tomorrow so they don't know it was me.

T+85: come to think of it, I didn't see anything when I looked up her skirt, it was so fast and I closed my eyes straight away, wonder if I should have left my eyes open because people assumed I looked anyway... now I think I'm a pervert.... I chuckle and feel sad at the same time.

T+86: oh yeah the carriage is empty bar me and this red haired girl so always catches my train, I think about one day saying hello as we're always the last in this carriage but considering my track record with ladies tonight and my wife's reaction when she reads this blog, I decide that night isn't tonight.

T+89: This is the part of the train ride I dread. A man in a tracksuit, reeking of cigarettes slinks past my seat, obviously staring at my laptop screen, I tense up and make a fist with my left hand, one day someone will try to mug me, I pray to god they're prepared for the fight I'll put up for it. it wouldn't be the first time I've gotten into a fight on the train.

T+90: the skeezy little man has all the seats in the world to sit on, but he chooses to sit directly behind the red haired girl. fucking great, I'm setting my laptop into sleep mode and stashing it in my bag for now, just in case I need to get involved.

T+113: I sat closer to the red haired girl and the man, I made sure he knew I was there. She just got off at her station without incident. The man shuffles off to the next carriage. I don't follow him, I know there are only 6 other people in this stretch of carriages and they're all veterans of the 3 hour commute, they can handle themselves.

T+125: If I kicked a car as it drove past.. will it hurt my foot? or will it be the same as if I kicked a stationary car?

T+130: doing todays puzzler in the newspaper, "a retail worker who likes to yacht"

T+131: "Sailsman"

T+150: 2 larger men reeking of cigarettes talking loudly came in 15 minutes ago, I quickly put my laptop away and got into combat mode. They asked me for a lighter which I said I did not have, I fucking hate these bogan train dwellers.

T+174: Writing this blog actually helped pass the time. I'm sane for another day.

T+208: Okay the train has been sitting 1km out from my station for the last 30 minutes, what the fuck? The driver keeps pleading his apologies and informs us that the signal failure will hopefully be fixed soon. at T+175 I got up and moved to the end of the carriage ready to get out and this bogan starts talking to me. I've now heard his life story about how he lost his job and his wife left him after rehab... it would make a great country music single I'm sure, all I can say is "yeah?","o shit","faaaark". Luckily for me I know the language and can speak fluent bogan.

Eventually the train arrives at the station and I feel compelled to call in sick to work tomorrow.

A Tale of Poor Management

Everyone who has ever had a job has had a bad boss, it's a given. And usually the worse the job the worse the boss. I was first introduced to the world of poor management when I started my working life at the minimum age in my state, 14 years and 9 months.

My father has always been big on the phrase "if you don't have a job then you're a drain on society" so despite my wishes to watch Pokemon and Wrestling, I was forced to trudge the 2km walk to work every Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon to earn my 6 dollars an hour. The job itself wasn't hard, just monotonous, as all grocery store jobs are.

Like Jim from The Office I did the minimum amount of required work in order to stay just above being fired, and that's the way I liked it. I started on checkouts, standing up for 6 hours isn't for everyone, and it certainly wasn't for me, so when I got recorded as the slowest checkout operator ever to work there they moved me to shelf stacking, where I was in my element.

You see, I'm an organisation freak, I love stacking things and sorting my goods into perfect order. If you ever glanced at my "xxx" file on my computer you'd find I have an intricate filing system to maximise masturbatory efficiency.

I was king of the "face up", where every night we went up and down the aisles, relocating misplaced goods, and stacking everything up so it looked like the shelves were fully stocked. I was always in the tinned foods aisles, I freaking loved stacking tins....

I probably could have picked my lifelong career then and there, as back in my early days "aiming high" wasn't in my vocabulary. Luckily for me however, my boss was a complete and utter tool.

Nigel was a man in his mid 40's, worked out at the gym enough to have a body most mid40's men didn't, a combination of muscle and sag. And he sported a long greasy ponytail, which I assume was a deep brown colour when he started it, but by the time I met him the end of the long length of hair was dead and grey.

Nigel was your typical middle aged man trying to act half his age. He would brag about women he'd pick up, and yammer on about the nightclubs and fights he got into there. To any other 14yr old boy I'd assume Nigel would be some sort of hero and cool dude to look up to. But to me Nigel was nothing more than a sad old man trying to capture his wasted youth.

He was also a big fan of jokes, really really stupid jokes. And being the boss I wasn't sure if I was supposed to laugh or tell him his jokes were stupid... I tried the latter and coincidentally I was working the night shift for the next two weeks.

But all in all Nigel did what he was supposed to, and that was work hard and get the young kids to do the shitty jobs. And although he was a failure as a person, he was perfectly fine for a shift boss. He just happened to be an unfunny douche bag who took naps in the storage closet and made a song about milk using only the word milk.

The next horrible boss I had was a guy named Wayne when I worked a thrilling 2 days as a telemarketer during a brief unemployed stint in my life. Wayne was the type of person who had a really shitty job to begin with, but he was in his element in that turd. Wayne was the self proclaimed messiah of telemarketing, and was convinced you could call people at work or home, and sell them a holiday.

To quote his introductory speech to the new batch of recruits: "this fucking holiday.. is a fucking good deal, if I wasn't too fucking busy selling fucking holidays I'd fucking buy one".

In all honesty the holiday was reasonably cheap, but it was to a place I've never heard of and the limitations were annoying, you had to pay for the holiday on your credit card, but couldn't go on it for at least 4 months, and it was for 4 or 2 adults and 2 children plus it had to take place on a weekend in March when the moon was full after a virgin sacrifice to Ra, the sun god, was made.

Wayne loved to swear, and intimidate, he was in the position where he knew 75% of all new recruits would give up by the end of the week, so he decided the best course of action was to cut formalities and treat everyone like shit, which was a bad move for Wayne because my wife was one of the new recruits too. And she was one of the people selected for a berating when she couldn't follow the poorly spelt and grammatically incorrect "script" we were to read from, that went along the lines of this.

"Hello, I'm of here to sell you a holiday"

*please wait 3 seconds for confirmation from answerer or the phone being slammed down*

"This is a great deal, oh wow I wish I could buy this deal, it's for for to .

*please wait 3 seconds for confirmation from answerer or the phone being ripped out of the socket*

It only costs on your credit card *avoid most details till we have their card number*

It was a stupid script that reeked of scam, and once he had a go at about 7 people, the missus included, I decided that this job was not for me and every second Wayne wasn't near me I altered the script to something a bit more forward:

"G'day, I'm selling cheap holidays, want one?"

I sold 4 holidays using the Tom method, I should be a fucking marketer.

At that point in my life I had gone through 5 jobs, and the 2 I enjoyed the least were the 2 with bad bosses. I didn't think about the connection for a while but it took 1 more job to help me see the light.

It was my last semester at university and I had recently proposed to my fiance, we were living together in a little house and I had just finished a contract with not a bad boss, but an incompetent moron who liked to "fudge" financial numbers and "forgot" to tell me that tax wasn't taken out of my pay. So the government hit me with a chunky bill which my student centrelink payments couldn't afford.

I went in search of work to all manner of places, and was turned down mostly because of my university hours and age, why hire a 22yr old when you can hire a 15yr old for nearly half the pay?

On the bus to uni I noticed a sign makers business that had changed their sign slightly to say "we do web design!" and I thought "hell yeah", I rang them up, and although they weren't hiring I managed to bombard them with a sexy resume and a can-do attitude and got a position as a graphic designer / sign installer.

The boss was a weasel from the get go. Let's call him Bob.

On my first day Bob hit me up with a 40 page contract which outlined the following

- The position I was being paid for had no set "award" and therefore he could pay me whatever the fuck he wanted

- He decided to pay me 2 dollars less than what I'd earn as a new recruit at McDonald's

- My position was classed as "casual" yet required me to work 8.5 hours a day, 6 days a week

- because I was casual I was not entitled to holidays or sick days

- Lunch was 20 minutes and I must eat lunch in the lunch room, which was a corner in the office with 2 chairs facing each other, making every lunch uncomfortable and awkward.

Did I mentioned that when I worked on weekends I wasn't being paid for it? Bob sent me to a "mandatory" public speaking class so I could "interact with clients better", and he paid for it, but I had to work to pay him back. He also paid for a year long gym membership for me because I had to lose weight, I don't really know why I had to though.. but I had to work to pay back that too.

So from the get go Bob shot up to the top of the list of bad bosses. He was controlling little weasel of a man who squeezed the life out of me, I wanted to quit, but there was a lack of jobs in the area at the time, and I was juggling my job with uni and my soon to be married life.

Working at the sign place wasn't a complete drag, when he left me alone (he had a habit of looking over my shoulder when I worked) I managed to belt out some decent designs that the clients loved, and I also started working with a high school kid on the Saturdays who is now one of my closest friends. we had laughs at times, but most of them were nervous "laugh or you might get fired" laughs.

* Let me take a break from this article.. I'm sitting on the train writing and the woman behind me is slurping from a milk carton.. a fucking 1 litre milk carton... STOP FUCKING SLURPING, YOU'RE 60 YEARS OLD NOT 4. SHE'S BEEN SLURPING FOR 10 MINUTES NOW, IT SOUNDS LIKE A LIZARD TAKING A SHIT*

About 4 months into my job I began to see a side in Bob that was a tad creepy, I had heard he had a string of former employees that left for reasons unknown, when I asked why he didn't answer and dodged the question, especially when I asked about a former female employee.

It all started one day when this guy who sometimes worked with us on sign installs rang up and asked if I wanted a job with him, I didn't really know the guy so I was a bit hesitant, he was a nice guy but worked about 25km's out from where I lived and I didn't own a car at the time. When I told Bob he rang I was ordered to never talk to him again and not to let him into the building.

A few days later we all received an email saying that this guy had talked to a previous female employee, and now he knew "all Bob's dirty little secrets". At first I thought nothing of it, and put it down to the guy trying to piss Bob off.. but as the weeks went on more and more came to light.

Two weeks later Bob was talking about hiring some new staff and asked if I could clean up his old computer to prepare it for a new employee, While I was uninstalling some crap off the machine I browsed the net, went to some news websites etc, and the Internet explorer crashed when I was reading an interesting article. So when I reloaded the browser I went into the history tab to find that article and instead found something much more interesting... 99% of all the websites in the history tab were pornographic websites. And after a small amount of searching I found an epic stash of pornography on the hard drive.

While browsing for porn isn't illegal, it's just unprofessional, and a few days later when I came to him with a new client project I noticed he had porn open on his machine as he fumbled to close the window. I pretended I didn't notice but inside I was starting to get a little bit creeped out, after sign installs he'd sometimes walk around without a shirt on, and we were the only 2 people there.. and he's definitely not the type of person who can get away with being shirtless.

My limit was reached one Thursday afternoon when Bob and his wife came to me, and asked if I would mind if they installed a security camera to watch the new female employees, because apparently one of the last employees, a female, sued Bob for sexual harassment and he didn't do anything. After everything I found and witnessed though, I was more than sure he was capable of something like that.

I managed to track down the girl and find out her story, Bob had taken her to a conference in a city and given the distance from home he had set up a hotel room for the night, with 2 beds as you'd assume. She went to bed when he was in the shower, and 10 minutes later she found herself in bed with a hairy short man in his underwear, at which point she freaked out and ran out of the hotel to sleep in his car. The next day Bob kicked her out, gave her money for the train, and left her there. And fired her 2 days later citing a "conflict of interest".

Around that time I had graduated, and using my fancy new degree I managed to land a job in a much better field of programming, being paid more than double with full time benefits. I told Bob I was going to the doctors one afternoon, and never came back.

All names have been changed for legal reasons.

Supanova 2009

Last weekend I joined my handsome male partner Rhys over at www.the-plastic-age.com at Supanova, it was the first time I've ever been to Australia's pop culture expo and I enjoyed every minute of it.

There were booths for video games, comics, anime, alternative boobie art and tshirts 2 sizes too small for the average fan. There was wrestling, cosplay, movie screenings.. you name it.

And like my last blizzcon review I took plenty of photos, here are some select gems with associated commentary.

The AMD girls "cosplayed" as the latest AMD character logo. The black kid behind her is enjoying the bump-mapping on her rear engine.

This seriously was the most crowded the BEN10 booth was the entire day, even the guy hired to look after the booth was in the food court chatting up teenagers.


Two police officers get a photo oppurtunity with Gary Busey.


A trio of suave gents if I ever saw one, I feel bad for the guy in the middle, with that haricut you can only pull off 2 looks.. "Jedi Master" and "Unemployed ex postal worker". The guy on the right told me his suit cost 600 dollars all up. He also told me he wasn't married. I'm sure the two are unrelated.


Ever since the Iraq war the army recruiting drives have suffered. These two fine fellas here are fresh from boot camp... by boot camp I mean the local bus station.


Here we have two young people who appear to be cosplaying as a mid 40's british couple on a weekend caravan holiday.


SUPER FALAFEL BROTHERS!!!


Why stay at home and play Warcraft when you can come to Supanova... and .. play Warcraft.


Simpsons characters are always fun to dress as, the yellow skin however can take time to apply, luckily this guy has psoriasis of the liver, giving his face a natural yellow glow. Also adding delightful irony to his choice of the alcholoic spokesman character.


I thought this guy came to Supanova as a zombie, but it turns out there was a makeup booth applying fake injuries to attendees, so I now have a photo of some disgruntled man.


In this photo: 3 social misfits.


Burton-era Batman, Schumacher-era Robin and Nolan-era Joker hit me up with some generic posing, the Batman gave me the thumbs up after I took the photo, it made me smile... then I felt like a tool.


Somebody came as a D Battery


I suppose the advantage of having a large pasty back would be turning it into a canvas for epic tattoos, then ruin it with Brent Spiner's face.


MUTHERFUCKING SHOE! Hayden is the only person I know who can appear loud without actually making any noise.


Two of the AWF wrestlers that appeared at Supanova, "Football fan wog" and "Jeff the Council worker"


Two AWF wrestlers show the girls of Supanova a home method for abortions.


I guess they don't teach "smiling 101" at wrestling school. The guy looks like he's passing a kidney stone.


HOMOEROTIC MEGADEATH FANS AT SUPPAAAAANOOOVAAA


By night he's The Punisher, by day he solves math equations and follows the national chess circuit. Also in this photo: arousal.


Why So Serious? He didn't even bother to turn around for the photo. Who puts that much effort into a costume then gets the shits when you want a photo?


I thought I was taking a photo of a cool little dude dressed as his idol, but as it turns out I was photographing First Prize for the over 40's male gymnastics..


Some kind of sexy nurse / nun. I'd have a christian stroke over her anyday.


Kings Comics photo taken from above. No gag here... ...
....
......... anus!


I took this photo just outside the mens toilets, good thing too, as I came down with a serious case of bat-boner.


I saw these two lovely ladies get on the train on the Central Coast, nobody noticed they were in costume.

Overall it was a great day, I'll be going next year that's for sure. Stay tuned for my Blizzcon review in August!.