sciron.org/blog

incoherently rambling since 2003

Couldn’t believe it… last night i’n in attendance of a work colleagues engagement party (great couple btw, definitely think they’ll make the distance) and as per the lyrics in the Gagajang classic ‘This is Australia’, I was witnessing it first hand…

Out on the patio we’d sit,
And the humidity we’d breathe,
We’d watch the lightning crack over canefields
Laugh and think, this is Australia.

And in a way I was laughing and connecting with a piece of music in it’s most pure form. I knew how the writer felt when he (or she) penned the lyrics. One more amazing experience that’s difficult for me to articulate into words, but retrospectively i’ll understand that this is my life, these are my experiences. One day these collection of moments will become ripe for conversation and i’ll be sharing my experiences of the places i’ve journeyed to with my kids.

Strange to think of me and children in the same sentence….. but what can you do really?

The temperature continues to shoot up at an exhilirating pace here my in my humble abode. The a/c unit now runs basically 24/7 as re-cooling the room after a short break probably costs me more on the electicity bill then to just leave it running. However I will be heading out soon to the sun and the surf (probably should since i’m on the tip of the Great Barrier Reef), though this time i’m taking my own recommendations and wearing some sunscreen :)
Post-swim we’re bailing over to a BBQ-and-beers session, and considering we’ve got a long weekend for Australia Day, hangovers are obligatory.

Maybe it’s just the Australia day theme coming through me atm, but i’ve seen a few of my posts of late have been slanting towards the aussie lifestyle. Maybe i’m just being thankful that we live in one of the best places in the world.

I’m off.

Loving all your work
Adam

The IBD’s, in-between days. They’re the ones that take up the majority of our life without us even realising it. The secular moments between the start and finish lines. The choices we make are easy, the commitments we make on the IBD’s is what separates us.

Everybody I know is in the middle of an IBD epidemic. It seems to have started a short while ago, but everyone I speak to is just indifferent to essentially anything. Smokers are at the 20 day mark, I haven’t had a drink in two weeks, people’s personal growth strategies are in that middle phase.

Inspirat on for this post, and a general start point to the ideology of the IBB was from smitten who was lamenting the drop in her weekly bonk count, concerned that mediocrity would turn into downright non-existence and the pair of them would be sucked into a vortex of couch-lounging and 2 minute noodles.

It appears that today’s post has started the process of re-centering (is that a word?!?!) her psyche to the possibility that the IBD’s are not the worst place in the world to be.

I for one am happy that I don’t have to think all.the.dammed.time for once.

Loving all your work
Adam

Editors Note: Makes me proud to have an aussie sense of humour :)
We are the people of a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional wanker. We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand), and although we live in the best country in the world, we reserve the right to bitch and moan about it whenever we bloody like.
We are One Nation but divided into many States.

First, there’s Victoria, named after a queen who didn’t believe in lesbians. Victoria is the realm of Mossimo turtlenecks, cafe latte, grand final day, and big horse races. Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that “it’s liveable”. At least that’s what they think.
The rest of us think it is too bloody cold and wet.

Next, there’s NSW, the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing queens. Its capital Sydney has more queens than any other city in the world and is proud of it. Its mascots are Bondi lifesavers that pull their Speedos up their cracks to keep the left and right sides of their brains separate.

Down south we have Tasmania, a State based on the notion that the family that bonks together stays together. In Tassie, everyone gets an extra chromosome at conception. Maps of the State bring smiles to the sternest faces. It holds the world record for a single mass shooting, which the Yanks can’t seem to beat no matter how often they try.

South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders. SA is the state of innovation. Where else can you so effectively reuse country bank vaults and barrels as in Snowtown, just out of Adelaide (also named after a queen). They had the Grand Prix, but lost it when the views of Adelaide sent the Formula One
drivers to sleep at the wheel.

Western Australia is too far from anywhere to be relevant. It’s main claim to fame is that it doesn’t have daylight saving because if it did, all the men would get erections on the bus on the way to work. WA was the last state to stop importing convicts and many of them still work there in the government and business.

The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations the size of Europe, kangaroos, Jackaroos, emus, Uluru, and dusty kids with big smiles. It also has the highest beer consumption of anywhere on the planet and its creek beds have the highest aluminium content of anywhere too. Although the Territory is the centrepiece of our national culture, few of us live there and the rest prefer to flyover it on our way to Bali.

And there’s Queensland. While any mention of God seems silly in a document defining a nation of half arsed sceptics, it is worth noting that God probably made Queensland, as its beautiful one day and perfect the next.
Why he filled it with dickheads remains a mystery.

Oh yes and there’s Canberra. The less said the better.

We, the citizens of Oz, are united by Highways, whose treacherous twists and turns kill more of us each year than murderers. We are united in our lust for international recognition, so desperate for praise we leap in joy when a rag tag gaggle of corrupt IOC officials tells us Sydney is better than Beijing. We are united by a democracy so flawed that a
political party albeit a redneck gun toting one, can get a million votes and still not win one seat in Federal arliament. Not that we’re whingeing, we leave that to our Pommy immigrants.

We want to make “no worries mate” our national phrase, “she’ll be right mate” our national attitude and “Waltzing Matilda” our national anthem (so what if it’s about a sheep-stealing crim who commits suicide). We love sport so much our newsreaders can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who’s winning.

And we’re the best in the world at all the sports that count, like cricket, netball, rugby league and union, AFL, roo shooting, two up and horse racing. We also have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies, and the worst dressed Olympians in the known universe. Only in Australia can a pizza delivery get to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in
Australia do we have bank doors wide open, no security guards, or cameras but chain the pens to the desk.

Stand proud Aussies - we shoot, we root, we vote. We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime. Even though we might seem a racist, closed minded, sports obsessed little people, at least we feel better for it.

I am, you are, we are Australian!

P.S We also shoot and eat the two animals that are on our National Crest!!!! No other country has this distinction!

HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY

1. Firm but fair, otherwise he’ll think you’re just leading him on. (and do it first up!)
2. No more outings, gives him the wrong idea
3. Tell him you still want to *enjoy* his company.

Leaves you in control, and us boys know when firm lines are set that if we step over them we get slapped!

A

I have a slight problem (its probably just in my head), I need input…

You know how I wrote about the boy with the piercing? Well, we’ve been keeping in touch & there happened to be a drunken phone call on Saturday night (Sunday morning) I sent him a txt & then he called me.

Anyway, he’s like “I’d like to take you out to dinner” & I was like “yeah ok, maybe Wednesday”. He’s a nice enough guy & I enjoy hanging out with him etc but there’s no way I want anything serious, he’s only 21… (6 years younger than me!) This sounds so bad but he’s not really my type, relationship wise - how shallow am I!!

Last night he called me again & he’s like so where do you want to go, do you want to do something “ROMANTIC” or just casual? The alarm bells started ringing as soon as he said the word romantic & now I’m freaking out. I was like, “something causal would be good”. In one of our conversations, when we were talking about my ex, I said that I still wasn’t up for a relationship etc. So I’d thought I’d already kinda put it out there & now I’m not to sure how to handle the situation…

I’m probably over reacting but I don’t want to end up been one of those bitchy girls that just uses guys… I’d much rather be up front but then I don’t want to make a fool of myself if he’s just in it for fun too…

Tonight should be interesting…

Thoughts anyone???

My world must be considerably more liberated than those around me (well, ok my work colleagues are even more adventurous than I, but that’s another story).

I engaged in a conversation tonight that I knew to be high in danger at every turn. We started to talk about sex. And no, not ‘hey baby, come visit me’ type sex, more a clinical ’so what s your viewpoint on this’ sex discussion.
How much do people talk about it in your life? It seems that the greatest gift I was presented when I moved here were the most liberated and open-minded people imaginable. Nothing appears to be sacred territory, and subsequently open and lively discussion are rendered on just about every sexual topic imaginable. I’m a fan of this kind of communication.

This person told me that though she could ‘talk about anything’ with her friends, her realistic knowledge of what her partners had or did get up to was limited at best, and appalling at worst. Now without claiming some desire for vouyeristic knowledge of every carnal act your friends are up to, however the complete lack of understanding of some of the more ‘taboo’ sexual experiences was simply outrageous.

Nearly all sexual experiences are about time, patience and pleasure. Usually time and patience are required in massive quantities before you begin to see any of the pleasure benefits, but they are (as a general rule) worth the wait and allow a different sexual side to a relationship. (and before you start assuming with your one track mind, perform good cunninglus on a woman, there’s the definition of time and patience equaling a whole world of pleasure!)

I’m not saying that every man and woman needs to have a hit count of 50 and conquered the Karma-sutra, but to not be open to the possibility of anything outside missionary, doggie and girl-on-top is somewhat of a concern to me. Are these people going to succeed in having children and raising them with such limited knowledge or respect of their own bodies, who knows?

As Christina Amphlett once (famously) sung, there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, and in most cases, there might just be a fine line between mediocrity and sexual freedom.

I’m a person who despises boundaries and has some serious issues with authority so i’ll freely admit i’m at the more free-thinking side of the pendulum, but each and every one of us should take the time and commitment to try something different once in a while.

Who knows, you might just enjoy yourself and not be able to tell your friends for fear of retribution :)
Not gettin’ any lovin’ but still loving all your work!
A

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like a retard.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol MAY cause you to think you can sing.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.
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WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may be a major factor in getting your ass kicked.
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WARNING: the crumsumpten of alcahol may mack you tihnk you can tipe real gode.

That’s it.. i’ve just decided (for the 11th time) to change the title of the site… as the only persistent theme of these pages is my

incoherent ramblings, it shall be from this day named….

Meanwhile, i’ve e-mailed a couple of blog designers and lo-and-behold, no return calls. Probably don’t want me to mention them on

my site :) hehe

(oh shit, what if they come and visit today and read this.. oh well, humour’s good for the soul I say)

That is all at this point in time.. I want busy bee chips (unless you live here, you wouldn’t understand)

Lovin’ all your work
A

I have absolutely nothing interesting to say, hence no posts.