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Thanks for the input over the years.

Recently I wrote that I was no longer welcome in Holbrook. But it’s not my fault!

Driving up to Sydney, I had made a decision to not carry any junk food. On long trips we all know how it is, you pack a packet of lollies, and before you even get out of the car park, they are half gone. Instead my esky contained the following:

• Two bottles of water.
• Two cans of Pepsi Max (for the caffine)
• Some SPC fruit in a cups.

As you can see, not much.

I ended up not drinking one of the cans of pepsi, and the first one was only drank after my stop at Holbrook.

Holbrook is about half way on the trip, it’s the place that has a submarine on the main street, well actually two submarines, so you know before you even get out of the car, that the people here are a little different, so are their stores.

For the previous 100km, I had an urge for twiggy sticks. You know those processed meat products, that are a bit  on the savoury side. As I drove through Holbrook, I noticed the local supermarket, and thought this would be a good place to make a pit stop. This is when the fun started.

The store, like many had a front door, which is very convenient for business. I found the deli off to the left hand side, placed my order, and then went back to the front of the shop, where I noticed there was no check out. I looked around the store, and noticed a complete lack of anywhere to pay. Maybe I had been wrong about Holbrook, and having two submarines in your town turns it into some kind of Utopia, where processed meat products are free.

Not wanting to spend a night in a town that has had it’s fair share of Bushrangers in the past, I decided to search the store for a check out, and eventually one was found. It’s location towards the back of the store, on the right hand side, hidden behind rows of cereal boxes, I thought an unusual location. I paid for the food, walked though the check out, and noticed I was actually in a different shop. I admit, at this point I was a little bit perplexed, and turned around to check I had actually walked the right way. This is when the fun started.

The check out chick, who I think would have had had Ned Kelly as a baby sitter, said to me, “Yes dear, you are going the right way, right through that shop to exit”

I replied to her, “Ok, thanks, I just thought it was a strange set up, and didn’t want to end up in the wrong place.” And I started to walk away.

It was then that another woman in the store, whom I can only assume was the woman who use to baby sit Ned Kelly quipped to the check out chick “Oh they’re all the same these tourists, they have no idea.”

Being the person I am, I couldn’t let such a comment go unnoticed. So I had to reply with the best I could think of on the spot.

“My apologies for being confused by a store obviously designed by Escher. Logic would say to have the check out at the front of the store, but being the dimwitted tourist I am, I guess I will just have to by pass this town and never shop here again. I’ll also have to tell everyone I know to by pass the town, as the shops are just too confusing for those of us who want to spend money here. Goodbye.”

I left through the other store, which exited onto a different street to the one I was parked on, eventually found my car, got going, ignored the submarines, and kept on driving.

New South Wales is currently working on bypassing Holbrook, and I doubt I will ever find a need to use that town exit, despite a chance to see my face on a ‘WANTED’ poster there.

Ok, so I am back from Sydney, where life was pretty flat out, but worth it.

I was staying with some wonderful people, and as is always the case here at the Road, they will remain nameless.

The people have children who are a bit past the “Oh that’s cute, I’ll stick it on the fridge” stage, and closer to the “Why are you still living here?” stage. It made for some enjoyable times, and I will be blogging some of the things here over the next few weeks.

The shower was an interesting concept. All up there was 19 different bottles of shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and shaving cream. It was like showering in a supermarket display. I honestly felt that if I slipped in the shower, and two products unfortunately ended up in an orifice with the right bar codes, then I could win a trip to Hamilton Island, or one of thousands of other prizes.

Thankfully now I will only be able to enter into the second chance draw, as I didn’t suffer a two in one.

Live blogging time. I have a road trip to Sydney later today, which is going to be a struggle. Not because of the distance, but because of the dodgy stomach I have at the moment. More details soon.

Ok, so that was yesterday, when all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though I’m stealing Beatles lyrics which I am. But let’s face it, I really don’t need to tell you that the live blogging of my drive didn’t happen. The best way to sum it up I think is in bullet form, and to just leave it at that, comments of “please explain” pending. (FISHING!!!)

• Got out of Melbourne earlier than expected, due to my continuing bowel problems of the last few days. Thankfully they held together until Gundagai, but even that was short lived.
• No, we ain’t got kabana, we ain’t got kabana today. Screw you Albury.
• Grey Nomads should be forced to drive at the speed limit, or made to drink a badly brewed cup of tea in a shoddy location as punishment. Double punishment for road works zones.
• Thanks to a supermarket designed by M. C. Escher, I am no longer welcome in Holbrook.
• Despite it no longer being listed on their menu, the servo at Gundagai still makes the best steak sandwich on the Hume.
• Where the hell am I, and why don’t the road side stops in New South Wales have toilets?????????
• Peak Hour drivers in Sydney need to learn that, if a car has Victorian rego plates, it doesn’t mean they don’t know how to drive in peak hour traffic, so just get moving you tools.

So that was the drive up, pretty uneventful as you can see. More blogging about my adventures here later.

I wanna crap a bit, jut a little bit. I wanna see you crap a bit, just a little bit. Yep, the joke is that crap this week, I’m padding out the post. Time to get on with it:

• Why do fish live in salt water?

• Pepper makes them sneeze.

Ba-zing!

I am a fan of the greatest show to have ever been on radio in the world. Get This ran for two years 2006-2007, and even now, two years later, I can listen to any one of the 162(+1) podcasts and always find myself laughing uncontrollably. The show has had such an influence on my life, I usually drop in a Get This reference to just about every blog entry I do.  For other fans of the show, they will understand this blog post, for anyone else, I suggest you get the podcasts, put them on your Pot/Kettle, and enjoy the show.

Today while out doing some shopping, a woman was talking, on the loudish side, on her mobile phone. Ignoring the obvious lack of knowledge she had for AGC (Automatic Gain Control), I could not help but overhear the following line, which lead to a very Get This moment:

• Woman: How are the dogs, how are Paris and Toto?
• At this point, nay on a millisecond later, the PA system in the store starts playing “Africa” by Toto.
• I say half under my breath “Marsland!”
• At which point a guy in the next aisle calls out “Get This!” Before laughing his head off.

I know it is a “you had to be there” thing, but it certainly made my day, and it is great that a show that ended two years ago is still making me smile.

Those hacks at Seven news give us the following story:

Boy spends night at Vic supermarket

AAP October 26, 2009, 7:05 am

An eight-year-old boy found with his face covered in chocolate ice-cream at a Melbourne supermarket overnight has been reunited with his parents.

Staff at the Safeway Camberwell supermarket in Station Street discovered Daniel barefoot in the frozen food aisle about 3.50am (AEDT) on Monday.

Police said it appeared the boy had wandered from his nearby home in search of a late night snack.

Read more of their crap here.

Seven then complete the story with the following line for the comments section:

What’s your vice or craving? Leave your comments below.

Ok, so let’s ignore the fact the kid didn’t spend the whole night there, just a couple of hours. Let’s ignore the fact that Seven have beat this story up in a way I only thought was possible by the Herald-Sun. Let’s ignore the fact that they are so bored shitless in the orifices of Seven that to drum up comments they put in a crappy dovetail question. What I want to know is….

What the hell has an 8 year old been up to, that he has the munchies in the middle of the night? Damn Camberwell hippies.

*Warning, this post contains high levels of swearing, not usually associated with this site.

Back in the days before my youth was misspent, colour television was new, and speed limits were open, I remember when I lost a little of my childhood innocence.

Up until that point, the word “fuck” had just been another word with no real meaning. It was one of those words that grown ups said to each other. The main usage of the word “fuck” seemed to evolve around heated arguments (of which there were many between my parents), when Collingwood missed a goal, and at barbecues where the guys would stand around with a tinny and practice using the word by transposing every second word of what they were talking about, with the word “fuck” in some attempt to make their story more interesting.

“That fucking mongrel down the fucking road, fucking well, parked his fucking car over my fucking driveway again the fucker. So fuck him, I fucking fixed him fucking good and proper the fuckwit.”

Then one day, things changed.

I don’t remember exactly where I but I know I was in the front seat of the car, wearing my optional seatbelt, with the windows down to combat yet another hot Melbourne summer. We were stopped at the lights and I saw across the way and advertisement for Eskimo Pie ice creams. The wonderful sensation of a block of fine vanilla ice cream, covered in a layer of chocolate. Oh if I could have lived in a house made of Eskimo Pie bricks, I would be in heaven. On this hot day as Muriel Cooper blasted out from the five button AM radio, nothing would have been better than an Eskimo Pie, or so I thought.

The advertisement was typical of the day, before political correctness really came to the fore, and sex was used to sell everything from nappies, to retirement homes. I couldn’t find the advertisement in question, so I did a quick mock up of how it looked.

I hope you will excuse my obviously cheap, nasty and downright boring attempt at recreating this advertisement, but it is early on a Sunday morning, and I have other things to do with my time, like going to get an Eskimo Pie.

With an image like that, who wouldn’t want an Eskimo Pie, and let’s face it, nothing could beat one, especially given the heat of the car, the buckle of the seat belt burning into my hip, and UV protection still another five years away. But someone had found something better than an Eskimo Pie, and they had answered the advertisement with some glorious spray can handy work.

With that simple swift hand of genius, my innocence was lost, a comic seed was placed in my head, and a memory was burnt into my head that would be blogged about thirty odd years later.

Fuck, what a word, but I could still go an Eskimo Pie.

I’ve got nothing to blog about, so let’s have a look at some of the search engine results. Seriously, do people think before they type into google? You people really do look for weird shit. On with the stats, comments in italics.

alicia storrie. Who the hell is Alicia Storrie, and what does she have to do with my site?

margo zlotkowski. Must be related to Alicia Storrie.

gabriella coslovich. Ok, seriously, who the fuck are these freaks, and why are they linked to my blog?

bike cleavage site:trampanto.com I never even knew bikes had breasts.

string tied tits. Ok, I’m actually interested in this one, just to know why you would do it.

tits site:trampanto.com Be blunt then, but this really isn’t a p0rn site you know, no tits for ages.

aireys inlet man murder charge. I didn’t do it, honestly.

all saints suicide. We can only hope the show does.

photos of sex predator alicia storrie. So THAT’S who Alicia Storrie is.

avg speed rec riding road bicycles. Get out on one and find out for yourself, I ride a recumbent you tool.

dimbulah police. I suggest you call 000, and ask to speak to Alicia Storrie.

updown court. Maybe Up and Down is what got you into Court in the first place.

climax tablets. Not here, but if you get some, I’ll give you my address.

sexy thing one and thing two. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.

In keeping with the standards of this site, I present to you another crap joke. Why? Because this basically means you people think I have blogged, when really, I’ve got nothing. On with the joke:

A Middle Eastern King was down on his money and began to sell off his valuables. The last of these was the Star of the Euphrates, at that time the most valuable diamond in existence. He went to a pawnbroker who offered him 100,000 Rials for it.

“Are you crazy?”, said the King. “I paid one million Rials for this gem! Don’t you know who I am?”

The Pawnbroker replied, “When you wish to pawn a star, makes no difference who you are.”