BASTARD CATS
1. They don't fetch
2. They shit in corners where it lies stinking for days until you locate it.
3. They have no understanding of loyalty
4. They have slaves not owners
5. They torture their prey rather than just killing it.
6. They roam the neighbourhood freely like they own it.
7. They bugger up furniture when they sharpen their claws.
8. They won't protect aforementioned slaves
9. They run away at the first sign of trouble
10. For all intents and purposes they're effectively useless.
ROCKING DOGGIES
1. They most certainly do fetch (well, one of mine at least; the other catches then chews to bits)
2. They shit in the middle of the floor where you can find it and clean away immediately
3. They are the epitome of loyalty and demonstrate it every day.
4. They have masters to whom they devote themselves.
5. When they kill (which is a rarity in itself) it's as quick as nature permits with no self-indulgent torture.
6. They only chew things when they're puppies and too cute to get mad at.
7. They protect their master to the death.
8. They're first to jump in in defence of their master.
9. They're forced to be leashed at virtually all times due to the nature of the "masters' masters".
10. For all intents and purposes, having a doggie is good for a man
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
ASK THE EXPERT
WHY WE YAWN
This was a question posed by a radio jock the other day as part of a listeners' questions segment - sort of, ask the expert. Unfortunately they couldn't find an expert to answer this one so Dr Muttars will step up and clarify.
First, consider how we yawn. We open our mouth and start to inhale. The mouth opens wider an wider until it reaches almost breaking point at times, simultaneously drawing breath in deeper and further into the lungs than normal, culminating in a huge draw as the chest cavity expands to its furthest, (similar in fact, to how we'd breath after vigorous exercise - and with the same result).
This whole sequence effects in energizing the blood. The body when tired (and at rest, which is when we yawn), slows down. Therefore the blood flow slows as well, reducing its capacity to deliver oxygen to the muscles and further exacerbating the the feeling of sloth (which effects the yawn in the first place).
The whole inhalation of a great amount of oxygen, with the resulting effect, is...why we yawn.
Any other questions...?
This was a question posed by a radio jock the other day as part of a listeners' questions segment - sort of, ask the expert. Unfortunately they couldn't find an expert to answer this one so Dr Muttars will step up and clarify.
First, consider how we yawn. We open our mouth and start to inhale. The mouth opens wider an wider until it reaches almost breaking point at times, simultaneously drawing breath in deeper and further into the lungs than normal, culminating in a huge draw as the chest cavity expands to its furthest, (similar in fact, to how we'd breath after vigorous exercise - and with the same result).
This whole sequence effects in energizing the blood. The body when tired (and at rest, which is when we yawn), slows down. Therefore the blood flow slows as well, reducing its capacity to deliver oxygen to the muscles and further exacerbating the the feeling of sloth (which effects the yawn in the first place).
The whole inhalation of a great amount of oxygen, with the resulting effect, is...why we yawn.
Any other questions...?
THE "IT" FACTOR
From the Daily Rag, a small article entitled "Cars to attract women".
A womens' motoring website surveyed women about their motoring turn-ons and apparently the myth that fast expensive cars are "it" has been debunked.
In a survey of the sexiest cars and their male drivers, the results are as follows:
Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, the Porches, Lamborghinis, Ferraris etc. are considered sleazy and pretentious (I wouldn't drive one of those if you paid me quite frankly - in fact, if I had the sort of money required for such a vehicle, it'd go straight towards a house - or two - and a garage full of shit hot motorbikes, and a boat - and a hooker every weekend for the rest of my life but hey, that's just me!).
Mini drivers are considered gay (hoho, no surprise there - matter of fact all tiny wee cars are a bit gay!). Toyota, Volvo and Rolls Royce drivers were considered to be already married and therefore off the market. (Yeah right - the surveyor obviously isn't considering affairs and those women with no scruples).
The website's founder, a Juliet Potter, said, "we hate to break it to men, but that expensive Ferrari isn't going to buy them street cred with the ladies. Neither is a Lamborghini or Porsche". Damn, that's it, I'm selling mine!
So what is the mosts desirable car then. This is a little surprising to me:
In first place is the Range Rover and according to the survey, this vehicle (and driver) is "Hot, sexy, stylish - definitely someone you want to marry".
In third is a BMW/Mercedes: "never say no to a man in a a Beemer or Merc" (Right enough the 3 series Beemer is a great car -not sure about the Merc but I'm aware of their status).
Fourth place goes to the Audi (another great car) which is considered "classy,m practical and stylish. A great catch".
An languishing in fifth is the Volkswagen which is described as "middle of the road - a woman's car".
I left out second place as you can see; I left it til now because it's the humble workhorse that is the mighty ute (woohoo). And it's beats hands down any wanker Porsche or Lambo!
It's driver is described as, "dependable, capable, muscular and toned. Sexy. A practical man who is able to take control if necessary.
Heh heh, guess what yours truly owns? (You don't have to guess - there's a pic of it on the blog, with a bitchin' WR 426 dirtbike on the back and my two mutts). Yep! A ute - and not just any ute either, a 4x4 turbo deisel ute!
So there y'go ladies, line up, make your choice...!
A womens' motoring website surveyed women about their motoring turn-ons and apparently the myth that fast expensive cars are "it" has been debunked.
In a survey of the sexiest cars and their male drivers, the results are as follows:
Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, the Porches, Lamborghinis, Ferraris etc. are considered sleazy and pretentious (I wouldn't drive one of those if you paid me quite frankly - in fact, if I had the sort of money required for such a vehicle, it'd go straight towards a house - or two - and a garage full of shit hot motorbikes, and a boat - and a hooker every weekend for the rest of my life but hey, that's just me!).
Mini drivers are considered gay (hoho, no surprise there - matter of fact all tiny wee cars are a bit gay!). Toyota, Volvo and Rolls Royce drivers were considered to be already married and therefore off the market. (Yeah right - the surveyor obviously isn't considering affairs and those women with no scruples).
The website's founder, a Juliet Potter, said, "we hate to break it to men, but that expensive Ferrari isn't going to buy them street cred with the ladies. Neither is a Lamborghini or Porsche". Damn, that's it, I'm selling mine!
So what is the mosts desirable car then. This is a little surprising to me:
In first place is the Range Rover and according to the survey, this vehicle (and driver) is "Hot, sexy, stylish - definitely someone you want to marry".
In third is a BMW/Mercedes: "never say no to a man in a a Beemer or Merc" (Right enough the 3 series Beemer is a great car -not sure about the Merc but I'm aware of their status).
Fourth place goes to the Audi (another great car) which is considered "classy,m practical and stylish. A great catch".
An languishing in fifth is the Volkswagen which is described as "middle of the road - a woman's car".
I left out second place as you can see; I left it til now because it's the humble workhorse that is the mighty ute (woohoo). And it's beats hands down any wanker Porsche or Lambo!
It's driver is described as, "dependable, capable, muscular and toned. Sexy. A practical man who is able to take control if necessary.
Heh heh, guess what yours truly owns? (You don't have to guess - there's a pic of it on the blog, with a bitchin' WR 426 dirtbike on the back and my two mutts). Yep! A ute - and not just any ute either, a 4x4 turbo deisel ute!
So there y'go ladies, line up, make your choice...!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Saturday, February 09, 2008
IS IT ANY WONDER...
...I fuckin hate kids – well, not all kids but most of them...
I was at a house today, one I’m considering buying; it’s a dump, and therein lies its beauty, for after I lay my rather inventive hands on it, it has every chance of being a jewel.
Anyway, I’m at this place looking it over and talking with the agent, (the only agent so far who seems honest…);it’s occupied by what my Antipodean hosts oft refer to rather cruelly as a “fat bush pig”. Unfortunate woman. And stupid too no doubt as with her are four offspring around the ages of 10 to 13ish.
We’re in the kitchen when suddenly one of the brats runs in, “mister, mister, one of your dogs is outside your ute”.
I know this, it’s Scoob; he can’t help himself – just has to know what’s goin on, but I’m prepared for it from months of experience and I have him tethered so whilst he can leave the ute, he can’t go very far.
“I know”, I say to the kid, “he’s tied up”.
The kid turns and runs out. As he does so I say, loudly and clearly, “Don’t go near him”, then as an afterthought, louder, in case in his haste, he didn’t hear, “STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”.
I finish my conversation and return to the stoop outside – where I see all four of the wee bastards, hovering round Scoob, who’s being Scoob – pleasant, tail wagging, unagressive. The picture of placidity.
However, I know the risk. That one of them might inadvertently pat Scoob’s behind (or that general region). Scoob doesn’t like that, right or wrong he just doesn’t and even I can barely get away with it so strangers…?
Soon enough they move away though and with panic averted I relax a bit and return again to my conversation with the agent.
Next time I look, two of the wee fuckers have their noses stuck through the window of the ute having a good look.
“HEY!” I shout, “GET YOUR NOSE OUTA THERE!”
The two wee bastards look at me with pure insolence on their face, seemingly so out of control that they’d been a while since being spoken to that way.
They begrudgingly withdrew. I left.
How about you control your fuckin offspring love?
Is it any wonder...?
I was at a house today, one I’m considering buying; it’s a dump, and therein lies its beauty, for after I lay my rather inventive hands on it, it has every chance of being a jewel.
Anyway, I’m at this place looking it over and talking with the agent, (the only agent so far who seems honest…);it’s occupied by what my Antipodean hosts oft refer to rather cruelly as a “fat bush pig”. Unfortunate woman. And stupid too no doubt as with her are four offspring around the ages of 10 to 13ish.
We’re in the kitchen when suddenly one of the brats runs in, “mister, mister, one of your dogs is outside your ute”.
I know this, it’s Scoob; he can’t help himself – just has to know what’s goin on, but I’m prepared for it from months of experience and I have him tethered so whilst he can leave the ute, he can’t go very far.
“I know”, I say to the kid, “he’s tied up”.
The kid turns and runs out. As he does so I say, loudly and clearly, “Don’t go near him”, then as an afterthought, louder, in case in his haste, he didn’t hear, “STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”.
I finish my conversation and return to the stoop outside – where I see all four of the wee bastards, hovering round Scoob, who’s being Scoob – pleasant, tail wagging, unagressive. The picture of placidity.
However, I know the risk. That one of them might inadvertently pat Scoob’s behind (or that general region). Scoob doesn’t like that, right or wrong he just doesn’t and even I can barely get away with it so strangers…?
Soon enough they move away though and with panic averted I relax a bit and return again to my conversation with the agent.
Next time I look, two of the wee fuckers have their noses stuck through the window of the ute having a good look.
“HEY!” I shout, “GET YOUR NOSE OUTA THERE!”
The two wee bastards look at me with pure insolence on their face, seemingly so out of control that they’d been a while since being spoken to that way.
They begrudgingly withdrew. I left.
How about you control your fuckin offspring love?
Is it any wonder...?
Thursday, February 07, 2008
KOKODA TRAIL
In brief, the Kokoda Trail is a 2nd World War trail in Indonesia that has been held sacrosanct by Australians as the "final line" as it were. The falling of this line apparently would hgave seen the invasion of Australia by the Japanese.
Many brave men died protecting this trail.
Now, it seems a mining company wants to dig it up in search of more profits.
And they will - because money talks!
Many brave men died protecting this trail.
Now, it seems a mining company wants to dig it up in search of more profits.
And they will - because money talks!
RAY WHITE #3
In light of Gordy getting his wife/mother to defend him I thought maybe I'll get my Ma to defend me hoho . (Don't wanna fuck with my Ma, believe me and I don't have a wife!)
Battle of the mothers or the mother of all battles hehe!
Handbags at the ready...
Hey, what's good for the goose...
Battle of the mothers or the mother of all battles hehe!
Handbags at the ready...
Hey, what's good for the goose...
RAY WHITE #2
Well, it seems wittle Gordon has got his wife (or mother) to reply to my email and blog. I received it today; she also denies what he said. Mind you she wasn't there so how she could know...
Wittle Gordy has obviously lied to her as well. Does the man have NO scruples? Lying to his wife/mother...tut-tut.
Well, Gordy's wife/mother, let me tell you, as one who was ACTUALLY there, what was said:
I asked Gordon, about two lines into the description if pets were permitted. He answered in the affirmative - and it was a yes/no answer so I don't see how I could, as he put it in his office later - misunderstand.
He has lied and cheated and furthermore, I booked a day off for moving (for which I don't get paid) but now I find myself drifting with nothing to do as my shift was covered.
So his lies and deceit have actually cost me money.
Oh and re: not working for me anymore, Ms McVicar. Don't know if you noticed but I DUMPED you; not the other way. And I'm dumping Ray White NZ in terms of selling my NZ apartment and I will gladly tell them why!
You WILL regret such behaviour - mark my words.
Wittle Gordy has obviously lied to her as well. Does the man have NO scruples? Lying to his wife/mother...tut-tut.
Well, Gordy's wife/mother, let me tell you, as one who was ACTUALLY there, what was said:
I asked Gordon, about two lines into the description if pets were permitted. He answered in the affirmative - and it was a yes/no answer so I don't see how I could, as he put it in his office later - misunderstand.
He has lied and cheated and furthermore, I booked a day off for moving (for which I don't get paid) but now I find myself drifting with nothing to do as my shift was covered.
So his lies and deceit have actually cost me money.
Oh and re: not working for me anymore, Ms McVicar. Don't know if you noticed but I DUMPED you; not the other way. And I'm dumping Ray White NZ in terms of selling my NZ apartment and I will gladly tell them why!
You WILL regret such behaviour - mark my words.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
RAY WHITE REAL ESTATE
I had decided, after considering the market of late and what lay in it's future re: interest rate rises (one today - possibly 3 or 4 to come) to rent a place while I kept an eye on things.
So I called the above named agent and spoke with a man called Gordon. He told me of a house for rent and was no more than two sentences into the description when I said quite clearly, "Gordon, listen - and this will be the make or break of the decision, am I allowed my two pets in with me?"
"What type are they?" He asked.
"Border Collies", I answered.
"Nice dogs, yeah that'll be alright"
Over the next few days, I made my arrangements and today I called to confirm the agreed occupation date of today at 1500 (they wanted to clean it professionally apparently). I was informed by Betty, the secretary, that yes, it was a go for that time.
So after breakfast I went to the bank and retrieved the rental bond and a months rent, then to the storage unit to pick up a few things for the house.
Then. merrily, headed for my new home via the realtor's office to complete the official paperwork...
...during which time a piece of small print was pointed out to me. No pets it said. It was like I'd been punched in the gut. I was told in my original conversation with the untrustworthy Gordon, that I COULD have my pets inside. I now suspect the slimy little man was of the opinion that he'll just agree to anything to get my patronage, then hope after I've gone to considerable trouble, I'll just acquiesce and agree.
Sneaky wee fucker!
I've news for you Gordy, I will never abandon my Boys.
And you have just demonstrated again the levels to which you people (and by "you people" I quite obviously mean Real estate agents) will go in search of business. Lie, deceive, manipulate.
Nothing's beneath you it would seem.
So I called the above named agent and spoke with a man called Gordon. He told me of a house for rent and was no more than two sentences into the description when I said quite clearly, "Gordon, listen - and this will be the make or break of the decision, am I allowed my two pets in with me?"
"What type are they?" He asked.
"Border Collies", I answered.
"Nice dogs, yeah that'll be alright"
Over the next few days, I made my arrangements and today I called to confirm the agreed occupation date of today at 1500 (they wanted to clean it professionally apparently). I was informed by Betty, the secretary, that yes, it was a go for that time.
So after breakfast I went to the bank and retrieved the rental bond and a months rent, then to the storage unit to pick up a few things for the house.
Then. merrily, headed for my new home via the realtor's office to complete the official paperwork...
...during which time a piece of small print was pointed out to me. No pets it said. It was like I'd been punched in the gut. I was told in my original conversation with the untrustworthy Gordon, that I COULD have my pets inside. I now suspect the slimy little man was of the opinion that he'll just agree to anything to get my patronage, then hope after I've gone to considerable trouble, I'll just acquiesce and agree.
Sneaky wee fucker!
I've news for you Gordy, I will never abandon my Boys.
And you have just demonstrated again the levels to which you people (and by "you people" I quite obviously mean Real estate agents) will go in search of business. Lie, deceive, manipulate.
Nothing's beneath you it would seem.
TWO NUN JOKES
JOKE ONE
Two nuns are sitting at traffic lights in their car when all of a sudden a demon appears crouched on the vehicle bonnet* right in front of them.
The younger of the two panics, "oh no, mother superior, what will we do, what will we do" she cried.
"It's okay, calm down, just show him your cross".
With that the younger nun stuck her head out the window and screamed with as much rage she could muster - "Get off my fucking bonnet you hideous bastard!"
*"Hood" to the Americans*
Joke Two:
Two nuns are sitting on a park bench doing what nuns do, when all of a sudden a flasher appears and whips open his trench coat right in front of them.
One of the first nuns had a stroke - the other couldn't reach.
Two nuns are sitting at traffic lights in their car when all of a sudden a demon appears crouched on the vehicle bonnet* right in front of them.
The younger of the two panics, "oh no, mother superior, what will we do, what will we do" she cried.
"It's okay, calm down, just show him your cross".
With that the younger nun stuck her head out the window and screamed with as much rage she could muster - "Get off my fucking bonnet you hideous bastard!"
*"Hood" to the Americans*
Joke Two:
Two nuns are sitting on a park bench doing what nuns do, when all of a sudden a flasher appears and whips open his trench coat right in front of them.
One of the first nuns had a stroke - the other couldn't reach.
Monday, February 04, 2008
HOHO, M'WEE MAN...
I refer to Mutley, not my weener just in case any of you have your minds in the gutter.
Regular readers will remember the story about Scoob (m' big man) slamming his face into the dirt whilst chasing a tweety bird.
Well, not to be outdone by his brother, Mutley demonstrated his own "pirouette" as it were (whilst also chasing birds - though these were bigger magpies as opposed to the little tweety birds).
And also, rain played a part in this one too...
On the same walk there's a place where the road is on a raised section with a decline to the left which bottoms in a gully through which water flows. It's very overgrown with grass too and obscures the "lie of the land" as it were as Mutley discovered rather ingloriously.
In short, both my Boys saw the magpies and bolted after them down the hill; reaching the bottom, Scoob managed to cross with no problem but Mutley (lmao - oh man, the memory) it seems must have misfooted and by some sequence of events went completely head over arse.
LMMFAO!!!!!
Seriously. Man, I thought Scoob's fall was funny (which it was) but this...hoho, m'poor wee man didn't know what hit him. One minute he's bolting after the bird - next he's upside down feet pawing the air in a vain attempt to right himself with me laughing at him.
This one saw me on my knees too (even had to set my coffee down); luckily the dreaded lurgy has left me so I didn't "nearly die on the street" this time - just laughed like a madman!
Man, I love my Boys.
Regular readers will remember the story about Scoob (m' big man) slamming his face into the dirt whilst chasing a tweety bird.
Well, not to be outdone by his brother, Mutley demonstrated his own "pirouette" as it were (whilst also chasing birds - though these were bigger magpies as opposed to the little tweety birds).
And also, rain played a part in this one too...
On the same walk there's a place where the road is on a raised section with a decline to the left which bottoms in a gully through which water flows. It's very overgrown with grass too and obscures the "lie of the land" as it were as Mutley discovered rather ingloriously.
In short, both my Boys saw the magpies and bolted after them down the hill; reaching the bottom, Scoob managed to cross with no problem but Mutley (lmao - oh man, the memory) it seems must have misfooted and by some sequence of events went completely head over arse.
LMMFAO!!!!!
Seriously. Man, I thought Scoob's fall was funny (which it was) but this...hoho, m'poor wee man didn't know what hit him. One minute he's bolting after the bird - next he's upside down feet pawing the air in a vain attempt to right himself with me laughing at him.
This one saw me on my knees too (even had to set my coffee down); luckily the dreaded lurgy has left me so I didn't "nearly die on the street" this time - just laughed like a madman!
Man, I love my Boys.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
JOKE OF THE WEEK
Two old tramps are shuffling down the street one day in no particular hurry. One starts to sniff the air and turns to his buddy and says,
"Hey Barney, did you shit your pants?"
"No", replied his old friend.
They continue walking; still the tramp smells the odour so he asks again, "Are you sure you didn't shit your pants coz I can smell it from here".
Barney sniffs as well and thinks; then he says, "Oh, I thought you meant TODAY!"
"Hey Barney, did you shit your pants?"
"No", replied his old friend.
They continue walking; still the tramp smells the odour so he asks again, "Are you sure you didn't shit your pants coz I can smell it from here".
Barney sniffs as well and thinks; then he says, "Oh, I thought you meant TODAY!"
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