Tag: dicks

And You Think You’re Having a Bad Day

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Next life, he's coming back as a fish dick.

You think you’re having a bad day? Maybe you got to work hoping for a peaceful day surfing the internet, but your boss slapped a pile of work on your desk that will last you until retirement.

Worse than that? Maybe your Aunt Lucy’s life support machine was switched off by mistake. Before she’d changed her Will to leave you a million bucks. That’s bad.

Worse still? You ran over Aunt Lucy’s cat, got fired from your job for spending all day surfing the internet, then got hit by a truck and are now hooked up to life support. That’s pretty bad.

But it could be worse. You could be Sam the Catfish. This is his lousy day story.

I’m watching a TV documentary about some dicks going fishing in a lake in Brazil. These two idiots are chucking in their line or whatever the angling term is, when one of them gets a bite. He excitedly yanks out the line to reveal a wriggling, angry catfish! I’ll call him Sam. I’m not sure if his name really is Sam, but it seems like a good name for a catfish. Anyway, poor Sam is struggling on the line. A bad day for a fish, you think. But get this – half of Sam’s body is missing! The lake is full of fuckin’ piranhas, and Sam’s the lunchtime sushi special!

“Oh dear,” chuckles one of the fishing dicks. “Looks like our supper’s already half eaten!” Poor Sam is half the fish he was this morning, and these guys think it’s funny! But at least Sam has escaped the piranhas…

“Thank goodness!” thinks Sam. “I’ve been rescued from that vicious mob of fish! There is a God after all… ohhhh… uhhhh… where am I…can’t breathe… no… water… oh no… fish dicks!!!”
Not only is Sam suffocating to death, he is also about to get his head smashed in and served for supper. His bad day can’t get any worse, can it?

“Oh, this fish is no good,” dick one says.
“You’re right. Better release the poor fella,” dick two suggests.
Good idea chaps! Throw Sam BACK into the water!
“Fuck.” thinks Sam.

That is what you call having a bad day.


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Chinese Whispers – Sparky’s Party

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Party Planning - what could go wrong?

I collected my mate Sparky and his trucker buddy Super Dave from the airport following their deportation from China. After going on the run from the local police, the idiots decided it would be a good idea to stow away in a container ship bound for Shanghai. Their illegal residency was rumbled when Super Dave committed a tourist faux-pas during a visit to a sacred shrine. Apparently getting drunk and sitting on an ancient temple roof singing Nickelback songs is somewhat frowned upon by the Chinese authorities.

Mandarin Miss

Sparky not only brought back a suitcase full of fake DVDs and trainers, but he also brought back a girlfriend. May Lau was petite, graceful and blissfully unaware of Sparky’s criminal record. But it wasn’t for me to ruin her romantic dreams. Not that I could explain anyway, as she spoke very little English. Sparky’s command of Mandarin only stretched to items on Mr. Chang’s Noodle House menu. Love would find a way somehow.

Sparky had assured May’s parents he was a successful businessman. He would happily employ May and fill out her immigration forms, no problem. Sparky had also launched a new enterprise to make his fortune – party planning. One lesson his ill-fated spiritual retreat had taught him was that he could put on a damn good party. Flashing lights, pounding music and a bootlegged free-flow bar was all it took. And in the darkness of the disco, guests would never notice that the buffet food had been liberated from the convenience store dumpster. This new career was going to be a breeze, and May was going to help him.

While Super Dave was sent out to flypost the local community hall, May was given a dictionary and instructed to take down bookings. She’d get the hang of English in no time. Sparky went off to the local tavern to spend the afternoon networking with his peers.

Party On

Sparky called me a few days later with the exciting news that they’d taken their first booking at the community hall! The caller needed an event arranging for tomorrow night – it was short notice and May had indicated caller was distressed. Maybe he’d forgotten a relative’s birthday or something. May had cutely described the client’s requirements as a “fun, lol party”. At least she was picking up textspeak. Sparky and Super Dave rushed to the hall with a truck full of disco lights, streamers and illicit beer. Determined not to let his new client down, it was going to be the best party in town!

Are you ready to PARTY?! Possibly not.

The following evening I went over to the community hall to witness the big event. Sparky had not been able to get hold of his client all day as his cell phone had been switched off. What a jerk. But Sparky was confident his client was going to freak out when he walked through the door. Sparky and Super Dave had transformed the dowdy venue into a hip nightclub complete with strobe lighting, baskets of huge balloons and the thumping beats of DJ Frigg, the local lesbian hip-hop artist. Sparky had excelled himself! May’s parents would be so proud of their future son-in-law. I nearly shed a tear.

And Sparky was right. When his client arrived at the hall with his guests he did freak out.

Not a fun, lol party.

A FUNERAL party.

Apparently May is now dating the head chef at Mr Changs’s Noodle House.


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The Lotus Position – A Fairly Story

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4-6 buddha

My mate Sparky was delighted to hear his crabby old Aunt had died and left him a parcel of land in the valley. His happiness was soon extinguished after visiting his new estate. The land was wild and rocky; an old wooden barn stood decaying in one corner. The land was worthless. Sparky urgently needed to make some cash to pay his court fines. Short of striking oil, how could he turn his wasteland into a goldmine?

4-6 buddha handSparky had an idea. After being ripped off at a dodgy hypnotism course at the local community centre, he realized there was money to be made from naive idiots trying to discover a higher level of consciousness. And in a way that didn’t involve weed.

What better way to part the gullible from their cash than a meditation centre? Instead of a costly trip to the Far East in search of enlightenment, overpaid yuppies could flock to Sparky’s barn, sorry, spiritual learning retreat and sit uncomfortably in the lotus position all weekend.

Sparky was confident he could learn the art of meditation by channeling the infinite wisdom of Google. Super Dave and I were instructed to spruce up the barn to make it look Far Eastern and, well, spiritual. Obviously with me being female, Sparky reckoned, I’d know about curtains and candles and that sort of thing. Thanks, Sparky.

4-6 shipping containersSuper Dave headed to the docks in his truck. The port was in lock-down after a shipment from China had sparked a formaldehyde alert. Containers filled with cheap soft furnishings from Shanghai were stacked by the dockside – no-one would open them until the fumes inside had dissipated. Unfazed by the risk of noxious chemicals, Super Dave set to work with a pair of bolt cutters.

Super Dave arrived back at the barn light-headed but elated. His truck was brimming with Oriental carpets, fairy lights and plastic Buddha statues. The barn was soon transformed into a twinkling haven of peace and cheap incense. I wondered if Sparky’s plan was actually going to work this time. However, common sense told me to get out while I could, so I wished the gurus good luck and sped home.

****

4-6 barn burnA month later I received a whispered message from Sparky on my answer machine. He said the meditation centre had been doing a roaring trade until a group of architecture students on a weekend retreat smoked too much herb, fell into the candlelit Buddha shrine and knocked it flying.

The old wooden barn had shot up in flames like a Chinese firework, sending young architects fleeing and the stench of formaldehyde-tainted carpets billowing into the air. Worse still, the smoke was infused with the aroma of eight kilos of burning weed.

As the smell wafted towards the local police station, Sparky and Super Dave had fled. They were now hiding in an empty container at the docks.

I haven’t heard from Sparky again. Either the formaldehyde finished him off, or he and poor Super Dave are halfway to Shanghai.


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The $50 Guru

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Feel the Heal of the Magic Crystals!

My friend Sparky has become a New Age spiritual guru. He apparently experienced a transcendental revelation after falling over a beer cooler at a barbeque. Coincidentally, that same evening his trucker buddy Super Dave offered him a cheap shipment of healing crystals that had materialized in the back of his rig. It was a sign, Sparky told me. If I gave him $50 he would revitalize my aura. Seemed like a bargain.

He brought round a box of sparkling crystals. I was to place them around the house and rub them when I felt my Ch’i take a turn for the worse, although I wasn’t sure what that felt like. The crystals were calming to look at as they twinkled in the sunlight. But after spending $200 on vet fees to retrieve one from my cat’s stomach, I decided to return them. Sparky wouldn’t give me a refund. He said the crystals’ energy was depleted and he couldn’t resell them. And one appeared to have teeth marks.

Feng Shui FooeyTrance

Sparky offered to re-energize my house using the Chinese technique of Feng Shui, which he had been studying all day on Wikipedia. He wandered around the house in a trance, sensing levels of free-flowing energy and identifying areas where it got stuck. I heard him make a lot of fuss around the refrigerator, but it turned out he was just making a sandwich to rejuvenate his Ch’i. It was very draining work, he said.

He moved all my furniture to face north, rearranged my wardrobe and asked if he could take the coffee table as it was adversely affecting the energy flow. And a $20 contribution would be appreciated; he would donate it to the local holistic herbalist. To be honest the house didn’t feel energized. I couldn’t see the TV from my north-facing couch and the lack of coffee table was adversely affecting my ability to put anything down.

Mmm, greasy!Massage

Sparky sensed my chakra was misaligned and suggested some hands-on therapy. He was taking an internet course in Thai massage, learning the ancient tradition via a live feed from a Bangkok parlour. Give him a soft towel, massage oil (Canola oil would do) and somewhere to balance his video camera and he would heal me in no time. Super Dave was interested in learning too, could he come along and watch? I declined Sparky’s generous offer and gave him $20 to bugger off. He left me the number of his buddy’s telephone Reiki service and headed off to his holistic herbalist.

I went round to Sparky’s house today to reclaim my coffee table but he was out. Apparently he and Super Dave have given up New Age spirituality and are attending a Hypnotism training course at the local community hall. I’m not falling for that.

If he gives me $50 he can practice on the cat.

 

Massages are free over at Humor-Blogs.com


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