Recapping and Food for Thought

Preface

I’m starting to feel this blog is evolving into something I had never actually planned for. I’m getting regular readers and I feel I need to give these dedicated, constant readers a little more bang for their buck (Don’t worry, I’m not charging for it yet). I’ve sat down and tried my best to create a more structured and aesthetically pleasing blog. So stay tuned over the following days and weeks for the changes, and if you want, you can tweet me @ThatChrisMorris and tell me if you hate/like/love/freaked out/turned on/inspired or downright loath the blog. Also, I’d like to encourage others to start their own blog, it’s not hard and it’s a great stress reliever. To anybody that would like to start their own ramblings of a blog, I would like to offer a guest spot here at Bloggin’ With Chris. Maybe you want to donate your pearls of wisdom or maybe you want to give your opinion on a topic I have discussed…whatever you want to say, my podium is all yours, I have no rules and no guidelines, so if you feel you want to bestow some words to the blogging world, put pen to paper or fingers on keys and inundate me with a deluge of your creative juices.

Again, thanks for reading and on with the show…

ACT I

Well, yesterday’s blog stirred a reaction that I didn’t think would happen. I didn’t think that talking about my personal sex life would be an issue for people. Not all of you of course, and even those of you who did voice your opinion, both digitally and, if you were lucky enough to catch me yesterday, to my face, you were all very elegant in your uneasiness of the topic. I suppose I should take a moment and clear a few things up. Firstly, it would seem that a few women thought it was a bad idea for me to talk about how bad I am in bed. I would like to point out, that while I thought it was a funny little anecdote about my sexual prowess, it was not an indication to suggest that sex with me is akin to that of two epileptic mountain goats trying to perform fellatio on each other … (all I can think of now are two goats precariously perched atop a mountain side in a sixty nine position, I’m such a child).

Secondly, the retelling of the loss of my innocence was not a behind the back stab at the young girl in question, most certainly not. To the best of my knowledge she moved on to have a very fruitful and active sex life. She wasn’t horribly scarred, nor did the experience scare her away from men, she is still comfortably heterosexual and probably enjoys cock like any other well adjusted woman. I’m fairly sure she doesn’t read the blogs and if she does, please drop me a line or maybe tweet me and tell me if you think my account was an accurate portrayal or did I embellish? I’ll even publish your exact words with no editing if you would like to tell your side of the story. You know who you are and you know how to contact me…

ACT II

What is taboo these days? It’s just too hard to keep up anymore. Are there certain topics that should remain locked in the social etiquette vault? I understand that there are issues that can cause certain people to feel apprehensive when brought up in a social circle. Words like ‘Abortion’ ‘Rape’ ‘Gay Rights’ and ‘Willie Nelson’ make some people cringe when spoken out loud. I respect an individual’s right to be offended, but just remember, as the wise Ricky Gervais once said ‘Just because you’re offended, doesn’t mean you’re right’. What would be the point in getting offended and upset with some prehistoric Neanderthal’s jaded view on the world? No point at all, just chuckle and move on. Seeing as I am on a quote fuelled run today, here’s another one I happen to like and use quite often when out and about conversing with said Neanderthals, from the brilliant mind of Mark Twain ‘Do not argue with an idiot, they will bring you down to their level and beat you with experience’. I’ll admit, I’ve had the shit beaten out of me by idiots before.

What I’m getting at with the whole taboo and forbidden topic issue is that I will never set out to offend someone, to be honest; it’s not enjoyable and it's way too easy to achieve. Anybody can talk offensive drivel; try an intelligent conversation once in a while. I know it sounds daunting and you might just learn something, but give it whirl, it’s actually quite fun.

~INTERMISSION~

I love eating out (minds out of the gutter, I’m off the sex talk for at least a week). I love eating out at bars, restaurants, pubs and clubs. I like finding new tucked away places and getting the whole experience. Last night it was dinner at a quaint little place called ‘The Queen's Head’ a nice and modest hidden bar in North Adelaide. The food was exceptional and the ambiance was well above par. Open fire place, bookshelves, leather couches and old black and white photos hang around the place to give you an almost nostalgic feeling. The problem I have is not with the bar itself, it was with one individual behind the bar. It’s not a huge issue and normally I would just let it go, however, this incident bordered on the inhumane. I approached the bar with a menu in my hand ready to order my food. I knew what I wanted and my service time would have taken no longer than 45 seconds. As I approached, at the exact same time, a large group of young women also sidled up to the bar (about 10 or 12 in total). ‘Here we go’ I thought ‘What will she do?’ Surely serve the one gentleman waiting before the large group of hungry women’ I couldn’t be more wrong. I waited for twenty-two long and tedious minutes to place my order. A glimmer of hope in my eye every time one woman had placed her order, that maybe, just maybe the young barkeep will turn to me and let me order my food … ‘For fuck sake I am hungry! And I just want to sit back down’ … No. You’ll wait is what the food God’s had decided. A nice little ploy from the publicans of ‘The Queen's Head’ because no matter what food they bring out, you’ll eat the fuck out of it because now you’re the hungriest fucking hippo in the game.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'I DON'T WAIT FOR FOOD, I EAT PROMPTLY AT 7'

SEX, SEX, SEX...He’s finally talking about SEX

I was told blog a little more about sex. The audience will love it they said. Truth is, you guys don’t want to hear me go on and on about sex, partly because A) I’m no good at it and B) I’m REALLY no good at it. I’m actually better at making pizza than I am at having sex.

On the weekend I got to thinking, ‘I’ve been sexually active for 14 years’ (everybody in their head right now is doing a quick extrapolation of the math, ‘that made him how old when he...’) I’ll save you the mental strain, it made me 16.

Save your judging for another sinner, 16 is a perfectly fine age to lose your innocence.

All in all the experience wasn’t horrible; it was no John Hughes film either. It was over very quickly; I bumbled and fumbled my way around her anatomy, almost like like a blind man reading some ancient convoluted brail, and that was just my hands, I had been using them to feel my way around for 16 years, if they were getting lost, what chance did my penis have of finding his way around? And he didn’t. Try after try I finally managed to introduce my shy and timid penis into the now highly frustrated vagina of a girl, who in reality, when I think back to it, was probably more frightened than I was. So, the moment has arrived, I’m doing it, it’s actually happening. I’m having sex. Well, I think I am. Am I doing this right? How would I know if I was doing it wrong? She doesn’t look impressed Chris! Try something else...what do you mean try something else? What else do you know? Your sexual history is now exactly 28 seconds long, you don’t have a back catalogue of moves to draw inspiration from. Her face is changing. Is she grimacing? Is she not enjoying this? She looks uncomfortable...stroke her hair. You’ve seen people do that in the movies (I stop and stroke her hair)... She flinches...Nope, she didn’t like that. Just finish it Chris; she isn’t enjoying herself and your thinking way too much.

I finish up with a solid game time of well under 3 minutes and a sex story that I’ll be able to tell for years to come (Definitely no pun there)

It was awkward, it was clumsy and not much has changed in 14 years. I’m still that goofy, unsure and inept guy when it comes to sex. I wish I could sing you a different tune but I really can’t. I might not be able to get you off between the sheets, but I sure can cook you one helluva meat lover’s pizza!

~INTERMISSION~

I have an average sized penis. It does the job and it’s nothing to write home about (not that you ever would...

’Greetings Wonderful Family, the voyage across the vast oceans has been a tumultuous one to say the least, we have lost six souls since the last half moon and I’m starting to suspect Roberts is getting a case of Deep Sea Dementia, I’ll have to keep an eye on him, he is our cook after all. By the way, it’s just an average sized penis I have. Nothing fancy, probably looks like everyone else’s to be completely honest. I’m not concerned about it one bit, I certainly don’t obsess over it or anything. It does look kind of unappealing when flaccid, but really, does that matter? It’s girth is good, I’m very pleased with the girth. I caught a glimpse of Roberts’ cock in the kitchen last night; he was cooking naked, and his looks like mine. It was easy to tell because he was erect at the time. All I’m trying to say is, if you were thinking about it at all, is that it is perfectly fine and functioning. Testicles could be a little larger, but hey, what can you do about it? I look forward to my arrival home. Stay safe family, with all my love – Captain James Cook April 19^th, 1770’)

Part of me would like to believe that a letter like that actually exists and that Captain Cook did have a complex with his penis, and that he did have a pseudo strange cook onboard that liked to prepare food naked.

I kid though, about the whole penis size thing, I only raise it because the debate ‘Does size matter?’ tickles my funny bone (hehe...bone) As a man, I will never know the answer. And, to be totally honest and forthright, I really don’t care. I’ll let the insecure men lose sleep at night over thinking it. Like I have heard time and time again...‘It’s how you use it’ or ‘it’s the motion of the ocean’ that matters, these words should give us men comfort and solace...not me however, I can certainly attest to the fact I surely do not know how to use it. I have seen video’s on youtube of monkeys that have a better understanding of their penis’s than I do (of my own of course, not of theirs).

Let the open forum begin. Tell me your thoughts, tell me your opinions. Tell me a crazy story about your first time, or, if you’re feeling creative enough, write me a creative sexual letter. Maybe Abe Lincoln wrote home to Missus Lincoln about his sexual fetishes or maybe Napoleon became so aroused riding on horseback he had stop and masturbate every 5 miles and just had to write home to Josephine about it! Balls in your court now (That pun WAS intended!).

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'SO WHAT IF I'M A VIRGIN!'

Just Breathe

Yes I understand that every life must end, aw huh
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw huh
I’m a lucky man to count on both hands
The ones I love

Some folks just have one,
Others they got none, aw huh

Stay with me
Let’s just breathe.

Practiced are my sins,
Never gonna let me win, aw huh
Under everything, just another human being, aw huh
Yeah, I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world
To make me bleed.

Stay with me
You’re all I see.

Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t I’m a fool you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean

I wonder everyday
as I look upon your face, aw huh
Everything you gave
And nothing you would take, aw huh
Nothing you would take
Everything you gave

Did I say that I need you?
Oh, Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t I’m a fool you see

No one know this more than me.
As I come clean

Nothing you would take, everything you gave.
Hold me till I die
Meet you on the other side

~INTERMISSION~

The above lyrics are to a song called ‘Just Breathe’. The only reason I am not blogging a rant or my thoughts on some crazy topic today is because 1) it’s Friday and I’ve opted to make Friday blogs stand out and 2) Last week when I mentioned that Pearl Jam are my favourite band and someone retorted with ‘Are they still around?’ I was mildly frazzled, in short, yes; they are alive and well and still tour more than any other band on the planet. Not bad for a bunch of gentlemen who celebrated their 20 years in the music industry last year. Watch out Rolling Stones, I think Pearl Jam are the only contenders to dethrone your accolades for longevity. They should crack the 50 year mark with ease.

Thirdly, this song holds special meaning for me. The words are poetic, moving and poignant. Given just the right situation and mood, it can definitely make my eyes teary.

What song brings out emotions in you? Be it happy or sad, angry or calm. I have an ironic song that makes me feel calm ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ by Foster the People (read the lyrics if you can’t see the irony).

Also, before I leave you with some music for the weekend, be sure to follow me on Twitter @ThatChrisMorris I’m tending to tweet more than I Facebook these days.

Without any further ado, let’s all start our weekend with a little sexy soul music, this is for all the lovers out there. Enjoy your weekend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18TLHhhHZCA

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'SO, WHO DID LET THE DOGS OUT?'

The Good Old Days

I won’t lie, I’m a sentimentalist. I constantly find myself reminiscing about the past, not always to the same time frame, just back to those days that stand out in my mind as being the better days.

I grew up as a teenager in the 90’s, being a kid back then was great. I believe every generation thinks they had it best, but I really mean it when I say we did. Just like the generation before me, we also didn’t have mobile phones, text messaging, social media or any other high tech gadgetry to stay in touch. If you were out and wanted to catch up with a friend, you would take fifty cents to the phone box, dial their home number and pray that your friend was home, because if they weren’t, you would lose your fifty cents and get stuck talking to the parentals. Also, growing up in Australia in the 90’s, we witnessed the birth of the internet (IT gurus, I am well aware internet protocol was around before the 90’s, I’m talking about when it became mainstream in Australian households). No other generation will ever get to experience what it is like being a 14 year old boy trying to download low resolution porn from a 28.8Kbps modem with fragmented line after fragmented line, performing an erotic strip tease before your very eyes, but wait, what’s that? Is someone coming? Quick, turn off the interweb....internet! Bah, whatever it’s called. Mum comes bursting through the door, “What are you up to Chris?” “Just looking around this web thingy”. Forty-five minutes of my Saturday afternoon wasted.

Yep, 90’s kids had it well. We got the Ninja Turtles, The Fresh Prince, Captain Planet, Doug, Power Rangers, Seinfeld and The X Files. Arnold was still making movies and reality TV wasn’t trashy. Poking someone still had a literal meaning and if you tweeted you were mocking a blue jay. Burger joints didn’t have to tell you how they were slowly killing you with unnecessary kilojoules and a bag of mixed lollies were only twenty cents. Didn't the air just taste and smell cleaner back then? The skies seemed bluer and the people more friendly? Yes, take me back to those halcyon days anytime, I surely do miss them.

~INTERMISSION~

I want to take a moment to say thank you to the handful of readers from Russia, behind Australia, you fine people are reading my blog more than any other country, so for that, I say thank you. I won’t leave out the few from the USA, your patronage is also commendable. However, I do want to say a very special hello to the one reader from South Korea. You are my one and only reader from your wonderful country and for some reason, this makes me feel swollen with pride. I’d like you to drop me a line sometime, maybe leave a comment, but for now, this is for you:

독서 주셔서 감사합니다 귀하의 지원은 나에게 많은 의미하고있는 동안 당신이 읽고 계속되어서, 난 계속 쓸 겁니다. 잘 있어요.

To everyone else wo helped me break the 500 view mark in under two weeks, thank you. As long as people keep reading, I'll keep this blog going.

One other thing, I am aware that the past few have been shorter than usual, but, I've had a lot on my mind lately, maybe one day I'll tell you all about it... or not.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says '나 섹시 해요 그리고 난 알아'

Knock Knock?

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, every Tuesday night for the past three or so weeks, the topic of inappropriate jokes has been raised during class (I forgot to mention I study an extra-curricular activity, I’ll touch on that later). Jokes pertaining to such topics as racism, homosexuality, abortion, rape, religion etc.

I would like to clear up a few issues I have with the above topics when used in conjunction with humour. I’d like it to be known I am very liberal when it comes to humour and I will most certainly come forward right now and say not one joke will ever offend me. However, I understand that not all individuals are like myself, and don’t take jokes in the same fashion as I. I have one rule of thumb when making jokes or witty remarks when it comes to sensitive issues, and quite simply it is this ‘The listener of your humour should be able to recognize it is a joke and laugh along with you, not feel vilified for his/her own belief’ ... essentially, if you intend on making a joke on homosexuality, then I will expect you to be clever enough to entertain the gay community with the same joke. Now, all this being said, I also understand that some people aim for the ‘shock value’ humour, again, I have no problem with shock value, in fact, I personally enjoy it. Just remember, shock value does not mean crucifying an entire community, such legendary comedians have been using shock value comedy since the late 50’s. The greats such as George Carlin or Richard Pryor, for example, consistently used shocking humour in their routines, but did so with such a command of the English language, with vast linguistic skills and tact that everyone understood the humour and didn’t feel ousted for having an opinion or belief.

One comedian in particular who is known for writing about socially awkward and inappropriate situations is Larry David, a personal idol of mine, you only need to watch one episode of his hit TV series ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ to see just exactly how to write shock value humour. Larry David keeps a poster behind his desk where he does all his comedic writing, the poster quite simply has a clown on it with the statement ‘Funny? Jokes that injure others, waste time, hurt records...are never jokes. Let’s think twice’

And I couldn’t agree more...let’s all think twice.

~INTERMISSION~

Okay, so I’ve had my rant and now I can here you all saying ‘Think you can make a joke without castrating an entire community?’ Honestly, of course I can.

Start off with a little self deprecating humour, something light, something like this ‘I was fucking this guy last night and I reached around and felt his cock...and it was hard! Shocked I pulled my hand off and said “What’s this shit? I don’t fuck gay guys!”’ It’s a gay joke, but it doesn’t really offend anyone (unless you have an aversion towards words like fuck and cock).

Give it a try sometime, tell a controversial joke without offending someone or an entire group of people, you will find it a lot more satisfying getting reactions from your clever jokes rather than from your jokes that portray hatred and vilification.

What do you think? Do you have a particular topic that you feel shouldn’t be joked about? Are you as liberal as I am or do you simply not care and think a joke is a joke and should be told no matter what? Tell me below.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'MAKE FUN OF ME AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS'

Aurora, Colorado

Today’s episode is a short one. No fan fare, no jokes, no innuendos. Today I’m not feeling it. I could have faked it, written a little piece about why I think it’s odd nobody ever questions how it is even possible for three little pigs to build houses out sticks, straw and bricks with nothing but hooves, they simply would not have the dexterity to achieve such high standards of quality housing, especially the little swine fucker that used bricks and mortar, and don’t even get me started on the three blind mice; of course they are running, she cut off their tails with a carving knife. My question is, why do they have to be blind in the nursery rhyme? That’s just cruel.

I contemplated not even bloggin’ today, alas, I stand by my convictions and promise to do one a day. I suppose it was several factors that brought down my mood this morning. I woke up feeling quite fine, I took Oliver for a walk and we met a nice elderly couple over at the park, he even got a kind petting from a pair of friendly school kids, which always make us both happy.

What actually brought my mood down was reading an article that a friend of mine had shared on Facebook. It was an open letter from Jason Alexander (TV’s George Costanza from Seinfeld) posted on twitlonger.com explaining his sorrow and sympathies for the victims of the Aurora, Colorado massacre a few days ago. Mr Alexander didn’t just express his genuine sadness; he went into his feelings and beliefs about gun control in the US. I won’t reiterate what has already been said, but I will share the article as I also feel something needs to be done to stop these senseless acts of pure evil. Such a heinous crime defies all logic.

http://www.twitlonger.com/show/if2nht

Today my thoughts are with those who lost loved ones in Aurora.

I’ll come back tomorrow with some witty banter no doubt about some useless factoid or asinine pop culture reference, but today, I can’t think of anything that makes me want to write that silly nonsense.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'ALL GUNS ARE WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION'

One direction? Maybe two or three...

Is getting lost on a journey half the fun in making it to your destination in one piece? I think so. On the weekend I got lost trying to find a pub that on the map would appear to be no longer than a 10 minute drive away from my house. I don’t live in a small country town or in a convoluted, suburban maze of back streets. I can read a road map and I even have GPS on my smart phone. Adding insult to injury, the streets leading up to this mysterious black hole of a pub were aptly named First Street, Second Street, Third Street etc. So you can imagine the ire building up inside me as I am becoming more and more befuddled with this Twilight Zone situation I’ve created for myself. Keeping a long story short, I eventually found this hidden little gem of a watering hole and I think I may even make it my local. I figure, if I can’t find it easily, there is a great chance others won’t and I’ll have the place to myself most of the time (you’ll have to forgive me for not giving out the name of this wonderful tavern, if you’re lucky I may take you for a drink there sometime...blindfolded of course).

So, does the old proverb ‘Getting there is half the fun’ hold true? I believe so. I thoroughly enjoy my time on my way to any destination, be it on the way to the supermarket, pub or driving to a small, beachside town for the weekend. I enjoy getting lost, going astray and quizzically looking at a map with a frowned brow, all the while in my head I’m like ‘Jesus, where the hell are we?’

Which got me to thinking, all those family vacations we took when I was a child, did we really mean to end up in those places? Or did Dad simply get lost along the way and settle for whatever location he ended up in? I have clear recollections of Dad looking out the car windows with that same frowned brow and a look on his face as if to say ‘Where are we?’

I can’t wait to have my own children one day and put them through the same experience as me on family holidays. The difference between my father and myself...I’ll happily admit I am lost, simply because I just can't hide that confused look of 'This aint right!'

~INTERMISSION~

I took Oliver to the beach yesterday. On Sunday mornings the beach comes alive with vibrant activity and pet owners walking their gourmet breeds. Ollie strides along with his small legs power walking through the sand like four little furry pistons. He attracts all sorts of attention, predominantly with small children as they giggle at his curly tail.

My signature move the moment I get out of the car and head towards the promenade is to grab a council provided doggy bag, being the responsible pet owner that I am. Olster loves the jetty, it’s his favourite part of his time spent at the beach, he loves watching the fisherman, he loves the seagulls perched on the hand rail and he loves the small children coming up to pet him. Now, what I don’t love is Olsen losing control of his bowls half way up the jetty. Any other form of a faecal deposit  would have been acceptable; however, the little Prince suffered a spell of diarrhoea. Pure fear takes over me as I scan the crowd to see if we have been busted. I think we are in the clear; no one seems to have noticed this pedigree animal shit himself. I pull the black plastic doggy waste bag from of my pocket and gently feel for the opening, as my luck would have it, the bag tears right down the middle, what I am now holding is a square piece of plastic or in other words, a completely useless fucking tool to clean up liquid dog shit. The Buddha is now looking up at me with contempt as I try my best to mop the jetty with my makeshift cleaning cloth. Of course the bin is back at the start of the jetty, and I now have to walk a good 30m with a dripping plastic bag of runny poo, with a pungent odour so foul that other dogs are turning their backs to us. If I had a magic parasol, I would have done a Mary Poppins right there and set off into the clear blue skies, never to be seen again. 

Have you ever had a mishap with your beloved pet? Maybe he went to the toilet in a public place? Maybe he knocked over a small child and made them cry? I think at some point we have all been ashamed of our little darlings. Let me know what shenanigans your cats and dogs have gotten up to.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'ACCIDENTS HAPPEN'

Family Guy (Not the TV show)

I come from a fairly large family, and when I say family, I mean my immediate family. Not uncles or aunts, cousins and what have you. I come from a family of two parents and six kids. I’ve always broken my siblings into two parts, the older ones and the younger ones. My folks had three kids in just less than four years. Starting in 1978 and ending with the arrival of me in 1982. 1978 is my eldest brother, then along came my sister in 1981 followed closely by little ‘ol me in 1982. I fine year indeed, Spielberg made E.T and Eye of the Tiger by Survivor was the number one song of the year (with Down Under by Men at Work hot on its heels!).

That’s the line up the family toured with for about nine years until the accidental arrival of my first little brother in 1991. Don’t read in shock and horror when I say ‘accidental’ my folks have no problem admitting we were all inadvertent by-products of sexy times. The old man went on a sexual hiatus for six years until he and Mum had another ‘accident’ (By now you’d think they would have learnt) and brought forth my third brother, then came along the sixth and final member of the clan in 2001. I feel honoured and privileged to be a member of an exclusive society spanning over four decades.

Now, the most interesting part is how different we all are. I honestly believe that if you were to put us all in a room, not even a genealogy grad student would be able to tell that we are family. Not just aesthetically, but also personality. We are six very different people, with six very different opinions, which makes for great conversations over Sunday roast.

I won’t talk too much about my family, mostly for their own privacy, and secondly because two of my kinfolk probably wouldn’t like to be talked about in such a public forum (If any of you five siblings of mine are reading this, right now you’re trying to work out who I’m talking about no doubt).

Instead, I’ll touch on my own feelings about starting a family. Do men get clucky? Because I would really like a child, I think kids are great, more so, if they are your kids. In my early, mid and late twenties I didn’t put much thought into rearing children (minds out of the gutter) but in the past six months or so I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Of course, my family plan has a myriad of holes in it, primarily the fact I am single. Also, now that I have made this public announcement, I can see women running as far away from me as possible, thinking I’ll be the one poking holes into the contraceptive. All is not lost however, if my desire to spawn a little person doesn’t happen, I think I would be just as content to join the Big Brother program and partake in this rent-a-kid scheme.

~INTERMISSION~

I’m off to get a haircut tonight. I enjoy a good haircut, the only issue I have with the entire process is the conversations that I am drawn into with my hairdresser. She’s a nice enough girl, and cuts my hair exceptionally well, but she is one of these people that believe in conspiracy theories, government plots and all other sorts of shit you see on The X Files. I have no problem with other people having a hobby or an interest, but what I do have an issue with is someone trying to talk me into believing our government is secretly micro chipping us every time we donate blood. It takes about 20-25 minutes for a standard men’s haircut, you’d be surprised how many wild stories she can concoct in this time. Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t be letting her so close to my head with sharp scissors. Am I alone in this? Do you have a similar situation? Maybe you get stuck talking to your bizarre neighbour or get caught in a circular conversation with your dentist. Are you polite and just agree with these crack pots? Or do you voice your opinion? Let me know, I want to know how everyone else reacts when they get wedged in a conversation they want no part of.  

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'I'D LOVE TO HAVE CHILDREN IF SOMEONE HADN'T HAD ME FIXED'

Flirting With Disaster

I was talking with my brother last night about moving interstate (not with him, on my own), and it occurred to me that it would be extraordinarily uncomplicated to do so. I have nothing tying me down to this state, nor do I particularly enjoy my current working situation. So, I’ve applied for some positions across the border. I was always so hesitant to uproot myself and apply for work in other states, but after thinking long and hard about it, I’ve come to the conclusion that that’s what life is all about, making those scary choices and following through with them. It’s liberating when you get that sense of control, when you decide to grab life by the reigns and ride it to success.

It could all come crashing down and I’ll be back home within twelve months with my tail between my legs, but you know what, at least I can say I gave it a red hot go. My motto for all of you out there that wants to ‘seize the day’ and jump into the deep end of life ‘Just Do It’. You live once, and the really scary part is, it goes so fucking quick that it will all be over before you have the chance to make those decisions. I guess when I come to the end, when I’m sitting on my old creaking rocking chair, looking out over a pasture of long forgotten memories, I only want two things; to know that I loved and was loved and to have no regrets. It really isn’t too much to ask for; well I don’t think so anyway.

At this age of 30 years, I can say I have no regrets. Every choice I’ve made, be it stupid or smart, has made me who I am today. And, I like me. I can only hope that I continue on this same path and continue to make the right choices, I’m fairly confident that I will.

~INTERMISSION~

Off topic completely, the other day I was once again sitting with my brother, when he brazenly told me to go flirt with the bar girl at an establishment that shall remain nameless. Herein lies two issues, issue one; Never flirt with the bar staff. The lovely men and women who pour our drinks work extremely hard and deal with a lot of, for lack of a better word, assholes. On any given day they will be insulted, abused, walked all over and treated like servants. What they don’t need is some cocky, over confident, self obsessed hipster (I’m not describing myself I hope you realize) slithering up to the bar and making the moves. They want to pour your drink, take your money and hope to God you just sit the fuck back down. You’re not the first person to slip your business card to them, remember that. Second issue, I can’t flirt. No real story here, just a simple fact of life. I did try once, and it was horrific. I go into these long winded dialogues, make enormous hand gestures and basically make myself look like a member of a 1930’s travelling freak show. Now, this isn’t to say I won’t ever try again. I’m sure I probably will, just not anytime soon. So, heed the advice, if you are sitting with me at the bar, coffee shop, park bench or what have you, please don’t point to an attractive girl and ask me to go over and flirt with her, as it will be met with a diatribe not so unfamiliar to this one.

And, for anyone wondering, Oliver doesn’t help with drawing in women. Not that I have ever used him as a tool from my bag of tricks. It’s just that I’ve had several people tell me to take him out and watch the women swoon. For the record, they don’t. Sorry Oliver, you’re just not a chick magnet.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT'

Heavenly Sin’s

Yesterday I was having a conversation with a dear friend of mine who just happens to be a devout Catholic. I generally tend to steer clear of religious conversations (not because of my own personal beliefs, more so because there is never a clear winner at the end of the debate). People who know me, know that I am agnostic, and to clarify agnosticism for those who may be a little unsure, Webster’s Dictionary defines agnosticism as: ‘A person who holds the view that any ultimate reality (as God) is unknown and probably unknowable; Broadly: one who is not committed to believing in either the existence or non existence of God or a god’.

So, you can understand why the topic of religion and the discussion of God would not send me into a conversational frenzy. However, on this particular occasion, the issue of God’s sexuality arose. The social acceptance of His gender is widely understood to be male. My friend took the time to clear up this common misconception and stated that God is of no gender, and has no sexual predilection. In a way, I suppose you could say that my friends Lord and Savior, is in fact, A-Sexual.

The conversation flowed on like a small brook in the middle of the Sahara. In fact, I was getting slightly bored by it. My attention was revived as the banter moved to the topic of Adam and Eve being naked in the Garden, and how God’s intentions were for us all to be naked for the duration of our time here on His earth. Eve, being easily swayed by a talking snake, ate from the forbidden tree, making her realize ‘Shit, I’m naked!’ causing the little Miss to now feel, what we call, the emotion of shame and to run off and cover herself with a more dignified, fig leaf. I can only imagine Adam being a little annoyed with the talking asp, in his head thinking ‘That slimy bastard, I was enjoying looking at that’.

Now, I talk on behalf of myself only when I say this, I personally find it more arousing when a woman walks around in lingerie rather than completely exposed. Essentially, if I were Adam, living alone in a garden with a woman walking around partially naked, with only a fig leaf to covering her lady bits, I’m not sure I would be able to hide my happiness (pretty sure they didn’t have banana leaves in the garden).

~INTERMISSION~

Staying on Heavenly topics, it was brought to my attention from my educated Catholic friend, that in the eternal afterlife, the need for clothes is not required and we will all spend eternity stripped down to our bare ass. Now, for those of you keeping up with the blogs, you would have heard me rant yesterday about my reluctance of public nudity. When quizzed by my buddy ‘Why is this an issue for you?’ I couldn’t explain quickly enough that my grandmother has passed on, and I have massive issue’s reminiscing with her while naked. Why do we have to be naked in the spirit world? Is this God’s sick little joke?

Thinking a little deeper, I couldn’t help but wonder, if we are all going to be fully exposed whilst above, is it fair to assume that our sinful equivalent’s down below are doing a nudey run along the river Styx? Which raises even more questions, would you rather be nude above or below? I know personally, I hate the cold weather, and Heaven does seem a little breezy up there, with all the clouds and what have you. If I am going to spend my eternity with my equipment on display, I think I want to be in warmer surroundings. We all know what happens to men when the weather drops a few degrees. I just can’t have that perpetually plaguing my mind for eternity.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver asks 'DO ALL GOOD DOGS GO TO HEAVEN?'

Naked Fears

I was at the doctors the other day and, as you do, I reached over and grabbed the nearest magazine from the side table. Turns out to be an issue of Cosmopolitan from September 2001, which isn’t a problem, just means the celebrity gossip is a little outdated, but the sealed section is the only thing I care about from those girly magazines anyway. Naturally, the perforated seal had been broken and many eyes had ogled at the pictures of bare breasted women and the buttocks of, what appeared to be, a man in his late 20’s. This issues sealed section was titled ‘Who is more afraid of their naked body, him or her?’ instantly my ears pricked up. What a great question! I for one know I am against all forms of public nudity when it comes to my own flesh. I could never go to a nudist colony or beach, I live in fear of a doctor asking me to take my pants off and even showering in someone else’s house makes my blood run cold. Call me an introvert, but, I only let certain people on this planet see me naked, one of them is Oliver (That’s my dog if you haven’t been following these blogs) and another individual who shall remain nameless to protect them from the barrage of questions that would come their way.

I recently joined a gym for the first time in my life, I had never stepped foot in one prior to joining, so you can imagine my shock when I used the change rooms for the first time. I saw penis after penis, and it seems that these men have no fear. They walk around with pride and self assurance, basically only missing a little blue ribbon hanging from their testicles. The complete opposite to me, the fear must permeate from my pores. 

Do women act this way in the gym? Do they walk around with pride and enjoy showing off what God gave them? Or are there women out there like me, reclusive and shy?  I guess I’ll never know.

So, the article was explaining how women have extreme concerns and worries in the bedroom when they get naked in front of a man. ‘Do my breasts look good?’ ‘Can he see my cellulite?’ ‘Does my ass look huge in this light?’ ‘Did I shave my legs?’ All these concerns prevent them from enjoying the carnal act. However, the article went on to question, maybe men have these same issues in the boudoir. ‘I don’t have a six pack’ ‘Is my back too hairy?’ ‘What if I can’t perform?’ So essentially we now have two naked people standing in front of each other petrified. Is there a way around this sexually awkward situation? Do you suffer from nudity stress? Are you truly comfortable in your own skin, enough to flaunt it in the bedroom?

~INTERMISSION~

To digress just slightly away from the nudity issue and move onto underwear, I have a simple question for women who wear g-strings (Thongs for our Red, White and Blue counterparts) are they really comfortable? I have never actually worn one myself, so I can’t be too judgmental. However, the premise of the g-string has always made me squirm (Not to look at of course, great to look at, I mean to wear). So, I ask the question, are you wearing the erotic underwear solely to titillate your partner or do you actually enjoy the comfort of your floss like friend? I’m not ashamed to admit that I wear boxer shorts, cotton not silk. I can assure all of you that they are comfortable, and above all else, respectable. Tell me readers; is underwear for comfort or erotic appeal? Do you buy your undergarments based on who will be viewing them? Does being single sway your decision in lingerie shopping? Comment below, but only if you’re extroverted enough to come clean.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'BE LIKE ME, EMBRACE NUDITY'

Board Games

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved board games. I’m a thirty year old security guard that still gets off on playing mouse trap. Being single and living alone dramatically hinders my board game addiction. I could play Jenga by myself or maybe Ker-plunk. Scrabble is out, as is monopoly. Classics like Battleship now sit collecting dust in the spare room.

One of my favorite games as a kid was The Game of Life. I guess being a kid and not really knowing what life had in store, it was almost like playing with Tarot cards. You’d spin that little numbered spin wheel, move your piece and land on options like ‘Go to College or go into the workforce’, I remember back thinking that was one of the hardest decisions I had to make as a child. To be totally honest, I haven’t played that game since I was a kid, but I still remember the board and game play like I only reveled in it this morning.

My only concern, thinking back, and now being an adult, someone really needs to update the game and make it a little more modern. To take into account today’s economic climate. I for one would like to see new additions to the game. Maybe even new versions, like ‘The Game of Life: The Slums Edition’ where you can chose to play as a 14 year old girl with opening choices like ‘Get pregnant or get addicted to crack’ or even ‘The Game of Life: USA edition’ with options like ‘Get into debt or get into debt’. Even an Australian version would be kind of awesome ‘The Game of Life: Down Under’ opening decisions like ‘Get a Holden or get a Ford’. The ultimate version ‘The Game of Life: The World Edition’ where Greece can’t afford to play and London volunteers to host but then down pours with a deluge of rain. How about new endings? Like ‘Retire? Pfft, yeah right…you lost 100K during the GFC, go back 30 years and start again’. Come on Milton Bradley, listen to my ideas, they’ll work.

I also think Monopoly could do with a revision. I know they came out with the ‘Here and Now’ edition, adding cute little accompaniments like using credit cards instead of cash and having a Leer jet as a token piece. The credit card add on I felt was slightly irresponsible for children, teaching them that it is okay to live on credit. I’d like to see ‘Monopoly: The Communist China Edition’ where the only colour for sale on the board are the red properties and your tokens are IPod’s and Nike shoes. There is no jail, but you do get ten public lashings for looking at a government official in the eye. How about ‘Monopoly: Syria Edition’ where the game never actually starts and all players must protest about who will take control. Better still ‘Monopoly: Greece’ nobody has any money, the player in control of the bank is corrupt, all other players are sitting jail and all the property now belongs to that 14 year old crack head who is playing ‘The Game of Life’.

Yes, I do love my board games. If only life were more like them. To be able to live based on the outcome of a simple role of the dice. If each day you received a ‘CHANCE’ card in the mail. If coming across a ladder actually took you closer to the top.  If owning four houses instantly entitled you to owning a hotel. If there really was a mystical place called ‘GO’ that gave you two hundred dollars each time you passed. Yes, life would be a lot more interesting.

Do you have a favorite game? Is there one from your childhood that stands out? What versions of games would you like to see? Comment below and let me know, surely I am not the only grown man addicted to these enticing little time wasters.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'CAN I PLAY?'

Pet Morality

The other day I posted an update on Facebook saying how Oliver ran off with my towel while I was in the shower. Not thinking it was a big deal, I received multiple comments about how I let my dog in the bathroom with me while I shower. ‘Does he see you naked?’ seems to be the greatest concern for some people. The answer, ‘Yes, yes he does’ and I’m still baffled by the horror this stirs in people. Oliver is a dog. He has no concept of human anatomy and he is completely oblivious to a flaccid penis.  He doesn’t stare at me and salivate, he minds his own business. One individual went even further and stated that only certain animals should be allowed to see you naked...’Okay, you got me, which animals?’ at this point in the conversation I am all ears, without hesitation he states ‘Birds, it’s okay for birds to see you naked’...’Okay, you got me again, why is it okay for birds to see you naked but not a dog?’ Now I’m really on the edge of my seat! ‘Well Chris, birds don’t have any visible genitalia, so when they see you naked, they don’t actually know what they are even looking at’. This is the point in the conversation I had to let simmer for a moment. Birds don’t know what genitals are, his big argument. Essentially, according to my hapless friend, if an animal has no visible signs of genitalia then it is perfectly acceptable for the creature to join you in the shower (in the room, not in the actual cubicle!). The notion kind of threw me off guard. I’ve certainly never seen a crocodile’s penis, but would still be hesitant to bathe with one.

~INTERMISSION~

 On the subject of pets, last night I was on the couch, it was about 10 o’clock, the lights were off and I was watching something meaningless on TV. Oliver was sitting on my lap and out of nowhere, he jumps up, racing over to the wall and proceeds to bark over and over at nothing in particular. I live alone, so naturally my brain instantly jumps to the supernatural. We’ve all heard it before, animals have a natural receptor to the paranormal. Can they sense other worldly beings? Is my house haunted? Could Oliver see something that I couldn’t?

The most likely scenario is that there was a miniscule bug crawling up the wall that I couldn’t see in the dim light of the lounge room and Oliver had spotted the little aphid from across the room. It does still make your heart race when your pet becomes agitated over nothing. It also doesn’t help that Friday the 13^th was coming up (The actual date, not the film).

I’m not a believer in the paranormal, never have been, I have never seen, felt, touched or even sensed the presence of anything supernatural. I’ve heard this is because I am a skeptic, that entities don’t make themselves known to non-believers. This is biggest bowl of crazy I’ve ever eaten from. You’d think if you were a ghost/entity/benevolent spirit then you would want to make yourself known to the non-believers. I for one know for a fact that when I do shuffle off this mortal coil and into the unknown, if I do get the chance to come back and make my presence known, I will not be hanging around Mystic Megs Hotline and feeding her advice from beyond the grave. I’ll be making sure I am standing right next to Barack Obama as he addresses the nation.

Comment below if you have ever had an experience from beyond the grave? What did you see? Do you have evidence? Was it a pleasant or horrific experience? More importantly, has anyone ever met my hero’s Lennon, Elvis, Hendrix or Morrison?

Today is Friday the 13^th, everyone watch your back, don’t let a black cat cross your path, don’t walk under any ladders and above all else, certainly don’t smash any mirrors! Your bad luck doubles if you do THAT on a Friday the 13^th.

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'I KNOW WHAT I SAW'

Conversations with my twelve year old self.

I read an article recently about a man that interviewed his 12 year old self. Confused? Don’t be. Back in 1992 an aspiring animator/filmmaker filmed himself at the age of 12 answering questions he believed his 32 year old counterpart would ask him 20 years later. The end result is a touching three minute interview that will leave you feeling all reminiscent of your own childhood.

It got me to thinking. What would you say to your 12 year old self? Would you offer any advice? Excluding all the obvious and asinine answers like ‘Bet all your money on Black Caviar!’ with monetary gain aside, what would you like to chat about with yourself? What do you think yourself back then would want to know of you today?

Having thought long and hard about it, I could only come up with one simple statement:

 ‘Just do what you do Chris. You’ll make some bad choices in the next twenty years, but you’ll also make some great ones. You’ll have exceptionally high times, but you will have devastatingly low ones as well. You will love, you will lose, you will cry, you will laugh, you will make friends and you will make enemies. Sometimes you’ll have money and other times you won’t. Sometimes the world won’t make sense and you’ll wonder what it all means and other times you will feel like everything is happening for a reason. You’ll be someone’s beacon on dry land and you will also need someone’s light when you’re in the storm. If I can leave you with one piece of advice, it would be this, trust yourself. You’re a good kid and you will grow into a great man’

Poignant? I thought so.

~INTERMISSION~

There isn’t much we can do about our 12 year old selves today. However, what we can control is ourselves twenty years from now. If you could meet yourself twenty years from now what would you want to know about yourself? What would you ask? Do you want to know how life turns out? Are you curious? Will you be the same person you are today?

The great Mohammed Ali once said “A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty, has wasted thirty years of his life”. Insightful words. How do you view the world today? The sad truth is, not one of us would probably get along with ourselves twenty years from now. I can be honest and say for certainty I wouldn’t get along with myself from 12 months ago, let alone myself twenty years from now.

I’m keeping this blog short. Apologies if it wasn’t long enough to satisfy your lunch break! Instead of reading my ramblings, check out this quick video. It’s the interview I was talking about before the intermission.  

http://video.heraldsun.com.au/2253647943/A-Conversation-with-my-12-year-old-self

Until next time,

-Chris

Oliver says 'SOMETIMES IT IS BETTER NOT KNOWING WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS'