I'm pretty darn awesome

Is that (the Title of this blog) ever a thought that lingers in your mind, dear enlightened and brilliant reader? If it is, well, you don't need to read this anymore, if not, continue reading as I have the perfect cure for it: Walking, Noise Cancelling (or at least limiting) headphones, Steel cap boots, sun glasses and some agressive music.

If your not entirely convinced just yet.. well, wait and I'll tell you why you should be.. (if you are convinced already you may stop reading now).

To convince you, I'll take a subject, a random subject, someone of rather average awesomness, although full of humility and brilliance. Someone with his head tightly screwed onto his shoulders, someone who bragging is as far away from as the second most fartherest sun, someone not awesome, but everything else, someone, just like... ME!

So, this is me then, writing this, not being biased or anything, just accurately been describing myself (I bet you for a while thought I were talking about you, silly reader, with your head all up in the pink fluffy clouds with rabbits on them [eating violet ribboned carrots {with artificial hummus flavour}].

Anyways, before I get carried away onto some tangent (which I'm not usually inclined to do, they are all perpendicular things routes filling out the ever important background story you probably don't know, and probably don't need to know, but that I [being such a nice guy] graciously enlighten you about) about goosebumps and their relation to tennis rackets, let's move on to the story.

So, picture, Me, with a pair of Sun glasses, Steel cap boots (rather worn, ankle high lazeups), black pants, shirt, noise cancelling headphones cutting you and most other noise making things around me, angry music pumping in my ears.. In short, picture perfect twat coolness.

Then I walk (slowly and meassuredly) down the street, minding my own business, listening to brillinat lyrics like "Now you wanna know, you want a name, You wanna call me motherfucker". and "I am a little more provocative then you might need,It's your shock and then your horror on which I feedSo can you tell me what exactly does freedom mean,If I'm not free to be as twisted as I wanna be" growing in stature and coolness as I go, looking at all you squirrels running around..

That, my dear reader friend, is when you just KNOW your pretty darn awesome (although everyone else probably do think you look like a twat (although only one of the definitions...), but who cares? Everyone else are just jealous that your so awesome...

So, there you go, if your not feeling to awesome, you know what to do, if your feeling to awesome most of the time, well, it's probably because you have been reading this blog...

Everyday Revelations

Buenos Dias dear reader (if you exist, rather probable that you don't as I'll never get any comments. Not that I am a particularly frequent blogger of course, a tad lazy I am. But, no, not lazy, just not having enough about nothing to fill up a blog.. Ah, no, I always have a lot of nothing to say.. So lazy, gotto be lazy) in this blog we'll have a look at a thing that hits me every now and again:

Everyday Revelations! (ok, somewhat lost the thunder there by revealing the subject in the title... but pretend you didn't read it)

Now, everyday revelations may not mean all that much to you, or maybe it does, but unfortunately it means the wrong thing.. Either way, I will soon be clear to you what everyday revelations are..

Imagine for a second (or a bit longer, depends how good you are at imagining things) that you are walking down the street, listening to your iPod (or similar) thinking about your nightly plans, what a %%#&^%&^% Double-X at work is, how ignorant Double-Y are (about you and those shoes) and so on and so forth. Now, when your walking, your looking up and see that there is a blue sky, but not entirely blue, there are a bunch of clouds in the way. And suddenly you just realise how amazingly cool those clouds look, the interplay between the sky and the clouds. The way the clouds move over this perfectly blue sky. They way both sky and clouds reflect on the skyskraper (and how amazing a feat it is that skyskraper!). This my dear reader friend, is an everyday revelation.

It is when you notice something mundane (one could call it mundane revelations) that you take for granted, but this time you acutally notice it, and marvel at how awesomely cool it is how hard it would be to replicate etc.

Now, these mundane revelations aren't limited to skies and clouds, they can be anything. You could notice that your celing is painted green, your dog has a peculiar way to wiggle his tail when he sees you, there is a view from your back deck.. Anything goes!

Let me know if you've had a mundane revelation lately

Until next time

Radio

Disclaimer:
If you, dear reader, happen to be an attractive cool youngish, non married, woman that have the completely inaccurate view that I’m radiating coolness and awesomeness you don’t have to read this blog entry. Not that it in any way or form would make you realise, eh, come to the false belief, that I not, in fact, radiating coolness and awesomeness. No no, nothing of the sort, just wouldn’t be a post that you’d find particularity interesting to read, it would be a waste of your time, really.

So, now when all the attractive cool youngish, non married, women have gone of to do something much more interesting that won’t make them realise ($#@!%$@#!%) come to the false conclusion that I’m not radiating coolness and awesomeness we can get on with the main message of this blog post. Namely the thing mentioned in the title: Radio

Radio, I’m not sure if your entirely aware about, is this thing that you put in your car (or a few other places) that magically transforms things some people call radio waves (totally stupid I think, as a more obvious name for them would be ‘incredible magic packages of sound’ or ‘imps’ for short, which is what I’ll be calling them from now on [is i use the term, which I wont]) and outputs various sounds that you can listen to, if you want [one would hope that if you didn’t want to listen to it you’d turn it of, but that would be to much to ask?]. So, now that we have established what ‘Radio’ is we can move on (oh, forgot to mention that there are someone somewhere that gives the original sound stuff to the imps [ooups, I lied before] and that what they give them is what the imps [again..] will deliver to your radio) away from the side tracks and head back to the main line..

Radio, I listen to it mainly when I’m in the car (except when I need to record someone playing piano in some competition, or when I try to setup my amp with the radio station just because it can do it) and I’m going somewhere (like to the shops [or home when I have been to the shops]) and I usually like to listen to something that makes my ears happy (my brain is usually rather disconnected, eh, like in a good way, as it’s focused on driving safely, not thinking about stuff, like space ships, and cool swords, and jumping from great heights and landing coolilly on roofs, and rescuing people that are getting treated badly). Because my (or rather my dear [somewhere else located] friend Mike’s) car doesn’t like being alone for long periods of time and sulks by discharging the battery, I need to disconnect it when I leave it, the 88.7th imp will always be the first one to deliver a message to me. Usually his message is a bit dodgey, so I quickly try to change (by walking backwards) to see if any of the other imps are delivering anything better.

But, usually they aren’t, lets illustrate with an example.

It is Wednesday (22:00) and I’m driving home. (I skipped the first imp this time as betsy didnt have to be alone for very long) And what I have to listen to is ‘Short Fast Loud’ - wow! Next! ‘Justin Timberlake givaway competition’ Next! ‘Annoying guy speaking about things he knows nothing about, but pretends to be really smart and

annoying

cool’ Next! ‘Piano piece by some guy who either lived 400 years ago or have a name you can’t pronounce’ Next! ‘Ricky Martin’ Next!

And there, after Ricky Martin, it is, 98.9FM, Brisbane’s best Country Music Station! The gem in the drain. The needle in the haystack. The avocado among celery. The ray of light in the Dark Tower. The silk for my ears.

??????!! You may now think, but no, don’t think that, think ‘Wow! I have to check it out!’ because if you think about it, how often do you listen to country normally? (hopefully you’ll answer something like ‘Every time I feel like having my kidneys removed’) And you’ll notice that it is, in fact, the only channel worth your time. (Not entirely watertight logic, but every great work starts with a patch..)

So, as I’m very tired and have to go to sleep, try it out (if you don’t live in Brisbane you may be in trouble, but check their website out [http://989fm.com.au/] and see if there are hope for you) and tell me that it wasn’t like the softest silk to your ears (bear in mind that I’m not talking about your mind here)..

Oh, and you don’t need to thank me for opening up this new world of silky, imp delivered, goodness.

For a greater, and silkier, listening

# Facebook sucks Blogger is quite good with html commands…

A lot of whingeing and more whingeing

So, a new blog as opposed to my old one (that is rather dead, or rather, slumbering, as it’s still there, being it’s usual self, but quite, oh so quite [mattiac.blogspot.com]) and new is good you know. Although not always, as old wine is better than new wine, if you select the right one that is. An old white wine isn’t particularly good, or so I’m led to believe, which doesn’t mean that that is the case as I’m pretty easily led to believe stuff (this would be when I use an illustration about when I have been easily led astray, but luckily I have a safety mechanism built in, namely forgetfulness, my mind remembers things “for a very limited time only ($3.95/min)”. Which sometimes comes in handy, but unfortunately it’s not always good, such as when you want to remember an illustration, which I didn’t in the previous example, so then my memory’s forgetfulness suited my purposes, but now, when remembering an illustration would be a good thing, as I wanted to express to you how unfortunate it sometimes is to not remember things. I guess I could lie (and it wouldn’t necessary be a lie as I could have done it and forgot about it) so here it goes, something that probably didn’t happen, but that could possibly have happen if a cat was seen driving a Ferrari down Milton road on a Wednesday afternoon in the rain (oh, in case you forgot, this illustration is to show you how unfortunate it could sometimes be to forget things)

Once, when I was walking down the street I met a red haired lady in an expensive looking suit, she would have been about my age give or take a couple of years, and about 1.73m (which is less than 6 foot, as it being 1.82m or something) and looked like someone I’d like to remember. She said “Hi” (which made me quite happy as I didn’t have to think of a response as I normally have to do when people I meet say “Hihowareyou”, with or without a ? I can never know [well, not entirely true, sometimes they stop and look at you with this waiting look, then I know they want me to reply], ‘case what do you say? when people say “Hihowareyou”, do you go “finethankyouhowareyou” from the corner of your month without turning your head while they walk past? Or do you just reply “Hihowareyou” back? As it’s shorter and you may possibly have said that while they still are in your field of vision? I never know, so I start thinking about how I am, and trying to figure that out and then reply, but when I get to that I need to turn around and shout “NOT SO GOOD, I JUST LOST MY KITTEN WHILE COMFORTING MY LOST WALLET”, which is rather embarrassing) “Hi” I said, “I’m Lizette” she said, “I’m Matt” I managed to say while desperately trying to say “Lizette, Liz-ette, etteziL, over and over in my head (this, I’m told is a good thing to do when you meet new people as it helps you remember their names. Not as good as saying their name out loud a couple of times though, but more practical. How stupid would it have sounded if I’d replied “Hi Lizette, I’m Mattias. Lizette is a different name, I have never met anyone named Lizette before, is it French? Lizettee?“) Then (after a pause or a couple of minutes) she said “Oh, here comes my bus, good to meet you Matt” where I replied “Oh, eh, yeah, good to meet you to ... eeh .. you red haired lady...”

And there it is, how awkward, I didn’t remember her name, because my memory wasn’t very good, like, you know, everything is like super clear now right?

Not sure about you but I have forgotten what I was writing about, which is an illustration of it self I guess, and it’s probably a better and shorter one than the Lizette story, which I must state is (probably) a complete figment of my imagination (if you can say so).

Anyways, I bet your glad you read all this and jump for joy over the fact that my blog is now resurrected in new form!

Quiesence!

Ronnie the Dog, Part 2

Giving this another go... Blogger don't seem to like me much, may be because it's grumpy as I'm here so seldom now a days? Can Blogs go grumpy? Or do the go blumpy??? Sorry.. I should go on and tell you that finally all the legal details have been sorted (I talked to my, previous[ly], lovely neighbour and told him that if he didn't get his act together I'd tell all the world about his pink underwear with fluffy rabbits on [Oups]) and you can finally "enjoy" the final bit in the Ronnie Saga. I really should tell you that it has been a hard year, I have spent many a sleepless night and day trying to remember the details to fully be able to put you "in" the story.... Eh, maybe not, but I could have, not just that I'm a lazy little ######, so, no more preamble here it is, the second and final part of the Missing Ronnie saga:

..........

Now when I found out that Ronnie was missing I of course tought "Good onya Mate!" that he had run away instead of getting bullied into makeing miraculous papadams (or some such) or be thrown in the little blue rubbish bin with orange ribbons (without his chrispy dog biscut at that!).

But when I tought about for a while I came to realise that without Ronnie, who would organise the other dogs in the morning prayer? Who would make those miraculous papadams I so craved (but had never had)? And, I liked Ronnie, the number of times we had sat up under the stars howling at the moon... I knew I just had to find him! His life wasn't that bad, Mr and Mrs Marzoq, for all their dog-make-miracles hookyspooky (not sure if that's a word, but it sounds like it acurately describes what they were up to) weren't all that bad, not all dogs had their own King Sized memory foam mattresses with built in biscuit dispenser.

So I set of right away to find Ronnie, right after talking having dinner, a bath, changed socks and kissed my mum goodnight, pretened to sleep for 18 minutes and sneakily sneaked down in the basement and packed an emergency-dog-finding-pack (contents secret) that is.

But my problem lay in that I, although having ocassionaly sat in on the dogs prayer meetings and howled at the moon, did not have much clue of to where a dog would runaway to if he were to run away (which a dog had done in this case). If figured that if he had run to the moon I'd have to go home and repack my emergency-dog-finding-back somewhat, and as that would require me to sneakily sneak into the basement in the dark I decided against it. So I guessed my best course of action were to try get a dogs perspective on things, so I duly sat down on my hunches and howled at the moon and munched on a crunchy-dog-biscuit.

After about 10 minutes of howling and munching my mouth started to taste like something bad, like crunchy-dog-biscuits I guess would be the best explanation, and sitting on the ground when it's freezing, and your not actually a dog but just trying to be one, is rather over rated i found. I had of course not gained any greater insight into where a dog would run away to when he ran away, apart from knowing that I couldnt sit and munch on crunchy-dog-biscuits and howl at the moon any longer.

But that was enought for me, and I set of in the general direction (not the general direction of anything, just in the general direction of the direction). Now setting of in a general direction, can seem like a nice idea when you have no clue of where it is you want to go, but after a while when you don't really know where the general direction of home is anymore, and when everyone you meet is called Mr or Mrs Pinetree (oh, or Junior Pinetree, but he's generally rather shy) and your visibillity is rather limited as Mr and Mrs Pinetree like to live close to Mr and Mrs Pinetree 2 and 3 and 4 and ..... And they all want Junior's Pinetree to be able to sleep without being disturbed by Mr Moon or Misses Stars, well the general direction is a bit to vague..

At this stage I, even though I was (and am) a very brave young (ish) lad started to get a little bit afraid, especially as I could hear moon howling, and appart from Mr Mutton and his dog Hans, I could think of nonone else living out in these parts. Unless of course it was Ronnie! (with some friends, but Ronnie's always been a popular guy so he'd be bound to make friends with anyone he met). So, with newfound optimism I set out in the not-so-general direction of the howling. But after a while I found that the howling seemed to be moving around, and unfortuantely moving away from me.

Panic!

No way I could catch up with the howling Ronnie and his friends on foot, under Mr's and Mrs's Pinetree, without the help of nice Uncle Sun. Strangely us humans when we panic don't think entierly rational, and I was (..) no exception and started running in the somewhat-more-general direction of the howling, for about 15m or so before I SMACKED into Mr Pinetree 4511 and ended up on my hunches, facing the moon.

Where I opted to do the most natural thing anyone in my position could do; I started howling at the moon and eating crunchy-dog-biscuits... And there, under the tree, whapping (my troat had given up by now) at the moon and munching pine cones (not much different from the crunchy-dog-biscuits) is where the search and rescue party found me in the morning...

Apparently my mum had, when being woken up at 5.37 to 5.38 by praying and barking had run up to my room to tell me the good news that Ronnie hadn't shrinked his responsibilites and had come back in time to lead the prayer. Or well, she would have told me had I been there, and as mums seem to do a lot she panicked (not by running into a tree and howling at the moon) but by shouting for my dad that I was missing and calling all the neighbours to organise a search and rescue party (no point calling the police where we lived as they consisted or Mr Larsson and his blind dog Snuffy who both tended to fancy the pink mushrooms a bit to much).

Well, as you can understand I (after the initial "Ohh, there you are, we have been soooooo worried" hugs and stuff) got into a lot of trouble for runnig away to be with the wolves and howl at the moon (and for stealing dads imported wheatbix) and had to talk to a woman in a white coat that said that I was a huuuman being and not an animal, and that you could tell that by me being able to use my hands when I went to the toilet.. I found that rather stupid as I already knew I wasn't a dog because I didnt much fancy crunchy-dog-biscuits (or wheatbix) and couldnt scratch my nose with my back paw...

So, wrapping up the story and giving you some morals: When a responsible miracle working dog runs away, don't go following him in a general direction, just wait until the following mornings prayer!

/The End

Evil rates

Hm, haven't written a post for a while.. But that is only because I have no inspiration anymore, there's just tiredness in my tired little Head (that seem to be loosing hair at some rate, not entierly sure what the rate is, but it is a rate at least.. Stupid head, maybe they are connected? This no inspiration, tired head and hair loss? Never thought about this before... Tired = Stupid head = No inspiration = Hair loss.. hmm, the things you can think of when you write blogs...) .. How do you continue a sentence when you have like half a thesis of parenthesis stuff in between?? I don't know, hence I just ignore it, well, I didn't as I wrote about it obviously, but I didn't finish my actual sentence... Oh well, time to move on...

So, moved on to a new and special line, even have a nice and empty, white (in my editing Window, guessing it will be greenish later), line.. Hm, interesting stuff this, white/green special empty lines I must say, ah, hm, you don't think so? Hm, again, I like "Hmm" it's like a good word, that isn't a word, and you can use it for lots of things like, eh, instead of writing "Thinkinn\g for something to say, but probably failing miserably", much shorter to type "Hmm", oh, and the way I used before which is just "Hm" and not Hmm (with 2 m's) meaning something like "Yepp, I got no clue what to say now" Or "O dear me, I'm being rather silly at the moment", maybe it even means different things than that..

Moved on again (another awesome empty line for you!) to a new topic, Running, I'm going to run Bridge to Brisbane on Sunday.. 12km it is, so went practicing on Tuesday, 12km isn't so bad, it's like nothing man! Well, ok, it is 12km which is 12000m or 12 million millimeters which, had I been an ant, would have been my preferred unit of choice (double something rather there... preferred and choice, not good English I have read somewhere)


Moving on again... two lines this time, gotto be time for something special now, maybe 3 empty lines?



No, I should no longer bother your time with you... ? Dumb sentence.. what would your time be without you? I blame my hair-loss-rate for that statement. So, the end this is, the end of my attempt of a blog post, admittedly there have been a while since I last wrote one, and I have become one year older.. (oh, my hair-loss rate have had some time since the last one, no wonder this one suck!)

After the last empty line it is time to say goodbye to you: Goodbye you!

Wroooooom!!!

So, time to update this blog then.... Havent done it in a while, have started a couple of times, but by some reason blogger is not happy with firefox by some reason, or it's just not happy about the combination of firefox, windows vista and me.. Probably more accurate.. somewhat anticombinationalistic me thinks..

Anyways, writing about why I haven't been writing, although excuses sometimes can be good (I have been so tired, so tired... ooooh, the tiredness of work.. ) can often turn into whingeing (no no, I never whinge, just make informative remarks to people that, generally, can't hear me) and as such is ridiculously boring to read!

Did it again.. I seriously need to start having some content to these blogs, especially when they are like months apart... I mean, one should be able to find out some interesting topic to write about in that amount of time (well, smart people can, or at least people that can think about things that may, but mostly not, be interesting for other then themselves) don't you think?

Oh, do you think btw? I guess you do, but I mean really think, like about something? Not brooding, I can brood (or daydream, the swashbuckling duels I have done in my life with a fair lady by me side.. [eh, you don't need to read that, forget I said it.. please?]) and it doesnt require any effort what so ever.. but thinking that is hard! So, when you think, what do you think about? (if you want to say what you daydream and brood about, well, that is fine too) Do you think about how to solve the green house gas emmissions by stealing all the worlds oil and drink it?

Hmm, my mind just stopped working (not that it seems to be working very often, but can't even write about nothing anymore!!) so I'll wrap this post up, althogh I think you should have something to wrap before you can wrap it up.. Weird word that, wrap up, like you have this thing you've been talking about and then you put it on sticky plastic and folds the sticky plastic around it... Does it mean that when you "wrap it up" you take the stuff you have been talking about with you and place it somewhere for the future? Seems kinda useless to me to talk about things if that's what you'll end up doing, I always though that when you talked to people you wanted them to remember what you said... not take it and wrap it up so nobody can touch it (people being ants???).. So, i'll wrap this up though, as it's not talking about anything you have any use of remembering... Feel how the wrap releaves your mind of my rubbish...

So long kalsong! (lame oh, so lame)

Marriages

Hi, oh-gifted-with-above-average-intelligence-blog-reader, how has (or should it perhaps be have? my grammar is as useless as my sawing abillity [dunno if that actually tells you much unless you know how good i'm at sawing {ok, you could extrapolate and say that, as my grammar is crap, my sawing ability would be crap as well, but that would be to turn my supporting statement around on itself, which would make the statement rather useless, unless I wanted to explain to you how useless I am at sawing...} which I doubt that you do] guess there should be something here to justify my use of paranthesies..) your day/week/month/year/life been? I hope it has been splendid and that everything you touch turns to gold (figuratively, we all know I could say that it would be very annoying if everything you touched would turn to gold, but hey, your an OGWAAIBR so you'll know that already, so I won't insult you by saying it (just, not so, briefly mention that I could have, had I held you in such high esteem).

Anyways (one of my favourite words that, together with my current favourite "gosh", although "anyways" have been on that list longer, and will probably outlast "gosh") I guess I should write something that justifies the title I wrote, that is, something about marriages...

Marriage:

hmm, intended to give you Encyclopaedia Britannica's definition of marriage and then talk about all the people I know that currently are going to get married... But no, that is not so fun (and it may be a contientious (?) issue as well, but, there are two types of marriages I will give you the definition for...

Morganatic Marriage:

legally valid marriage between a male member of a sovereign, princely, or noble house and a woman of lesser birth or rank, with the provision that she shall not thereby accede to his rank and that the children of the marriage shall not succeed to their father's hereditary dignities, fiefs, and entailed property.

Must say I kinda like this one, if I ever get married I definitely will make sure my marriage will be a morganatic. I mean, just think of the problems I avoid, there's no way my wife will marry me just to clime up to my lofty social hights, nor will she marry so that her children will later overthrow me and (with her as their "advisor") manage my huge and wealthy fiefdom!

But, if one doesn't much like women and think they are to much effort and they don't last long enough... Well, then a tree marriage may be something to go for:

symbolic marital union of a person with a tree that is said to be infused with supernatural life.

The good thing with a tree marriage, is that it has multiple purpouses.. Not only can you get married to a big green thing that is infused with supernatural life and will carry your legasy for the next couple of hundred years.. No, if you by some reason change your mind and really really want to marry a widow (dunno if you can marry a tree whose former husband died) you can quite happily do so (provided you chop down your tree)

Tree marriage may also be a form of proxy marriage. In one such practice, between a bachelor and a tree, the tree was afterward felled, thereby endowing the man with the widower status required to marry a widow

Pretty good thing hey?

Told you before I wouldn't say anything about people I know getting married as it was boring.. I lied, filthy habit I know, but just cant help it every now and again..

Must mention that my dear friend Nathan "Smelly" Campbell is getting married to his Robyn. And, yours truly have been asked to help groom him on his very special day, yours truly feel quite honored (but is at the same time somewhat worried that he will somehow manage to miss the ocation, as, from experience, that is what he's done with every other wedding he should have attended to the groom in some fashion...) that he's deemed worthy to do such a thing.

That is not all I have to say today, but it is probably all that you can be bothered to read, and all I can put on "paper", no, lied again.. just a thing that popped up in my head, words in relation to intelligence.. Now, some people may think that someone that can use many words would be intelligent, but, this is my thought, wouldnt someone that is pretty intelligent only have to use very few words to say the same thing as a not-so-intelligent person would need heaps of words for?

Until next time!

Footnote:

While searching for some image relating to marriage... apparently there are marriage agencies.. Wonder if they do morganatic marriages? Check out this site if your ready to get married!