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FACE!

2 pieces of solid potensch, and 1 that's balls

Posted on 11.03.2011 at 13:23
Where am I?: Windsor, Melbourne
How am I feelin'?: contemplativecontemplative
What am I listenin' to?: New Millenium Cyanide Christ - Meshuggah
Tags: , , , , ,
Option A] Work in some testicular retail job until my visa runs out, then fuck off to wherever

Option B] Leave Melbourne behind for Brisbane, where a potential games position lies. Not any position though, but one that will last me the rest of my time in Australia, and be a further feather in my THQ cap. Definitely appealing were it not for Brisbane being hot as lava dicks, and purportedly more expensive.

Option C] Throw caution so far into the wind, that it will more than likely whip back in my face, and fuck off to Montreal. True, this was sort of my long term plan anyway, but there are a few things making it more feasible, and one or two that stand in the way. Feasibility comes in the form of the company I worked for (again, THQ) having a full time + benefits QA position available, and friends in the right echelons to potentially get me that job. Infeasibility skulks in the shape of the visa needing to get applied/paid for, I'd need a whole fuckpack of cash to pay for the flights, accommodation, security deposit on later obtained flat, and any other trimmings I'd need. So it's most certainly the farthest of fetches, but a damn tempting one.

Simply put, the last thing I want is to be relegated to option A. I've 'followed my dream', or as close as one so emotionless can truly do, and it is firmly pointing me in the direction of games work. I just need to find something that will last, and that really is difficult to do. And it was simple blind optimism that lead me to Australia, because the games industry is rather small. Truth be told though, it's paid off, as this is the first time I've been unemployed with no obvious prospects so far, and both other positions were in 'the biz'. Needless to say I'll be keeping my ear to the ground for hints as to which option is most relevant. I just hope when next my ear hits the deck, I hear a voice sharply pronounce the city 'MONTREAL' in a manner that almost rhymes with "Well, DUH!".

Blank-me

Alright, fuck it, let's do this

Posted on 20.02.2011 at 12:11
Where am I?: Melbourne, Australia
How am I feelin'?: discontentDiscontent
What am I listenin' to?: Cliff Wagner & The Old #7 - Castleneck
Tags: , ,
So, what's changed?

1] I'm now living in Melbourne, Australia
2] My latest 3 occupations have been in the tech industry, namely QA testing. That is to say, suck my dick, I play games for a living, bitches
3] In my first QA job, I had to travel 2 hours to get to work by train (that's awaking at 4.30am to you and me, kids) and the same amount of travel back, for probably about 10 months or so. I don't even want to imagine what I spent on train fares, being roughly ₤370 a pop. But the point I'm going to raise here is, as a result of all this inactivity, and not being able to do anything with my spare time, I totally put on weight. Sure, I'm only about 13 stone, but I want to shift this gut ASAP
4] I'm about to do a stand up show (when I organise it) as it's one of those things I always intended to do. Should be fun!
5] Currently working in a web testing position (testing websites is not as fun as testing games, I promise you) and frankly it's starting to piss me the fuck off. Woman just above me has literally no clue what the fuck she's doing, and is hampering my ability to work as a result. Guess what, if a link says "This link goes to X" and it in fact leads to Y? That's a problem. Get a fucking grip, do your job, lose the attitude. Also, get pretty, you shamefully unattractive whore.
6] If I leave this job, my only other options are going to be shit like bar work, but frankly after so long, I may welcome the change of pace
7] And so to my final point, I don't think I'm going to stay here. As much as I enjoy Melbourne and it's many wares, the games industry over here is small and getting smaller. It needs a boot up the arse economically, and for the Aussie government to develop a modicum of intelligence, and see the money they are throwing away by not supporting it. Games make up I believe as high as 50% of media sales in the UK, a HUGE earner. Australia is too busy trying to kowtow to the politically correct brigade, and overly censoring the titles to make development, and even release, barely feasible. It's a shocking state of affairs, all entirely unjustified by this solitary, simple point. Games have age ratings. It is illegal to sell against these ratings. If children are able to get these games, the fault lies with how these age ratings are enforced, and how the parents are treating the age ratings themselves. More kids are playing age-inappropriate titles due to their parents buying them it than any other method. Make that the standing point, rather than fallaciously accusing games of making children violent, you twats.

/rant

Blank-me

Still here

Posted on 28.12.2010 at 15:39
Where am I?: Melbourne
How am I feelin'?: worriedWaitful
What am I listenin' to?: Alien ant farm - Forgive and forget
...kinda...

Blank-me

Two in a row? Someone pinch you, it's your lucky day!

Posted on 02.12.2009 at 20:37
Where am I?: Edinburgh/Dundee
How am I feelin'?: blankBit 'o' this, bit 'o' that
What am I listenin' to?: Mr.Bungle - Retrovertigo
Tags: , , , ,
Okay, now for more of an "up-to-date" style affair encompassing what could possibly be considered some of the most important life-happenings of all time. Where to begin... let's take it from that bit there *points*

To begin with, hello! Yes, t'has been many a winter since the nimble, and yet strong fingers of my hand have graced the keyboard directed at this site. Why? Meh, priorities really. Since long ago I have taken to a new position in the fancy shmancy (it's a word, fuck you) world of games development, namely, PLAYING FOR MONEY. I don't know why, but to me that instantly brings up images of someone pole dancing with a Nintendo DS in their hands, but I digress.

Yes, Realtime worlds have been mad (and wise) enough to throw me into their employ as a QA publishing team member. I play the game, I note down the bugs, I sometimes even suggest new gameplay elements (a few of mine have been selected too might I add). All in all, the dream literally has come true, and I can categorically say this IS the industry I wish to find myself in for the forseeable future. But of course, nothing amazingcredible comes free, and the following is my payment...

It's in DUNDEE!! Oh the fucking huge-manatee! And moreover it starts at 7am every day, meaning I awake at 4.30am, somehow drag myself to Waverley train station whereupon a 5.30am train trundles my sleepy ass to the relative comfort of the RTW building. Now, frankly, this in itself is bad enough, but a more worrying problem has developed as a direct result of this. I get ill. A LOT. I mean full on, more-than-I've-ever-been-ill-beforeitude. I can directly attribute this to the following. At 4.30am, in Scotland, during winter, it is FUC-OLD (I abbreviated fucking cold, big whoop, wanna fight about it?) and yet my flat is so very warm. Thus my body goes from the relative comfort of my bed, to the harsh realities of outside, only to be sat on a train which varies in between the two temperatures depending upon where in the journey it is. Needless to say, such harsh alternating temperatures do a number on your body. And not the magic number. No, the fucking horrible, "ill all the time" number. So... 7 or something, I don't know.

BUT to be fair I am dealing with it. As hard as it is, the job is seriously too good to be true. It not only allows me to exercise a great degree of creativity, but I am around like minded people. Long gone are the days of serving people I'd sooner piss on than sell to. No more must I lower myself to partake in discussions with people whose intellect rivals amoebic dysentery. I get to sit and write, judge the developers grammar and spelling, play a game, talk utter nonsense and most importantly, there's a BISCUIT TIN. Okay so realistically that's lowest on the pro list, however there are occasionally party rings in there. I like party rings.

But of course all of these things come together to worry me so. Is my constant illness going to negatively affect my chances of continuing on in this buisness? (that is the best way to say business btw). Will I find myself stuffed in this horrendous catch-22? The fact is, should my contract get renewed, I probably would try to find a flat in Dundee. Last time I tried that however, I was infuriated beyond all possible measurement by lying, cheating scoundrels, and the men in suits trying to make me sign contracts. The kind of contracts that legally bind me to my flatmates, forcing me to pay up should they be troublesome, untrustworthy wanksocks. And you know me people, I'd sooner do the jail time for murdering them than suffer them!

Gah, I'll move on. Beyond that, I ain't got any TIME anymore! I only wish I had the kind of freedom I used to have back in the day. Freedom to go out on a weeknight, stay up past 9pm. But no, dedication to the dream has forced me onto a relatively straight road. Still, to be quite honest I rarely went out then, so rarely going out now doesn't do me too much of a stress. It just means when I do go out, I have to make it count (can you say small tube of lubricant and lowered standards everyone?). And so, I am thereby, and forthwith, vis-à-vis etc anon.

Can you tell I've lost track and just want to hurry up and press the post button? I think you just did. CIAO BITCHES!

Gun-haver

An entry I started writing about a year ago, and decided to just hurry up and finish now...

Posted on 02.12.2009 at 19:50
Where am I?: Edinburgh
How am I feelin'?: artisticPen-in-eyelarious
What am I listenin' to?: Mr.Bungle - Squeeze me macaroni
Tags: , , ,
Now, allow me to initiate an instant shock. I'm writing a journal entry, after roughly half a year from my last. Now two things can be surmised from this absence. The first, is that I've kinda given up on the classic "blogging" of which I grew so fond. The second, is that in order for me to break this silence, shit must've got wild. And let me tell you, friends. It fucking did.

Having just returned from a five day trip to Montreal (considering I didn't blog about that, clearly this story is about to get good!) the one biggest moment of that trip was that I purposefully destroyed my alcohol abstinence, because a quick sojourn to Canada for five days was such a big deal, I wanted to mark it as memorable. I only had a few vodka cokes, but all the same, the principle is that I drank properly after a three year truancy from alcoholism. This, my friends, is the prologue to this tale.

Last night/this morning (24th/25th of October) I went out, for the first time properly in roughly half a year. I arrive into town, and Matt comes out of the odd little bar he was chilling at, in order to walk to the cash machine. I tag along, we do the typical catch up bitchfest we always hold in the semi daily "Matt and Dave banterfest", and on our return leg, we saunter straight into Opium. As we enter, no one is kicking about, but the decision is immediately made. I'm drinking tonight. Matt purchases a vodka coke, and I throw it back like it's a cheeky midget. Frew, Graham, Ed and Anna all arrive in good time, and we begin our banterful night!

First things first, almost immediately my shirt gets some attention. Only, rather than the classic "yer shirt's nice!" jazz, I get the "I'm going to tie your shirt at the front, displaying your goods like an extra from Brokeback mountain, referred to in the credits as "Stripey shirt ass fondler". Pictures are taken, and generally, mirth had, but as everyone is quick to notice, I am in no way phased. If I get a gay shirt tie up routine unleashed on my skull, you know what I do? I fucking roll with it. So literally from that moment till 3am, I was standing around with my nips to the wind. Felt refreshing as hell I'll have you know! But then the "drawback" to this little trick becomes evident. Apparently, when you stand around almost topless, it gives everyone full rights to give you wedgies, pour drink down your arse, and most importantly, use you as a Welsh scratching board! I literally spent the night getting torn to shreds!

One of the culprits, was a blonde girl I met as I wandered around, nips to the breeze. I noticed her, barging to the front of the bar using all of her "wiles" to get there. I immediately leant over, and stated categorically, "I'm WAY more topless than you are". She agreed almost instantly, but it didn't stop us having a full on, hardcore chin wag. Covering most topics, I spend the time referring to her ridiculous cleavage. It was like two cancer patients trying to merge heads! And it gets better, after random bantering for about a minute, I discover the most genius part of it. HER NAME WAS MADELEINE!!! AHAAHAHAHAH!!! Immediately shot up in my estimation ten-fold. And it was then, that the sheer man-aura of my nakedness got the better of her, and scratch, bite and kiss away the night she did. It was bloody carnal, and mixed with an equal sharing of hilarious. I honestly wasn't even into the idea, but fuck it if I wasn't going to just roll with it (the theme of the night so far it seemed).

Following this it seemed more amusing to just do a dash on the chick, and it actually was. Both me and Matt, knowing how drunk she was, did one of those "Look over there" kinda deals, and made a run for the door. We looked back in time to catch her looking around dizzily, half depending on the bar to stabalize her. Needless to say, being a cunt is trés amusant.

The rest of the night was spent throwing banter at randoms. Met a shit ton of Irish girls, and I decided to try out my accenty skill, and legitimately convinced them I too was Irish. I impressed myself, as my Irish accent is the least convincing of my entire repertoire. Shortly thereafter, I decided to call it a night. And of course, in typical awesome-sauce fashion as I return home it starts pissing it down. It did have it's upside however, as a large poster box had become unstuck, and I helped myself to a man size Fallout 3 poster too. It now sits proudly on my wall, it's missing corner doing nothing but authenticate this post-nuclear adventure advertisement. Sweet, sweet times.


Blank-me

A tale of zombies, and bombs

Posted on 10.05.2008 at 12:32
How am I feelin'?: chipperAwesome
What am I listenin' to?: Millencolin - Saved by hell
Tags: , , ,
I just had a fucking supawesome dream, allow me to set the scene...

There was a zombie outbreak in a small urban city of no real resemblance to anywhere I've been. I was stationed in a small flat, third floor, with a small collection of survivors. Some were friends, others randoms, and each were dotted around this flat which consisted of a main room with couches and stuff, one of those long shower rooms with open cubicles that cut off around chest height, and a blocked up door which leads to a stairwell going up, and a passageway. So we're in this room, and for SOME reason, I have a SPARTAN LASER. Now for those not familiar with Halo 3, click on the words spartan laser for a video of it in action.

So I'm busy blowing the heads off countless zombies outside, just for the fun of it. I'm generally walking around casual as you like exploding heads, and from the shower room, I hear some zombie-esque moans. So I immediately run over only to find six dudes in there, mimicking zombie noises. For some reason I go ape shit in TEXAN. I'm shouting "What in god damn hell are you guys thinking? I oughta blow yer fuckin' heeead off! You fuckin' imbeciles!!" when, from the main room comes a crashing noise. I run through to find the blocked up door knocked through, and some zombies trying to get in. Everyone's screaming, but I'm dispensing the headsplosions like it's no one's buisness (that's right, buisness). And eventually, the zombinvasion ceases, and we rebarricaded the door.

However, with all the craziness, everyone was shit scared and no longer wanted to stay in the location. So we open the barricade and start running. However, the passageway we're running through is lined with windows, and there are zombies EVERYWHERE. As we tear through, people are getting taken out left and right, and by the time I'm outside, I'm the only fucker left! I'm bolting through the crowd of flesh eating mongtards when from out of nowhere, a honda civic drives up, the door swings open to reveal Matt! He shouts "Get in!" which I dually oblige.

I get in, put my spartan down and immediately notice Matt has some dressings on his right leg. I immediately impart the classic line "Oh shit, you've been bitten!" to which he replies without any real certainty that he doesn't think he has. I'm not put at ease, but fuck it, he's driving the car, I'm just going to ride with it. We drive out of the zombie hoard and park up in an odd little plateau. Basically there are skyscrapers all around, but we on an odd kind of hill. I'll try my best to recreate it in photoshop, the pictures are at the end.

But anyway, so, one would think we were kosher now right? WRAAANG!! From the skies, two large metal canisters drop. "BOMB!" shouts Matt, and we both hit the deck. They both land, but no explosion! From the canisters however, three more canisters fire upwards, and then begin to descend slowly on parachutes. "Shit! CLUSTER BOMBS!" I cry, as we again hit the deck. But the three parachute canisters then open themselves and hundreds of tennis ball sized yellow plastic balls come raining from the sky, all bouncy as a new born, dropped from hip height. We both get up, and begin to pick up the balls that have pooled at the wall next to us, and THROW the fuckers like our lives depended on it (which in this dream, it really did). By the end, a spare few bounced at us, and we were literally catching them mid air, and throwing the bastards. And then... I awoke.

I know, shitty, non-explosive ending but still, that's what happened. I think you will all agree, t'was an awesome dream.

Shoddy photoshopped intrepretations ahoy!Collapse )

Gun-haver

Smothered in AGE

Posted on 06.05.2008 at 11:52
How am I feelin'?: chipperCalm
What am I listenin' to?: Flower - Eels
Tags: , , ,
Well, here we are. Another day, another year gone by. Twenty four eh? Bleh. As I'm sure I have analogised prior, this age is like the middle afro. You get the small afro, neat and awesome, then you get the HUGE afro, large and awesome. I am that middle ground which is shit. In other words, I'm no longer this spring chicken, nor am I quite the domineering, mature gentleman. Twenty four truly is the crap middle stage.

But getting there has been a laugh. The family meal on Saturday was awesome. Superb food, and some awesome banter as per usual. A particular favourite being my Dad describing Ted Bundy as a guy who "sold shoes", pfwahaha! That game is always made of win. And of course, my birthday party on Sunday was absolutely unhinged. If you weren't aware, I had set up my party with a gay theme. And by golly did people pull out the gay sauce. There was more fake tan in my flat than you could find in the whole of Los Angeles. If one were to measure gayness via miles per hour, my party could cover ground faster than a gallardo. It sped through the night like a gay train to gaysville, with a stop off at homo island. Truly, it was great craic. The pictures are fucking obscene, but hilarious. And not to put too fine a line on it, but when five police officers arrive at your flat, you know you did something right!

So, needless to say fun was had and memories shared. I'm pretty sure a few STD's were passed around like party favours, and I am now walking funny. Job-fucking-done.

Blank-me

Alabastard

Posted on 27.04.2008 at 17:19
How am I feelin'?: awakeawake
What am I listenin' to?: Audioslave - Wide awake
Tags: , , , , ,
BIDOOF!! Like an unknown pokemon, I stride back into the plains of LJ from the long grass of absence. Oh yeah baby, it's time to get analogical. T'has been a while my friends. Too long some might say, but... fuck those pricks. And in this expanse, what has been happening? A great, bubbling shit pit of fuck all and nothing. Well, that's being a bit harsh to it, but true nontheless. I've been slave labouring it for the past 4 months since posting last, and to be honest I haven't hated it all that much. I've been steadily saving money (with the exception of the 32 inch Sony Bravia-splurge) and am roughly a quarter of the way to my goal. Work has been typical, new stock, new workmates, new problems and new banter. I've also been planning and scheming my way to birthdaysville. To be honest I've been so preoccupied setting the damn thing up I've not really given the actual ageing process much thought.

So, let's get more esoteric with this birthday lark. What have I achieved in this, my twenty fourth year on the ol' terra firma? Well, I've become adept at the things I wish to become adept at. I've found good friends and a steady life. I've earned enough money to travel all the way around the globe once, and did it with great aplomb. But what now? As per usual I find myself back to that square some refer to as "uno". I'm back saving cash to go travelling again, which is good. I'm also secure enough in my current job that I feel promotion may well be on the cards... if I want to take it. But at the same time, the problem is that I genuinely feel wasted in the position. Not like "Whoa man, that tree is judging me" kinda wasted, more the "Pfft, all that for THIS?" kinda wasted. I am, as we speak, the only person who knows the delivery/transfer process 100%. I'm also one of the few to actually know the computer systems. And due to this, I am relied upon more often than anyone else, even by our newly appointed supervisor! So question, why the fuck am I getting a lower wage than them?

In short, it's the typical story of Dave, the pessimistic bastard. Have I done more work than most people combined with most people? Yes. Have I learned everything solidly and confidently shown an aptitude with the aforementioned? Assuredly. But have I been a shiny, happy person who smiles like a rapist in a creche? No. No, once again the curse of not being a shiny, happy person strikes again. And the worst part is, I will never bring myself to fake happiness! What use is it? It's like the old management advice of "Smile when your on the phone as you will SOUND happier". Oh great, so lets just lie to everyone in an ever more subtle manner than before. Well let me tell you folks, if you ever smile when you're not happy, I think you're probably killing yourself on the inside. Life has to have two sides, and if you don't embrace the negativity, you're destined for a collapse. Be it mental, physical or metaphysical, you're tied to the train track of brain rapery, and the 9 o'clock is running right on time.

But on the bright side, hi-def telly's are AWESOME!!

Ciao fuckers

Blank-me

New year, sans happy

Posted on 01.01.2008 at 01:35
How am I feelin'?: exanimateexanimate
What am I listenin' to?: American head charge - Downstream
Tags: , ,
What can I say other than 2008 could not have started off any worse. I mean literally, on the very second of it's passing, the fucking second was as bad as it could have gotten. I am both sick to my stomach, and fucking angry. Not a single fucking thing can I think of to make this pass. And so I ask you this. Why do I set myself up for this shit? Every fucking time.

Gun-haver

This one's comin' alive little momma...

Posted on 16.12.2007 at 12:06
How am I feelin'?: calmAverage
What am I listenin' to?: 3 minute warning - TV is on
Tags: , , , ,
Hokay, so here's RooCH (chillin'). That is a sweet RooCH you might sayWRANG! Anywhey, I'm currently sat in my room, the makings of a sore throat and the anticipation of a soon-to-be amputee. What am I anticipating? Well, a good fucking night to be quite honest!

I've basically been working so fucking hard, and dedicating myself to it, that my social life hasn't so much died, as it has gotten aids and is sitting in a hospital bed awaiting the inevitable decline. Don't get me wrong, work has been going as I would have wished. Despite not having been trained in the basics at all, I am now already trained in several areas which are far past it. I am now in charge of all deliveries and transfers, I basically own the stockrooms, and pretty much have my own little authoritah to play around with. Pretty sweet considering I've been there just over a month. I even got to take training one week, which led to the amazingness of throwing a pile of clothes I got people to fold for me. Evil power trips, mwAHHAHhahaaaaah!

What else though? Not much. I've been out a few times, mainly work nights out or Hive. The work nights out were disasters. One was the Ted Baker night out, the other a Jenners night out. Collectively (including the costume for the former) they cost me close to £80, yet neither felt worthy of the expense. It was just a room full of relative strangers being drunken wanks for the Ted Baker night, and a banterful 3 hours for the Jenners one. Needless to say I feel like I've been slightly Gypped. Like I bought a three wheeled car only to discover it's a four wheeled car with one removed. I got what I paid for, but it barely worked.

What about the foocha though? What is in store? Well, a few things. Firstly the new manager of Ted Baker seems to like me. I've been doing what she asks and generally busting my lung, including staying behind two extra hours (totalling an 11 hour day) just to finish some shit off. This impressed her muchly. I've also met someone, who, as per usual I'm into but I'm not certain if it's reciprocal. And also as per usual, I'm taking it slow. So if all goes well, I fly up the Ted Baker ranks, get closer to this girl, and have a good night at some damn point. If not, I'mma gay someone in the face I shit you not.

So in the mean time, here's a list of the greatest banter I've heard over the past few.
"Digestivum"
"Her name is Rio and she's... gotta big boat"
"Fancy, quality, fudge-ripple, chicken dickables"
"Hi, my name is Paul and I've got a massive head!"
"I'M LEGAL!!"
"I am dressed as a homosexual...with a boat"
"and I JUST KEEP HITTING LITTLE BOYS!"
"I think he started this yesterday"
"shag walking"
"I like my ladies covered in mint"
"I want a t shirt with the words perv in really small writing so guys will be squinting at my boobs"

Yeah, that's about it. Needless to say I've had more random chat in the last month than ever. Hopefully this will be maintained. But before I sign off...
Niki, Zooey Deschanel looks like Reese Witherspong. Just so you know.


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