Platinum J.D.L

Today's blog comes live from my desk at work; with an unnecessarily intense hangover and zero inspiration as to pointless or unintersting topics to make interesting points about. So it got me thinking, maybe it's time to recap. I was just reading a blog where the author had 2010 listed as a "dislike". It seems crazy to me that everybody is experiencing such different lives all at once; where 2010 has been the best year of my life but for a lot of others it has been very sub-par.

As much as I'd like to continue on with an inspirational piece about butterfly effects or how backpackers are riding llama's through Peru while you're riding the stairs to the second floor on a bean bag; it turns out I am very unintersted in other peoples lives. So let us focus on me. Last night was housewarming party for our new three level house at Aurora. It's hard to complain when you live literally three metres from a ski run and chair lift on a mountain you get to snowboard for free, but the stupid neighbours with their stupid kids did (jokes about the stupid part). The start of 2010 had good vibes; not unlike the way you can almost taste bakery food with your nose. You just know it's gonna taste better than it smells.

Now guys, I know my blog's are very mundane and pointless, so it makes it seem like I have nothing better to do or have a lot of anger or frustration built up inside of me; but this couldn't be further from the truth. Truth is, I'm not too sure if it was 2010 that has made 2010 so good. Do you compliment a roast chicken on how it tastes? No. You thank the chef and dig in. The main reason why 2010 has been a platinum year, in a word, me. I don't think I've ever been so content with myself as I have been this year, and I know that 2011 will just continue to be epic because it's not just about what has happened in the year, but moreso about my attitude. My zen-like awesomeness and subsequent narcissism doesn't look to be fading anytime soon for any reason.

The best part about this year is that it has come with all the same ups and downs that every other year has produced. All the classics, girl troubles, financial troubles, unlocking new guitar hero songs, travel, eating biscuits, parties, irrational decisions to get a piercings and such, drinking, work, a rapid decline in personal health and physical fitness, bills, McDonald's, you name it. But I haven't seen any negatives at all; I am quite comfortable just letting shit go. A straight up, stellar year. Also, there were a few ridiculous food metaphors in here. Good times.

I Don't Have An Accent

I figured the last few posts we're getting too emotive and this blog needs a bit more braun. So I present to you...a hate filled rant.

When I was in Huntington Beach, California a month or two back, I was ranting to B-Rod and Dad whilst crossing the zebra stripes and this girl stops super suddenly, right in front of me, turns and says "Sorry, but I just love your accent". I was pleasantly surprised by her frank(stallone)ness and replied with, "Thanks, I like your accent too". She flipped and said (in the traditional contorted American accent) "Uh, thanks but I don't have an accent". With a scowl on her face and a look in her eyes that I haven't seen since the janitor was foiled by Scooby and the gang, she left my life; maybe forever.

The amount of times I have heard this same phrase since I came to North America is getting ridiculous. I want to go on record and say that the only people that actually don't have accents are people that don't speak; ever. Even when you are in a country where everybody sounds the same, it just means that everyone has accents. On another note; accents are cool. I was legitimately upset over the thought that I would end up with a girl that has an Australian accent. I also miss hearing over the radio at work, "Hampus to Handsome Yesse", in the most hilarious Swedish accent imaginable.

Also, French-Canada; you're not France. Just because you speak the language doesn't automatically make you part of the country. I know a little bit of Swedish but I don't go around telling people I'm Australian-Swedish; because that would make me a pretentious douche. Did you know that Quebec actually went through a vote a while back to try and make themselves their own country. What a joke. Side note; French people can't stand French-Canadians. I think this is the main point, doesn't matter if you want to be France because France doesn't want you. You can copy it all you want but you can't be in the club mate. I'm going to take off my hat of diplomacy and throw this out there; I think France should sue Quebec for country copyright.

où le boeuf?

Gobstoppers V. Jawbreakers

The ultimate candy when I was a youngster had nothing to do with taste, but was popular on the basis of longevity. Gobstoppers were fairly priced sweets that outlasted all others ten fold; although their taste was pretty average if you ask me. No, today's ramblings aint about the delicious and long lasting experience of a great product like Wonka's Gobstoppers and no, "Cure My Obscurity" hasn't recently been sponsored by Wonka Candy Inc. (although they make wonderfully fun and delicious lollies). I'm wondering how Willie managed to market the human instict to want to hold onto experience?

I can't actually decide which is better. Jawbreakers are bigger and definately last longer as a singular candy, sometimes for days. Gobstoppers are brief compared to a jawbreaker; but there are many in a packet. Is it better to enjoy short bursts of experience knowing that there are many more to come, or is it enough to let the glory of taste stay over a longer period of time, but as a single experience?

I just think that everyone has this instinct to want to hold onto something good. Working on your gobstoppers while drunk is always a big mistake. You might miss out on a great flavour because of a blindspot in memory. You might swallow it prematurely and choke. You may even not realise that one packet is still going, and open another accidentally (this kind of stopper related fault has never befallen me, but it does happen). I'm working on a jawbreaker at the moment, and it bugs me that at some point it might have to end. The reality is, there is no candy that lasts forever; but if there was I would chuck the dentist on speed dial in two winks of a coal miners eye.

Your jawbreaker will chop and change colour and taste as you keep sucking away; there's a billion different flavours to either enjoy or hate, but that's the most epic part. Is there a metaphor? Read into it whichever way you want; I mean, most of the time, you end up with a sore face, staring at an empty packet.

Alphabet Soup

I wrote a blog a couple of weeks back. I believe it was one of the debut blogs on 'Cure My Obscurity', about circumstantially hot girls at Panorama and a new girl that all the boys were talking about; also about how lame the new girl thing is. Two/Three weeks later, new girl is not new girl anymore. She's an old mate. Also known as my girlfriend. Mmm, God eating my words tastes good, I'll have seconds please. In retrospect it was a rash decision to write a blog about a person I hadn't met yet although I am still very anti-new girl hype. I have continuously, on this blog, stated that I enjoy writing blogs about topics in which I have no knowledge about or interest in gaining further knowledge of, and will not stop here.

I just always seem to eat my own words. When I was in Hollywood I was stopped by an interviewer for the George Lopez Tonight show. They were filming for a sketch called "Your darkest secrets" and asked me to say something for the camera. When they asked me what I did back home, I panicked (don't know why, just wanted to impress the mighty nation of the united states of America) and said Public Relations. Now, I ended up tripping somewhere along the explanation and although they didn't say anything, it was obvious that no, I do not have any practical P.R experience whatsoever. I'm just lucky that George Lopez is only the number three highest paid comedian in U.S.A...a country which I'm assuming, because I've never heard of it before, is very small and insignificant. So I'm not too phased about embarrassing myself in front of the show's probably miniscule audience reach.

The fact of the matter is that we all do it, and we all do it a lot. It's time for people to sit down, tuck in your bib and gobble up that alphabet soup proudly. To be honest, I don't know where this blog is going and it definately doesn't offer any insight to anything important; I've just got a beef with people that try to scapegoat the consequences of their verbal double fault's onto others. It's like when my housemate Joey and Myself ordered a Blacklight online for our "Kings of Neon" party (December 1st, Monument Common Room, 8:30pm), and the e-mail doesn't come through. We rang up the guy and he (very rudely) stated that he had not produced any fault whatsoever and that it was our mistake. I asked him to repeat the e-mail address he sent our confirmation to and he reads back "Triple M...". It's then that I stop him and say, "Nah mate, It's four M's". He snaps back with, "Uh, Yeah! That's what i said; It's definately something wrong by you, I can't help you". Well excuse me, wise ass blacklight.com guy, but I didn't realise that you have no time for the one customer you have...ever. Here I was naively assuming that you wouldn't be offloading UV blacklights too rapidly but apparently the population of witch doctors and stay-at-home ravers in America are sky rocketing at the moment.

I'm getting off topic...thankfully.

By The Power Vested In Facebook, I Now Pronounce You...

I've recently gotten myself into a relationship and the funniest thing was said to me the other day. I'm in the break room, and a work mate of mine asks me, "So it's official?". I'm like, "Yep". He replies, "Yes, but is it facebook official?"


As funny as this sounded to me at the time, I honestly thought to myself, I don't know if it is. Just wondering how something can be official, but not Facebook official. Where facebook is the final frontier concerning relationship confidence, and openess to friends. Many people would say "Well I know I have a girlfriend, I don't know why it's important for all the people on facebook to know". But it's still a tricky subject. When the question comes up (and it will) as to why it's not official on facebook, if you use this answer it just looks like you want to hide her away or am ashamed of her. Whether you are or not, noone will believe you.


It's like you have to go through a second awkward step into defining the relationships. Whether you do or you don't, noone wants to be the first person to admit that yeah I want you to be my girlfriend/boyfriend. Even after you've made it official in this way, you have to go through the exact same embarrasing process of being the first person to request it on facebook. According to facebook I don't have a girlfriend, but according to my parents I also don't. So knowing this, maybe facebook is that brave talk you have to have with the people that already make up your life, concerning the person that will from now on be as big, if not bigger part of it.


My parents are married. But Dad doesn't have facebook. I'm worried that this makes them unofficial and coincidentally makes me a bastard child. As facebook grows not only in popularity, but also climbs up the heirarchy of importance in everyones lives, we could be seeing the disintegration of religious procedures within marriage. A world where you can tie the knot at the click of a button and it would not just be official, but "Facebook official", a term seemingly held in higher esteem within pop culture.


Fuck, No.

Unofficial Invites

So the winter season begins again (kind of) and trips are being organised. We've got a big crew of people heading out for some good times in the snow this weekend. Some cordially invited, some not so much. But for the sake of good times you don't really want to outcast people, right? Most of the time you don't intend to not invite someone, you might just forget.

I recieved a text message the other night from a guy that basically said, "Mate, heard you're going snowboarding on the weekend. I'm in". Not that I didn't want this guy to come, but it came to me as a bit of a semi-amusing shock. The worst thing is, that guy always ends up outcasting himself through the unofficial invite anyway. It's the guy that tries to join in on all the "in" jokes and just ends up sounding or looking way too keen.

Back in high school me and a bunch of friends invited a stupid (appealing to dudes only) game called 'Rape'. Sounds terrible, I know. The game was basically, in a public place, one participant would yell 'Rape' and attempt to wrestle the other guy into a provacative position. The other person, when provoked, wrestles back until one person is declared the victor at 'rape'. We played this a bunch of times in shopping centres, movie theatres and even in the middle of saturday football games. Two of my friends in particular, played this game in the middle of class at college a few times, much to the amusement of the other classmates. Outside of class, there was one guy who tried to fit in with this game and continuously came up to my friends yelling 'rape' loudly in the hallways and then mildly attacking them with moves like poking, noggieing, or a dece' chinese burn. This kid was lame, and solidified this status through self-appointed inclusion into such 'in' games; or unofficial invites.

Everyone would like to be included and everyone wants to be popular whether they admitt it or not. We've all had a new boyfriend or girlfriend before, and we know how annoying it is to stand there when you first meet their friends and have no input into all the 'in' talk and gossip that goes on. Word of advice guys; don't assume automatically that you are welcome to join in on things just because people may have talked about it out loud around you. It would probably be less lame to just create your own day out at the same location, invite like one or two people, and then just "happen" to meet the other group out there and say it would convenient to hang out.

Actually, scratch that. That's probably worse...

Manpower Gone Wrong: Who Called Shirts Off?

What is this trend amongst guys to hang out in public as a group with shirts off? It began at festivals I think, and fair enough, it's a little bit hot out there and the girls are doing it too so shirts off sort of qualifies as a correct call. But I was at a house party (an 18th, mind) a short while before I came to Canada a year ago and was witness to about four older guys at the party undressing their top half and getting onto the D-Floor. Funnily enough, not only did the fully clothed section of men disperese from the floor, but so did all the girls. It ended up just being four guys with no shirts dancing in close proximity to each other, swinging their shirts around. It's like they expect us to be surprised or pleased and react with something along the lines of "Mate, you need to see a vet...cause those pythons are SICK!".

Nope; just general embarrasment is felt for them blended in with a smidgen of disgust. I mean, I'm used to seeing it around sometimes, and this general incidence wasn't the big eye opener to the trend of homo-eroticism that is going mainstream among what most bloody blokes believe to be "real men". I'm on Facebook earlier and a few profile pics pop up in the news feed sporting some old mates from school; shirts off in the pic. Now that's just wierd. The party was one thing, and I can understand; you're a little bit drunk, you don't actually intend to be around other guys, maybe you were under the impression that the chicks would love it. But these dudes actually called shirts off in the privacy of their own home and took what can only be described as 'greek adonis' style pics together and then uploaded them onto facebook.

The feel of someone elses skin against yours is a pretty intimate thing to experience. I don't care how buff you are. Either join the WWE where that kind of thing is standard (and hell, you get the delightful experience of oiling yourself up in public too), or keep it to yourself.

It's just wierd, and as the last blog has shown; you're on your way to table nine.

The Mutants at Table Nine

You know in teen movies, there's always a scene where they introduce the new kid to basically the whole school at once? It's usually in a cafeteria setting whereas the kid who is relatively neutral, both in appearance and assumed popularity, ventures from table to table pointing out a different genre of teen in each sitting. Most commonly there is your jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, skateboarders, goths or punks, the religious group and maybe some sort of wannabe stereotype group. But regardless of what other sub-cieties are present in the cafeteria at the time of introduction, there's always that ninth table. Table nine is the last and final table, the "do not engage", group, consisting mostly of mutants and just straight up unfortunate people.

My friend Wayde introduced me to this expression and it has reared it's ambiguously offensive head frequently within my vocabulary ever since. In normal life, the term is basically used to describe a bunch of straight-up wierdos. The mutants at table nine. Example: This group is doing something in your proximity that they think is hilarious but is just lame and annoys the fuck out of you. You exhude out loud, "Fuckin Table Nine".

Let's be honest. It does sound a bit harsh. But I wanted to bring this expression out into the public eye because I believe that it is a happy medium. Unless you are the ONE follower of this blog than you most problably don't know what table nine is and therefore will not be offended if someone came up to you and said "Hey T9, What's up?". The mutants at table nine, yeah they are annoying as fuck, but they have feelings too; and they're the type of people who don't really mean to be lame, so you end up feeling terrible for telling them off. So be happy that we are from now on calling you "Table Nine"...

...cause we could just call you wierdo's.

Every Road

Everyone seems to think the term 'Yuppie' died out in the eighties along with the whole wall street thing. I'd like to go on record and say that I believe there is a new type of yuppie out there in the naughties. I'm talking your Apple Mac sporting, I-Phone touch having, H & M/Country Road wearing yuppies. It seems to me that video production, journalism and anything media, music or fashion based is the new 'mergers & acquisitions'. Loosely related to the 'Metro-sexual' trend popularised by those delightful queer-eye blokes. They wear cardigans in the middle of summer and own ray-ban wayfarer framed regular glasses even though they have no eye problems whatsoever. Not that there's anything wrong with that, believe me; I'm quite the fan. Although I don't own anything made by 'Apple', the yuppie lifestyle does cause some disturbances in freestyle jesse's thought path.


So sorry to put my 'followers' (and I say that loosely) into some serious mood lighting but I'm finding it hard to blog about topics that don't effectively squeeze out the leftover juice from my mind grapes. Usually 'Cure My Obscurity' is the place to find blogs on all things un-blog-worthy, yet today there is way too much going on to stick to my standard template.


It's your classic case of life problems as a whole. I wouldn't use 'problem' to the strictest sense of the word though because actually there is no problem, just lots of confusion. I just got to thinking about paths and futures. It is the third time in one year that my working holiday in Canada is 'coming to an end' in a few months and already I'm trying to find ways to avoid this abrupt conclusion. So many things that can hinder future Jesse's functionality in the modern day yuppie society. I don't know what it is but I feel much more comfortable having $30 in my account and having no food in the fridge after a day of free snowboarding than having $10,000, sitting at home all day blogging (no offense).


University, jobs, girls, money and last but certainly not least, popularity. I mean, I'm going to have to go home eventually, and I'm wondering how many friendships I may have squandered by being over here and not keeping sufficiently in touch with people. Money isn't an issue because I love being poor and am thinking of using this lack of funds as the basis of my 'decision' to stay (not affording a ticket home). University is the biggest one. I don't know if I can start again, I'm not getting old, but getting older. Public Relations is a young persons game, all sorts of new 18 year old girls scabbing up jobs in the industry at the bat of an eyelid. Girls; maybe. You can't really maintain relationships over here and going home to meet someone definately should be an issue. But it's one I am not too concerned with. Plus, I'm starting to hate the idea of dating a girl that has an Australian accent. But as hard as it is to maintain a relationship here, I've never been one to give up without trying; nothing specific, just if the chance were to arise it would be another good excuse to fuck up real life.


Although these issues seem pretty personal or whatever, it is something that many travellers (and some non-travellers) ask themselves. When (if ever) is it alright to fuck up your future? Most the people I know that have stayed overseas after a years leave of absence find themselves in the same pickle. It's where a working holiday becomes a real life. Yeah, I work at a ski resort in Canada; but I've been here a year now. I have a real house, a real car, real friends which I regard as close as family, a solid job, hobbies and an intensely fun lifestyle (snowboarding by day, maggot by night). I don't own an I-Phone or an Apple Mac, but I treasure the idea that I have no use for them.

Could this be a real life?

Eureka!

Finally something of interest. Seriously you guys. I have been away on a very long hiatus from Australia and have recently been surprised by the news that good friends of mine, whom I toured with a few times, have formed a new band that are really quite excellent. "Gold Fields" is the name and hot damn they are good.

I was on facebook chat to the guitarist last night catching up, thinking 'oh yeah band sounds good, give it a year and they'll be going well'. Wrong. Don't even wait a year, these guys are sky rocketing up the standards not only in musical awesomeness but also fandom at the fastest rate imaginable. I couldn't have wished it to happen to better dudes. In just under a year these guys have produced a very high quality demo with some amazing tracks as well as their first single "Treehouse" which has been played on Triple J due to popular request. But aside from this, their first tour just happens to be in the UK. Epic stuff boys and can't wait to somehow grab the tracks of itunes as soon as possible. I feel about this band the same way Tokyo feels about Dance, Dance Revolution.

I highly recommend everyone goes out and listens and or downloads/votes the single "Treehouse" off Triple J, Unearthed. (http://www.triplejunearthed.com/artists/view.aspx?artistid=40494)

Listen http://goldfields.bandcamp.com/

A Nightmare on Flavour Street

I had a nightmare last night.

I forgot to add my flavour satchel to a packet of two minute noodles. It was basically a bowl of noodles in lukewarm water that left a very unsavoury taste in my dream-tastebuds. Just thought you should know.

Dreams are wierd. Apparently they all have meaning, but if that is what is going through my mind while I'm asleep then the message is; get a life. A long time ago I had a dream where I was a knight on a horse. The draw bridge opens and my mighty steed stomps the ground as it proceeds across the bridge with me on top; a man on a mission. Then my "mighty steed" stumbles and falls off and into the water below, where I wake up. It was the shortest nightmare I ever had. Didn't even make it over the bridge and it basically had zero point...

..not unlike this blog.

Taste the Rainbow

I've never cared too much for the taste of a bunch of different coloured skittles being eaten at once. I really think that's where M & M's have it over them in the confectionary market. See, M & M's have the bonus of being visually appealing in the same way as skittles, except all the different colours have the exact same taste. Basically allowing the user to cannonball them in, large quantities at a time.

Skittles are great. But only on their own accord, once you start mixing it all goes a little bit wrong. Everyone has their own favourite colour or flavour right. But they're all sitting in your hand, melting and getting all sticky and that's not good for anybody. So you're only option is to close your eyes and just stick them all in at once. The ad campaign tells you to taste the rainbow. Well let me tell you something "Skittles Co.". The rainbow tastes like dirty linen.

Haduken!

I've recently read a blog that loosely pits two genre combatants against each other and thought it was great. As a result, catering to my own personal amusement, I present to you a few reasons why Mortal Kombat, on paper, is a better video game than Street Fighter.

1. The main character in Street Fighter is a red belt karate specialist. First of all, red isn't the highest belt. So you're telling me the central hero in the story is an amateur karate student, possibly even just an enthusiast. The fact that he can throw blue balls of force from his arm's doesn't make a difference. Put a circle of "force" up against a bloody spear and you end up with one masked guy that has to step back a few, against a dead karate participant.

2. Mortal Kombat is well good. It has blood and shit involved. So much to the point where I had a note from Santa warning me about the dangers of violence in video games alongside my copy of Mortal Kombat 2 for christmas 1995. Santa does not, in fact, have time to write violence warning notes for Street Fighter cause the level of bloodshed is up there with the opening scene from Bambi.

3. New version of Mortal Kombat have chess. It's a gentleman's game.

4. Mortal Kombat's movie was way more budget than Street Fighters movie. Everyone knows that with fighting games made into movies, the more budget the better. Mortal Kombat's characters had rubber suits and shit.

Mortal Kombat, FINISH HIM!