Things to do for your wife's birthday when a dozen roses just won't do...

Sure, I made the poster, but it was genuinely his idea to merge his pre-planned DJ show with his wife's birthday party. What you call selfish, he calls showbiz.

In the words of Snoop Dogg "it's going to be off the heezay!" Consider yourselves all invited.

Selecta!

Upon offering to take your friends out to dinner only to breakdown in the middle of the city & then again on the freeway...& once more in Bulleen...

In these situations it is always advisable to follow these few steps:

1. Check your watch, if you are sure that he may be seconds away from falling asleep then call your father and explain your plight always emphasising that it is in nobody's fault and perhaps, only if you are feeling extra daring of course, remind him how grateful you are of the Amiga 500 he bought you on Christmas 1991.

2. Have a hammer on stand by (don't worry we'll come back to this later).

3. While waiting for the cavalry to arrive enjoy a beer or two in the adjacent bar which you have broken down near.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This will render you unable to drive later, so you will need a friend with a full license on stand by, however, this drink is highly recommended after waking your father and forcing him to drive 45minutes into the heart of a city which he cruses on a daily basis. Nevertheless, take your time, enjoy your drink.

4. Be sure to exit the pub only seconds before Pops arrives on the scene. Turn your phone to silent - this is no time to bring up Sparky.

5. After connecting the jumper cables to either car and watching your father exert 51 years of frustration out on your starter motor with the hammer that we prepared earlier, try to not seem too horrified when he starts the car the first time and glances you with a look which says "no matter what you say, I know you've been at a gay club tonight and that's why your car broke down."

6. After you have broken down for the second time, try not to appear too scared when pushing the car through a red light and your father hits the brake to avoid a fatal collision with an oncoming Holden Commodore hell bent on destroying its most bitter rival, remember, Tom grew up on the streets of Salford in the 1960s and he wants that Commodore to stop.

7. Although falling apart from anxiety, try to remember the teachings of the father Buddha that "life is but a dream which we all share as one consciousness" and with that in mind open the closest thing you can find to alcohol, take a xanax and watch as much of Monkey Magic as you can handle before passing out. Once home you can rest assured that everything will be alright in the morning, and if not, your father will probably bury your mechanic in a remote area far away from what a jury could rightly consider your involvement.

Talking blogger’s blot blues…

I know I say this a lot, but you’ll all have to forgive my absence from Blogging - especially you Max, I know how much you depend on my adventures to get you through the working day – I’ve been trying to write, believe me, in all sincerity I have, but of late nothing has been coming out. Oh, there have been adventures; there are always adventures when there’s gin in the cupboard, money to burn and you have a fondness for telling strangers your musings on why the government is holding back a cure for AIDS so they can sell more units of Blossom Season 2 on DVD, but adventuring hasn’t been the problem. Of late I’ve become completely consumed by this:

http://pepperspianoteacher.ytmnd.com/

Brian Peppers stories aside, the hypnotic tones of that talking piano have had me returning to that page multiple times a day, so much so in fact that I haven’t been able to write anything since first being turned onto it. I don’t know whether to cry, be afraid, or laugh, there’s so much going on with that dulcet voice, it’s truly the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard and it’s rendered all my emotional responses null and void. I could have the girl of my dreams, dressed as Princess Leia, pledge her love to me evermore, but if it wasn’t voiced by a magic piano or at least imitated, she’d be better off peddling her translucent affections elsewhere.

...And it turns out that I'm not the only one in my family addicted to this either. While working in Victoria's Most Boring Town 2007 and staying in a ridiculous converted mill for what turned out to be less than two hours of actual work, I received a text message which prompted my Sparky message ring tone (uploaded here for your enjoyment) to blast forth at 128kbs from the phone's modest speaker. Yet before the piano could introduce himself my old dad turned to me in Christmas morning excitement and finished the forthcoming sentence, in perfect monotone character mind you. Turns out the old bean has been a fan from way back, and he himself had once been addicted to the original 45" record. Small world, you spend all your lives living in the same house wondering how to connect to one another and all the while there's an electronic synthesizer waiting to bring you together...suffice to say his ID in my phone has been changed to Old Man Sparky, while unfortunately, mine remains Ungrateful Bloodsucker in his.

Was it the digs or his conflicted feelings
of fatherhood that bemused Tom so?