Man oh man. You’re not reading a story of triumph and this is not a victory lap. I am not 50% more awesome than I was five years ago. I am 18.7% more awesome. [Full stats here] Despite touring the country dressed as a homoerotic sailor/astronaut for much of the last few years, my two least improved categories are Rock & Roll and Being Dangerous.
Out of the 33 rock and roll categories, only nine of them actually relate to being in a band. The rest are about hanging out at bars, getting shitfaced and smoking cigarettes, stuff that’s counter-producive to being in a functional band.
Was it too ambitious? Are the targets realistic? Should my definition of awesome have matured in five years? No, no and no.
In lieu of quitting my job and joining Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ll need to spend this year chasing some easy wins. Below is the low hanging fruit that I could improve on.
The best thing I can do is take up chain smoking and be someone’s best man.
- Blowing smoke rings (20%)
- Rolling a cigarette (30%)
- Playing pool (30%)
- Stuff signed by famous people (30%)
- Shooting hoops (30%)
- Polished shoes (40%)
- Whistling with my pinky (0%)
- Becoming intimate with Daniel Johnston and Brian Jonestown Massacre (40%)
- Being best man/ring bearer/speech maker/most important friend at a special occasion (30%).
*I am really mad at Piktochart for cutting my first ‘awesome’ in half but life is too short to email them a third time.
- Finishing projects: 6/10 (up from 5/10)
Being punctual: 3/10 (no change)
Here is my entry to this year’s Tropscore competition. It was edited mainly on planes and in the bars of backpacker hostels, using a laptop that bloody loves to crash. Underneath is a song I contributed to my buddy’s Tropscore entry.
Is it smart to upload your first film scoring attempts to the internet? No, no it’s not. Should I have just left this locked up on my hard drive? Definitely.
I’d like to do more of this. Hit me up if you’re a budding filmmaker looking for scores.
Tony Abbott will be leading our country next week and Kevin Rudd is to blame.
Abbott’s stumbling, backward and blatantly dishonest media statements weren’t enough for us to forget Rudd’s treachery; clawing and scrambling back into the history books over the bodies of his comrades.
The whole ‘pick the party you least dislike’ scenario got me thinking about elections gone by and made me realise – there’s only one leader I know that could change the game up right now. One visionary with the experience and tenacity to separate the beige from the beige, and take on the Liberals like he did in the 2008 Monash University Student elections.
That man’s name is Wheelie McBarrow.
He’s aged a bit since the ’08 campaign, but Wheelie’s still got that fire.
He might not look like it now, but Wheelie scrubs up well.
- Historical knowledge: 3/10 (down from 4/10)
I thrust myself into an ideological warzone at the Victoria Markets with this tee shirt today.
Posted in 23. Research your shirt
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- Finishing projects: 5/10 (up from 4)
- Being busy: 9/10 (up from 7)
- Being good at art/cool graphics: 6/10 (up from 3)
- Being punctual: 2/10 (down from 4)
- Having lots of friends: 7/10 (down from 8)
It was 3am on a Thursday morning. My final submission for AWARD school was due at 5pm.
I was tracing Slipknot logos from an iPhone and wading back and forth through an ankle deep pile of screwed up tracing paper, red bull cans and beer bottles to mutter at a malfunctioning scanner.
Product: Foxtel Parental lock
Single-minded proposition: Make sure your kids aren’t watching programs that they shouldn’t.
Product: Australia Post / Paid Postage
Single-minded proposition: Encourage people to send more mail
For three months I’d pulled late nights, spent lunch breaks buried in my notepad and woke up at 4am stressing about ads. After pumping out forty ads every week it was time to submit my final eleven for scrutiny by advertising gurus. It was better than five years of university combined.
While things had gone really well up until that point – things weren’t going well now. The power went out for three hours. The internet died for six hours. The temperamental wi-fi scanner said FUCK YOU.