Its all in a MAME

Being a Uber-nerd I have built an arcade machine for home. Its kind of mandatory if you wish to participate in the online community with any authority. Which I do. Cause AFAIK I am l33t lol OMGBBQ.

The boys have grown quite attached to the arcade, often demanding to play the "fighting game". Thats right. No pacman, no space invaders, no wonderboy. They are only concerned with one thing; brutally tearing each other apart with animated avatars. I am so PROUD!

Unfortunately these gladiatorial encounters are rather one sided. Jasper has picked up the concept like a young Luke Skywalker, jumping and ducking while pushing several buttons at once. He never saw me do this, he just figured it out by using the force. Eli is the exact opposite. He is more like Ja Ja Binks. He has no force. He is negative in the force. He REALLY has no Kung Fu. (Eli you are still cool BRO)He thinks he is just watching a particularly violent cartoon, which curiously always ends with the guy on his side of the TV dead.

I know you are all thinking that little kids shouldn't play violent games, maybe you're right. Strangely though it doesn't seem to stir them. In fact they fight less during the day if they know they will get a turn on the "fighting game" at night. Still, I did notice Jasper attempting to axe kick a stuffed animal. Weird.

I reckon it would be a great way to sort out differences. Having a disagreement with the wife? Throw on Mortal Kombat and sort it out pixel style. Last time we fought I think Renae won the argument by removing my spine. Ouch. And not at all allegorical.

Eels rejoice!

They've done it. The blue and golds' are going to the big one, the GF, the premiership decider. Who would have thought it was possible.

Three months ago I was reading through a Eels forum and debating how large the can of whup-ass was going to be this week. I proposed 30 points, many others thought we'd be done by 50. It seemed a little pessimistic but hey, this is Parramatta, anything is possible.

How were we to know that as we contemplated our next flogging the Eels were on the cusp of greatness. Winning 11 from 12 they have surged to the grand final like Kelly Slater, carving up the shore break and giving the geeks a sand facial(That was little over top dude-Ed)(PS. I don't really have an editor).

So are we done yet? Will we win the big one and send 100,000 Eels fans in to a state of total uselessness? Will we hear Peter Sterling lose all self control and whoop as Mortimer dives over to seal the game? It remains to be seen.

But having got this far they're alright in my books..... BLAH BLAH BLAH. Rubbish! If they don't win I'll hate them all! Its not done yet boys. I know that 3 months ago in 15th place you all had units at the Gold Coast booked for early September. Don't let that cancellation fee go to waste!

Win for me boys, win it for Sterlo, and I suppose you can win it for yourselves too. I'm off to debate how big the can of whup-ass you'll be opening will be.....

September dash

Two things are certain in September; weddings and magpies. If you aren't avoiding one you're avoiding the other.

It raises the question of why do they do it. I'm not referring to the imminent nuptials but rather our feathered friends and their police state tactics. Obviously we are all aware that they are breeding and protecting their young, but I seriously question their risk assessment abilities.

I can hardly envision Grandma Smith dashing across the road and scaling their gum tree, intent on guzzling down some Maggie chicklettes. Yet when she ambles past on her wheeley walker she gets the whole show, beak snapping, feathers flying, that awful shadow hovering her. Luckily she has her bingo trophy to wave it away with or she could lose a hearing aid.

So how do you deal with it? Not everyone has a bingo trophy. It seems the smart people have developed a technique I have dubbed zippy hat. This is where you attach a number of zip ties to your helmet or hat to give a porcupine effect.

I was privileged to see one in action today. Boy rides down street, Maggie hovers close to head but never actually strikes, boy responds by throwing his head back occasionally. I'm not sure what the head throwing was attempting to achieve except perhaps a trip to the chiropractor but the Zippy hat seemed to work. Might have to make one....

Will have to conduct further tests of course. Who can fathom the far reaching effect of the Zippy hat? It may have countless applications outside maggie deterrence. It could hold your keys perhaps a spare donut.

Its gold when you think about it. I guarantee if you wear one of these around you'll most likely avoid that other September certainty too. Now go make one!

Warning to parents

Parents beware! Organised children's sport has many pitfalls for beginner parents. It is so easy to succumb to visions of your child excelling through extraordinary skill and determination, their hunger for success unrivalled. Other parents glare at you enviously while you pretend not to notice that your child is a sporting god.

Of course its not like this. What really goes on is profoundly more mundane. We have recently joined Little Athletics which presents a few challenges to would be super-Dads. My child for example is not naturally very talented. In running races her place card usually also represents the number racers involved. As she saunters over the line and receives her place card she exclaims "Look Dad I got 5 and I AM 5!"

Which brings me to the next point. Kids just don't care about winning like we do. They don't compare themselves to others, judge themselves according to what others may be doing. "You want me to jump in the sandpit? I guess I could do that. Only if I get MCDonalds later though."

But to be honest most of us can deal with this. Kids are kids right? As long as they have fun its cool. I'll just sit here under the umbrella and watch. Life is good.

But then the pleading starts. We need someone to ref, run sideline, measure, rake, cut oranges, wash jerseys and usher crying kids back to their parents. Thank you so much.

How did this happen. Instead of basking in the glory of my child's success I get sunstroke while trying to organise everyone else's kids. I get abused by parents who were too smart to get suckered in like me. And heaven forbid you get something wrong, because then they question your professionalism as an official. Yeah, it might not be obvious but I don't actually use stopwatches for a living.

But its ok. While I wait for my daughter to finish her race I can always console myself that there will be McDonalds after.

Welcome to the Compost

Why blog. Because I can? Because its there? Because I'm a narcissistic twit who wants everyone to know whats in my head?

Those of you who circled the latter are no longer my friends and must leave, but for the rest of my adoring fans dying to know my inner most thoughts I have some shattering news; this blog is largely a self interested project.

Journalling is something I've long wanted to do. To reflect on my thoughts in some structured way is uniquely soothing. When your ideas and passions hit the page they somehow become validated, as if spending two hours pondering how to paint your arcade machine was Australian of the Year material.

So why blog? To organise my thoughts. To lay down all the things that trample through my head day and night. To sooth the mind. So join me if you want and don't forget this twit when you vote for Australian of the year.