So it’s been a while… firstly let me apologise for the extended absence (although your care factor towards this largely hangs on the whether this blog actually has regular readers and/or those readers care about the blogger). It’s a long story, actually it’s not but I’ve just said that to make it sound like my life is much more impressive than it actually is. Really, the story is quite short and goes along the lines of: I have once again fallen victim to the mighty, supernatural powers of Steve Jobs’ ghost. Yes you read that correctly. I am of the firm belief that after his death, Mr. Jobs, somehow managed (perhaps through a similar method used by Voldemort) to instill a small fragment of his soul into every Apple product in the world. And now, is haunting many Apple users across the globe.
Sounds ridiculous, but hear me out. I recently got a new hard-drive because the old one collapsed in on itself like so many portals in a science fiction movie. It was a pretty shit time for everyone involved. I had two assignments still due and both of them had been swallowed up by the dying hardware (no I didn’t back anything up because no-one actually does that except in hindsight or after they experience the profound loss of everything digital that they own) and essentially I was a grumpy mess. However the lovely people at Apple came to the rescue and gave me a brand spanking new hard-drive (I say gave, it cost me $300 plus). Now all this happened about three months ago, you can imagine my surprise and shock when…it happened again (only this time I did back everything up, you know because hindsight is wonderful).
A little technologically irked I went to the Apple gurus and demanded explanations: the best response was that sometimes this just happens. They agreed to replace it and that was that. But I wasn’t happy with the explanation given that it ‘just happens’. Thus I have developed my own theory: my hard-drive was attacked by the ghostly remnant of the Apple founder and CEO whose soul has been imbibed into my computer. So now, I have covered my laptop in salt (because if Supernatural has taught me anything it’s that ghosts hate that shit) and I have a vacuum cleaner strapped to my back, should the spectre make itself known. This theory is not so far-fetched when you think about it, in fakt it makes a lot of sense. After all people are finding that their new iPhone 5’s are sporadically glitching up…the only logically explanation can be ghostly interference from an ex-CEO who finds the new design stupid and doesn’t agree with the idea of an iPad mini.
But moving on from the Phantom of Apple, we have some catching up to do. After all a lot has gone down since we last spoke (now when I say a lot I probably mean a bit of stuff has happened so don’t be upset if you are underwhelmed by my ‘breaking’ news). We have new residents at 503. Dan has moved out (or at least that’s what Michaela told me after I came home one day and found her vigorously cleaning a cleaver in the sink and no trace of Dan, this is coupled with the fakt that she has been recently taking notes while watching Dexter) and a pair of French cousins have taken his place. Silvia and Mathieu are yet to face off with Dolores, I am waiting with bated breath for the sound of slurping and screams accompanying teeth brushing, but nevertheless are a lovely pair of people. Naturally I have done the thing that all Australians do when met with someone who speaks a foreign language: ask to be taught insults and swearwords in said language. Why would you want to say “How are you?” when you can call someone a fuckwit in five different languages?
That’s it really (besides an excellent purchase of Donkey Kong Country Returns and my completion of second year). I told you that you might be feeling underwhelmed…sorry for that. However on a totally unrelated topic, apparently today is a pretty big deal for all of those around the state. Apparently there’s some event on that’s supposed to be pretty damn important or something like that. I don’t really know what the deal is but there’s a cup and a dude with huge eyebrows named after a member of the Simpsons…
Yes, I’ll admit it: I don’t understand anything to do with horse racing season (is it a season? The ads tell me it’s spring and that’s when a lot of these things happen so I’m going to say yes, yes it is a season). In fakt I don’t understand to such a degree here is a list of the things I don’t understand about horse racing season (and specifically the Melbourne Cup).
Things Tom Doesn’t Get About The Melbourne Cup.
1. First of all what is the deal with the event’s tagline? “The Race That Stops The Nation.” I’m sorry but that’s not a thing. The cup does not stop the nation. What you’re talking about there is a momentary lapse in the movement of time. This is not caused by a horse race. The usual reason for this is that a recreational time-traveller has accidentally run into a past version of themselves. Yep. That makes more sense than a horse race halting an entire country of people. So please drop the tagline and change it to something actually describes the event…like: “A Time For Drunk People Who Don’t Even Like Horses To Come Together” or “Neigh, Neigh, Neigh, Neeeiggghhh!”
2. Fascinators. What the fuck is a fascinator? It’s not a hat. It serves no function besides making the wearer look like either a small fish that has swum into a very small, highly decorative net or an upper class witch doctor. And people spend a fortune on them. I overheard a conversation on the train where a woman was talking about a fascinator costing as much as my car. MY CAR IS THE SAME PRICE AS A FASCINATOR. WHAT IS HAPPENING? Seriously, people going to the races this year, buy me dinner and I will make you a fascinator. It doesn’t seem to be that difficult, in fakt they all look like something a child makes their mother back in kindergarten (just with a noted absence of pasta…although I will add pasta if you deem it necessary). The one thing I will say about the fascinator is that its name is apt. The principle behind such headwear is indeed fascinating.
3. Gambling. I’ve never been one to participate in the pastime of many Australians across the country. I don’t have a flutter or a punt or a wager. I like my money to be used for things like ice-cream, video game purchases and spaghetti ingredients. Gambling to me is a totally foreign world, an activity that is as alien as virgin sacrifice and enjoying mathematics. I say why not just throw large wads of cash into the Yarra, get rid of the middle man, because after all that’s the only thing you’re going to achieve whilst having a flutter. Maybe I don’t get it because I don’t have the spare cash to chuck $1000 on a horse named Next Stop Glue Factory with odds of 14:1. Whatever the reason I just don’t get the obsession, trend or whatever associated with betting on the races. Or rather betting in general, because these days you can bet on pretty much anything from election results to which AFL player is going to be arrested for being drunk and disorderly behaviour next week. However if I was a betting man I would put my money on the fakt that that drunk guy literally throwing money at a horse, doesn’t understand the concept either.
4. People going to the races to get completely blind drunk. They are a select group of people who go to the races because they have an invested interest in the outcome. Some are passionate horse race watchers (I’m pretty sure that’s a thing). Others are famous and sponsored by the race sponsors so have to make an appearance at some tent so people will buy new shoes, champagne coolers and/or bow-ties The other category of people at races are the people participating in Australia’s other favourite pastime: getting staggeringly and resoundingly drunk. Sure, okay if that’s what you want to do…but why not just do it somewhere else? Somewhere cheaper? Why fork out x amount of dollars to go to an event you’re trying to erase from your memory before it’s even over? Then again if these people didn’t go the races, get pissed and put money on horses that look like their exes, our economy would have collapsed long ago. So maybe it’s a good thing?
And that’s my rant out of the way. Sorry for the length but I’ve been gone a while….
Take care, and if you must bet then my money is on that motorbike disguised as a horse…