Dictionary revisions

Welcome to the Bastard Dictionary of the Apocalypse, aka: John's guide to frigged and expired words.

Today's entry is:

Hero (From the latin "Here, ya zero" - "to award unnecessary praise and stature")

1. A person who survives - an avalanche, plane crash or other event, generally by no significant action of their own.
2. A person who performs a clutch, last moment play whilst participating in a sporting or social event - see basketball, football, knitting etc.
3. Someone who plays air guitar really well.

Happy Chocolate Day, fuckers!!

Yeaster: The time of the year when we celebrate the savage ritual killing of a man with a yeast infection, 200 years ago, by a horde of brown rabbits adorned in brightly coloured battle armour. As a tribute to their savage successes in battle we celebrate by eating their unborn young.

The life cycle of the Easter Bunny is perhaps one of the more complex aspects of religion and biology ever devised. It's right up there with the Xenomorph and the butterfly for complexity, i.e. a domesticated rabbit and a rooster copulate, and their offspring is either a stillborn somewhat waxy but delicious brown rabbit, or an undeveloped embryo within an egg consisting of the same material as that of the sibling stillborn rabbit. So, never having seen one of the eggs hatch, do the brown rabbits grow hair, or will an occasional egg actually survive the refrigeration process and being wrapped in metal and thus produce a new rabbit?

It's a slow day. Can you tell?

The week has been fun though. Losing in a tight game at Thursday pub trivia, enjoying my TAFE studies and then there was Saturday..

Whilst the football was shit, catching up with Sim was a lot of fun. Although brief, it's a blast and helps makes the trip worthwhile when the team lets me down and I have a long trip home.

When I say long, I mean long. I was at Lidcombe station at about 10pm, where I asked what time the next service through to the Blue Mountains was. About 10.30 said the City Rail employee. So, I waited. Nothing. I caught the train to Parramatta, where I found that no services for the mountains would have stopped at Lidcombe at all that night. I waited at Parramatta until about midnight before catching another train into the mountains, to Katoomba, as it would only be going to Mount Victoria rather than Lithgow. I stopped at Katoomba because it has a decent waiting room and more vending machines than Mount Vic, which at night is like a morgue.

So, I stood around in the damn tunnel until about 2.30am because the waiting room was locked, whilst the station workers all sat in their nice warm office watching TV and having hot drinks. What arseholes.

I finally stepped through my front door at 4.01am.

Tired, but I ended up awake until 6am, as a basketball game I wanted watch was on. Hah.. yet another losing team.

"Hot Matches"

Did you ever get an email that says "Hot Matches" that you automatically assumed was from the dating website you're a member of, but instead it turned out to be from the genealogy website you're a member of? Oh yeah, me too. It's always a great time to be had when instead of an email full of potentially interesting and beautiful women, you've a list of people who have been dead for centuries, of which the majority are more than likely related to you.

Not really my thing, but who am I to judge? If anyone has a heart-warming success story of when they hooked up with a dead ancestor, I'd love to hear about it (without too many details).