I entered a Sunday Magazine competition a couple of weeks ago. It asked the entrants to reply in 25 words or less why food kicks ass. I answered in a Haiku.
Ingredients meld,
The Kitchen Buzzes; Sounds, Smells!
Yum! And taste of course.
That effort was good enough to win a signed Luke Mangan cookbook. Do I know who Luke Mangan is? Not really. I think I've seen him on Masterchef. Anyways, I was pretty stoked, probably cos I love winning stuff. Go me!
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Complete a Poem
I've been working on this poem but I'm not too sure how to finish it.
Crack in the pavement;
Yo I'll step around it.
A crack in your body
Yo I'll pound it; genital surround it.
Any ideas?
Crack in the pavement;
Yo I'll step around it.
A crack in your body
Yo I'll pound it; genital surround it.
Any ideas?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Coping with Loss
The Forum 7's season continues and we just finished another game. This round we were up against the St Mary's Cougars and we won quite convincingly. I won Player of the Match for my effort entitled "Coping with Loss." Here it is below:
Coping with Loss.
The Warriors are underperforming this season and it’s hurting me. It was expected that the Warriors would build on their 2008 campaign and pose a genuine threat; instead the only thing they’ve threatened is my lust for life. Instead of expectantly awaiting finals football, most Warriors fans are merely waiting for the season to end. Some fans have even compared the current campaign to 2004 which, arguably was the worst season in Warriors history. To put that season into perspective, it’s almost as bad as watching the Kiwi’s win the World Cup if you are a Kangaroos fan, or watching Queensland win their fourth Origin Series in a row if you are a Blues fan, or if you’re a Queenslander at any point in history.
For most Warriors fans, myself included, the season died at 7pm Saturday June 27, 2009, or full time against the Gold Coast Titans. It’s now common to read about thoughts of next season which is terribly sad. Warriors fans now find themselves in that purgatory where they’ve spent 6 months waiting for the season to start, only to spend the next 6 months wishing the season would end.
It’s Round 16 and I’ve resigned myself to another season gone. As I watched the game draw to a close on Saturday night I felt the last spark of hope flicker and die within me. To be honest, I felt that spark dim a little when the Warriors chose to take the shot at goal instead of the tap in the 15th minute but, I still had hope and 65 mins on my side. I should’ve known better. As such, everything since that moment has been grey and flavourless, a bit like the gruel served up in Oliver, however only Titans fans, the League impoverished, or the sado-masochistic would ask for more. After that loss, I felt an emptiness which would ensure the long listless hours of Saturday night would blend into the wistful emptiness of a numb Sunday morning. Faced with such a stark reality and with no better options, I climbed into bed at 7:15pm and wept myself to sleep.
Sunday was pure misery. I decided to go to the shopping centre and brood for a bit. My fiancé asked what I was doing and I replied in a mono-sybyllic grunt. Out I stepped with my black hoodie, black jeans, and black shoes. I combed my hair forwards so it would block out the sun and I moped around with my hands in my pockets, ignoring every happy person I could. After wandering around I saw a water feature and a bunch of similarly tortured souls leaning against it so I stood nearby and allowed the silence and brooding to bond us. Eventually one of them spoke up:
“Tigers suck man”
It was a balding man in his late 30’s with a slight paunch and a look of defeat on his face. His comments were a self reflection and statement of fact. He spoke again.
“We haven’t done anything since 2005. We suck”
The other forlorn figures nodded with their own thoughts and burdens. Through a series of grunts and one word answers I found out that they were from Bondi, the Shire, and Balmain. The guy from Bondi showed us a couple of photo’s on his phone.
“That's me in 2001-2005. See how happy I was? Then 2006/07 happened and I started listening to 30 Seconds to Mars and Linkin Park CD’s.”
I looked at his well chewed fingernails as he pressed the “next” button. They were painted black. I felt his gaze on me and looked up. Surrounding the wells of self-pity that doubled as his eyes, was a faint black smudge. He was an emo! I backed away as he wiped his drooping black fringe from his eyes and in that moment I realised that if I kept up my self pitying behaviour I too would turn emo.
With that glimpse at my future I raced home. I crammed my “Mighty Warriors” DVD into the DVD player and watched seasons 2002/03 and felt some of the colour come back into my life. My answer now is to live in the past instead of the present. I’ve already arranged my next viewing of that DVD. It’ll be 7:30pm, this Friday night when the Broncos play a team that I still love, just not this season.
Yeah, I rock.
Coping with Loss.
The Warriors are underperforming this season and it’s hurting me. It was expected that the Warriors would build on their 2008 campaign and pose a genuine threat; instead the only thing they’ve threatened is my lust for life. Instead of expectantly awaiting finals football, most Warriors fans are merely waiting for the season to end. Some fans have even compared the current campaign to 2004 which, arguably was the worst season in Warriors history. To put that season into perspective, it’s almost as bad as watching the Kiwi’s win the World Cup if you are a Kangaroos fan, or watching Queensland win their fourth Origin Series in a row if you are a Blues fan, or if you’re a Queenslander at any point in history.
For most Warriors fans, myself included, the season died at 7pm Saturday June 27, 2009, or full time against the Gold Coast Titans. It’s now common to read about thoughts of next season which is terribly sad. Warriors fans now find themselves in that purgatory where they’ve spent 6 months waiting for the season to start, only to spend the next 6 months wishing the season would end.
It’s Round 16 and I’ve resigned myself to another season gone. As I watched the game draw to a close on Saturday night I felt the last spark of hope flicker and die within me. To be honest, I felt that spark dim a little when the Warriors chose to take the shot at goal instead of the tap in the 15th minute but, I still had hope and 65 mins on my side. I should’ve known better. As such, everything since that moment has been grey and flavourless, a bit like the gruel served up in Oliver, however only Titans fans, the League impoverished, or the sado-masochistic would ask for more. After that loss, I felt an emptiness which would ensure the long listless hours of Saturday night would blend into the wistful emptiness of a numb Sunday morning. Faced with such a stark reality and with no better options, I climbed into bed at 7:15pm and wept myself to sleep.
Sunday was pure misery. I decided to go to the shopping centre and brood for a bit. My fiancé asked what I was doing and I replied in a mono-sybyllic grunt. Out I stepped with my black hoodie, black jeans, and black shoes. I combed my hair forwards so it would block out the sun and I moped around with my hands in my pockets, ignoring every happy person I could. After wandering around I saw a water feature and a bunch of similarly tortured souls leaning against it so I stood nearby and allowed the silence and brooding to bond us. Eventually one of them spoke up:
“Tigers suck man”
It was a balding man in his late 30’s with a slight paunch and a look of defeat on his face. His comments were a self reflection and statement of fact. He spoke again.
“We haven’t done anything since 2005. We suck”
The other forlorn figures nodded with their own thoughts and burdens. Through a series of grunts and one word answers I found out that they were from Bondi, the Shire, and Balmain. The guy from Bondi showed us a couple of photo’s on his phone.
“That's me in 2001-2005. See how happy I was? Then 2006/07 happened and I started listening to 30 Seconds to Mars and Linkin Park CD’s.”
I looked at his well chewed fingernails as he pressed the “next” button. They were painted black. I felt his gaze on me and looked up. Surrounding the wells of self-pity that doubled as his eyes, was a faint black smudge. He was an emo! I backed away as he wiped his drooping black fringe from his eyes and in that moment I realised that if I kept up my self pitying behaviour I too would turn emo.
With that glimpse at my future I raced home. I crammed my “Mighty Warriors” DVD into the DVD player and watched seasons 2002/03 and felt some of the colour come back into my life. My answer now is to live in the past instead of the present. I’ve already arranged my next viewing of that DVD. It’ll be 7:30pm, this Friday night when the Broncos play a team that I still love, just not this season.
Yeah, I rock.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Nurseryrhymeku's
I tried to start a new trend on Twitter but I don't think it really took off. It's also because I don't really have that many people following me so no one cares but I think it's kinda cool. As the title suggests it's a nursery rhyme told in haiku version.
Here's a couple now.
Cutlery escapes;
Musical Cat, Leaping Cow;
Male Juvenile Laughs.
Jack and Jill ascend;
Fetching H2O, Jack falls;
Hurts head, Jill follows.
Mother Duck goes out;
Quacks after kids, cuts losses.
Continues, one down.
Pretty good eh? Can you guess what they are? Here's a hint: It's not Puss in Boots.
I even got advanced and wrote a nurserylimericku which is a nursery rhyme in limerick form with a rhyming last syllable in the first and third lines. Sounds complex right? It's not that bad. Observe.
Woman swallows fly,
Oh my! If she swallows more;
Perhaps she will die!
Go here to see more of it, well two more to be honest.
Here's a couple now.
Cutlery escapes;
Musical Cat, Leaping Cow;
Male Juvenile Laughs.
Jack and Jill ascend;
Fetching H2O, Jack falls;
Hurts head, Jill follows.
Mother Duck goes out;
Quacks after kids, cuts losses.
Continues, one down.
Pretty good eh? Can you guess what they are? Here's a hint: It's not Puss in Boots.
I even got advanced and wrote a nurserylimericku which is a nursery rhyme in limerick form with a rhyming last syllable in the first and third lines. Sounds complex right? It's not that bad. Observe.
Woman swallows fly,
Oh my! If she swallows more;
Perhaps she will die!
Go here to see more of it, well two more to be honest.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Townsville for 1.
Forum 7's that union of writing and league is back for 2009. We had our first game against the Dragons this week. We won by 1 point which means our editing and writing all were worth it.
I've decided to get a start on next weeks match by writing my next piece now. Enjoy.
Townsville for 1.
I’ve just had the gig from hell. I’m stuck on Church Street in Parramatta at 1am looking for a taxi. The crowd ebbs and flows around me but, I’m the loneliest man in the world.
I hail a taxi and get in. The cabbie is talkative. He asks where I’ve been. I reply Comedy. He asks me if I’m a comedian. I nod my head. He asks me to tell him a joke. I deliver it; poorly. He looks at me like I’m a sham. I know that already. At least the rest of the ride is silent.
I get home and pack. I find my jerseys. They all smell bad. I pick the least offensive and place it on top of my bag. I go to bed and set the alarm for 4:30am.
The alarm rings. My girlfriend rolls over. I kiss her forehead and I think she tells me to piss off. I shower, get dressed and wait.
My phone rings. It’s the shuttle service. I go outside. There is no shuttle. I call the number back and ask where he is. He says number 62. I look up the road and notice the red of some tail lights. I run. He’s stopped at number 52. I have a dyslexic driver to the airport.
Small talk is non-existent. I try to snooze but can’t. Dawn breaks.
I get to the airport and check in. I’m asked if I have any explosives. I’m tempted to say I bombed last night but don’t. I stop and get the paper. Someone asks me if I’m going to the game. I reply that I wear my Warriors jersey in airports on Sunday mornings to advertise the team. It isn’t received well.
I look up from the paper. I notice a Warriors fan. He comes over and introduces himself. He’s going to Townsville as well. He’s with his girlfriend. They hug. I could use a hug but I don’t ask for one. I cry inside.
We board the flight. We sit across the aisle from each other. He points out Steve Mascord, sitting 2 rows in front. Steve has a massive head and a sense of self satisfaction that I envy.
We get to Townsville. The airport is covered in blue, yellow and white crepe paper. It looks like Cowboy Christmas for bogans. We get a cab. I’m staying in the centre of town; they’re staying near the casino. We swap numbers.
It’s 9:30am. I’ve had 3 hrs sleep. I nap. The fan calls me. I wake. I meet the fan in the centre of town.
The highlight of the day is watching a drunk female call a group of girls sluts. They’re only 13 years old and it’s 11am. End highlight.
The fan goes back to his hotel. I spend the next three hours in the museum. The woman from museum reception sees me three times. I think she feels sorry for me and makes small talk. I am now sobbing inside. I buy a snow globe from the gift store. I don’t feel better.
I go to the casino and lose $20 on the pokies while I wait for the fan.
We catch the bus from the casino. It costs $8 one way. I’m outraged but pay as I know of no other travel option. The bus crawls along painfully and is soon full of Cowboys fans. I feel dirty.
We get to the ground. It’s in the middle of nowhere. There is more dust than grass. We pick up our tickets and find out we’re in the same bay. With some creative seat shifting we end up sitting together. It’s hot. The Warriors are wearing black. Not good.
The game starts. Thurston fires a forward pass to Bowen just before half time. Bowen scores, Thurston converts. It’s 18-12. I should have left then. The second half is torture. The fan leaves with 20 to go. I watch numbly as the Cowboys rack up 31 second half points. The crowd cheers. I don’t.
I leave the ground by myself. I catch the wrong bus and end up in a paddock opposite a shopping centre. I get back on the bus. I catch another bus. It’s the right bus but I know I’m in the wrong town.
I get back to my hostel. The fan won’t return my calls. I eat alone. There are other diners around me, but I’m the loneliest man in the world.
I've decided to get a start on next weeks match by writing my next piece now. Enjoy.
Townsville for 1.
I’ve just had the gig from hell. I’m stuck on Church Street in Parramatta at 1am looking for a taxi. The crowd ebbs and flows around me but, I’m the loneliest man in the world.
I hail a taxi and get in. The cabbie is talkative. He asks where I’ve been. I reply Comedy. He asks me if I’m a comedian. I nod my head. He asks me to tell him a joke. I deliver it; poorly. He looks at me like I’m a sham. I know that already. At least the rest of the ride is silent.
I get home and pack. I find my jerseys. They all smell bad. I pick the least offensive and place it on top of my bag. I go to bed and set the alarm for 4:30am.
The alarm rings. My girlfriend rolls over. I kiss her forehead and I think she tells me to piss off. I shower, get dressed and wait.
My phone rings. It’s the shuttle service. I go outside. There is no shuttle. I call the number back and ask where he is. He says number 62. I look up the road and notice the red of some tail lights. I run. He’s stopped at number 52. I have a dyslexic driver to the airport.
Small talk is non-existent. I try to snooze but can’t. Dawn breaks.
I get to the airport and check in. I’m asked if I have any explosives. I’m tempted to say I bombed last night but don’t. I stop and get the paper. Someone asks me if I’m going to the game. I reply that I wear my Warriors jersey in airports on Sunday mornings to advertise the team. It isn’t received well.
I look up from the paper. I notice a Warriors fan. He comes over and introduces himself. He’s going to Townsville as well. He’s with his girlfriend. They hug. I could use a hug but I don’t ask for one. I cry inside.
We board the flight. We sit across the aisle from each other. He points out Steve Mascord, sitting 2 rows in front. Steve has a massive head and a sense of self satisfaction that I envy.
We get to Townsville. The airport is covered in blue, yellow and white crepe paper. It looks like Cowboy Christmas for bogans. We get a cab. I’m staying in the centre of town; they’re staying near the casino. We swap numbers.
It’s 9:30am. I’ve had 3 hrs sleep. I nap. The fan calls me. I wake. I meet the fan in the centre of town.
The highlight of the day is watching a drunk female call a group of girls sluts. They’re only 13 years old and it’s 11am. End highlight.
The fan goes back to his hotel. I spend the next three hours in the museum. The woman from museum reception sees me three times. I think she feels sorry for me and makes small talk. I am now sobbing inside. I buy a snow globe from the gift store. I don’t feel better.
I go to the casino and lose $20 on the pokies while I wait for the fan.
We catch the bus from the casino. It costs $8 one way. I’m outraged but pay as I know of no other travel option. The bus crawls along painfully and is soon full of Cowboys fans. I feel dirty.
We get to the ground. It’s in the middle of nowhere. There is more dust than grass. We pick up our tickets and find out we’re in the same bay. With some creative seat shifting we end up sitting together. It’s hot. The Warriors are wearing black. Not good.
The game starts. Thurston fires a forward pass to Bowen just before half time. Bowen scores, Thurston converts. It’s 18-12. I should have left then. The second half is torture. The fan leaves with 20 to go. I watch numbly as the Cowboys rack up 31 second half points. The crowd cheers. I don’t.
I leave the ground by myself. I catch the wrong bus and end up in a paddock opposite a shopping centre. I get back on the bus. I catch another bus. It’s the right bus but I know I’m in the wrong town.
I get back to my hostel. The fan won’t return my calls. I eat alone. There are other diners around me, but I’m the loneliest man in the world.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Twitter is lonely
I'm still going. Read my status updates here.
I posted this pretty insightful series yesterday but no-one cared. Have I gone too far or is everyone too apathetic? Sigh...
I posted this pretty insightful series yesterday but no-one cared. Have I gone too far or is everyone too apathetic? Sigh...
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Rejection: Quotes
I like haggling. Being able to buy crap in bulk that I didn’t need for a fraction of the cost of something authentic which will last a fraction of the time as the authentic item is invigorating. Pitting my wits against a wily old shopkeep is the enthralling. I’ll even haggle (albeit unknowingly) during every day grocery transactions. We went to buy Magnum’s from a servo the other day and it was $3.50 for one or $6 for 2. I was happy with just the one but the shopkeep tried to upsell to the 2 for $6 option. I said, on the balance of things it probably wasn’t worth it but if it was 2 for $5 I’d do it as it presented a better value option. My mate looked at me and said “Are you haggling with Caltex?” I said no but now, upon review I see that I was. Is it a bad thing? Not really, perhaps socially unacceptable but unbad.
Recently my haggling skills have been used in a more formal setting; receiving holiday quotes. Just like the stock market is gambling for white collars, I reckon requesting quotes is just a more sophisticated version of haggling. I had to get quotes for the impending honeymoon as I’ve allowed Marissa to do everything else so far and she’ll probably crack it if I continue to do so. The process went well and we were able to save about $1800 on requesting quotes and different package options; money that will go straight on the oversized cocktails and tacky tourist crap. The worst part about requesting these quotes is that I have to tell people that they weren’t successful with their submission to create a honeymoon package for our wedding. We fear rejection and I think people try to shy away from rejecting people. I don’t. It either makes me a tender soul or completely oblivious to the needs and feelings of others. I’ll let you decide.
I like to add a personal touch and I’ll type up a little rejection email and send it out to them sandwiched between compliments.
Try it yourself with tradesmen, professionals and even your local supermarket and let me know the results. Letters for the people!
Recently my haggling skills have been used in a more formal setting; receiving holiday quotes. Just like the stock market is gambling for white collars, I reckon requesting quotes is just a more sophisticated version of haggling. I had to get quotes for the impending honeymoon as I’ve allowed Marissa to do everything else so far and she’ll probably crack it if I continue to do so. The process went well and we were able to save about $1800 on requesting quotes and different package options; money that will go straight on the oversized cocktails and tacky tourist crap. The worst part about requesting these quotes is that I have to tell people that they weren’t successful with their submission to create a honeymoon package for our wedding. We fear rejection and I think people try to shy away from rejecting people. I don’t. It either makes me a tender soul or completely oblivious to the needs and feelings of others. I’ll let you decide.
I like to add a personal touch and I’ll type up a little rejection email and send it out to them sandwiched between compliments.
Dear Agent,
Thanks for your recent submission for Cashman Honeymoon 2009. Out of all the travel agents we saw your carpets were by far and away the cleanest. (You can interchange this with your teeth were the whitest, you had the most picturesque posters on your wall or perhaps come up with your own.)
We were overwhelmed by the quality of the quotes and we regret to inform you that unfortunately you were unsuccessful with your pricing.
It’s not all bad news though. We believe you should keep at it. You have a winning attitude, just not this time and we’re sure you will be successful with another couple in the not too distant future. (I like to keep this part standard. Some people think it may be condescending, I like to think it’s encouraging)
Regards
Ray Cashman
Try it yourself with tradesmen, professionals and even your local supermarket and let me know the results. Letters for the people!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Sexual Chocolate
Try saying it at least once in a conversation with a friend, colleague or loved one and then see if they pull you up on it. If not keep using it till someone does. I'm making it my phrase of 09. That or Condensation is Massive.
Upon reflection, Sexual Chocolate is stacks better.
Upon reflection, Sexual Chocolate is stacks better.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I started on twitter and I don’t know if I like it. I’m raypower over there and I’m currently using it to post what my facebook status says. Right now, it’s like a less successful echo. It’s probably as futile as this blog really. I’ll persevere and let you know how it goes through tweets. Add me if you like. I won’t mind.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Interview
I got interviewed with Jamie yesterday afternoon about the GPO. The interviewer was a nice but slightly disinterested guy called Jake. We met at the water feature at St Leonards station. He said he'd be wearing a tan hat but it was more off white/grey than tan. He needed a chocolate bar to function. He actually called it candy which was weird and cultural.
I'm not too sure what he expected but we had fun mostly at his and other peoples expense. He asked what our inspiration was and we fell into a good cop/bad cop routine. Where Jamie wrote to shake people out of their rut, I wrote to hurt people. I likened my poetry to the stories of people leaving razor blades in water slides - they're not going to be there in the water slide when it cuts someone open, but they know that they'll be hurting someone. I believe that my poetry is a literary razor blade waiting to mind cut someone. Jake was disturbed by this and reacted physically by cringing and moving away slightly. We discussed more stuff about organic growth and trying to find the worst in people by writing horrible, dirty poetry. I saw some fear and it was ace.
The highlight came about 40 mins into the interview. We had left army men strapped with poetry around the water feature at St Leonards and watched people's reactions. We'd had a couple of nibbles from people who looked but didn't touch until this old guy picked up two soldiers only to put them down again. He then walked up to a line of seven and by that stage his defences were down. He made sure he picked the one that called to him the most and took it home to his invalid wife to share a poem that most likely has something to do with sodomy.
Five minutes afterwards a group of four 20 somethings picked up a soldier each and had an impromptu rectal with our work. It felt great, watching them from across the water feature, reciting, leaning back and laughing in appreciation. They walked off and passed two bins but they didn't feel the need to dispose of our poems. They kept them to show to friends and perhaps family.
Hopefully Jake felt some vaildation at that moment as we'd wasted his time for about 50 mins up until that point. He asked a couple more questions and made his retreat. I like to think we had done well. If anything becomes of the interview I'll let you know asap.
Anyways, to round out here's a picture of a water slide - hopefully without razor blades.
Here's the photo stream if you liked the photo.
I'm not too sure what he expected but we had fun mostly at his and other peoples expense. He asked what our inspiration was and we fell into a good cop/bad cop routine. Where Jamie wrote to shake people out of their rut, I wrote to hurt people. I likened my poetry to the stories of people leaving razor blades in water slides - they're not going to be there in the water slide when it cuts someone open, but they know that they'll be hurting someone. I believe that my poetry is a literary razor blade waiting to mind cut someone. Jake was disturbed by this and reacted physically by cringing and moving away slightly. We discussed more stuff about organic growth and trying to find the worst in people by writing horrible, dirty poetry. I saw some fear and it was ace.
The highlight came about 40 mins into the interview. We had left army men strapped with poetry around the water feature at St Leonards and watched people's reactions. We'd had a couple of nibbles from people who looked but didn't touch until this old guy picked up two soldiers only to put them down again. He then walked up to a line of seven and by that stage his defences were down. He made sure he picked the one that called to him the most and took it home to his invalid wife to share a poem that most likely has something to do with sodomy.
Five minutes afterwards a group of four 20 somethings picked up a soldier each and had an impromptu rectal with our work. It felt great, watching them from across the water feature, reciting, leaning back and laughing in appreciation. They walked off and passed two bins but they didn't feel the need to dispose of our poems. They kept them to show to friends and perhaps family.
Hopefully Jake felt some vaildation at that moment as we'd wasted his time for about 50 mins up until that point. He asked a couple more questions and made his retreat. I like to think we had done well. If anything becomes of the interview I'll let you know asap.
Anyways, to round out here's a picture of a water slide - hopefully without razor blades.
Here's the photo stream if you liked the photo.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Forum 7's
I kind of alluded to a nerdy writing competition that I'm involved in here. Although it is extremely nerdy it combines three things I love which are league, humour, writing and balls - oh that's four things. It's called Forum 7's and every week teams of E-players submit 5 articles for their adopted club and try to get the highest score. Last year I won rookie of the year which was ace. This year I won a place in Team of the Year and joint Warriors MVP which I was pretty stoked about to be honest.
Usually I just write drivel but it seems as though people appreciated it this year enough to recognise it and for that I'm grateful. I've been judged by an online peer group that I'm never likely to meet and been included as one of them and that my friends is the best e-feeling you can get.
Here are my trophies/award banners.
Notice how they shine?
Anyways, here's probably the best summary of the competition and why I'm in it. Of course it's an article by me. What I found funny was the mention of blogging. What a wanker I've become...
Usually I just write drivel but it seems as though people appreciated it this year enough to recognise it and for that I'm grateful. I've been judged by an online peer group that I'm never likely to meet and been included as one of them and that my friends is the best e-feeling you can get.
Here are my trophies/award banners.
Notice how they shine?
Anyways, here's probably the best summary of the competition and why I'm in it. Of course it's an article by me. What I found funny was the mention of blogging. What a wanker I've become...
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Stories - Piss take
I haven't had too much to say for the past week so I'll put this up instead. It's part of an article writing forum that I take part in to keep the old senses sharp and the humour funny and all.
Here it is in all its glory, I present Piss Take.
The rest of the forum is here.
Here it is in all its glory, I present Piss Take.
The rest of the forum is here.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Letter
We got a notice that our landlord was going to increase the rent for the second time this year. That kinda sucked. That said, the proposed increase would still be about $50 per week less than the median lease price for 2 br units in the area and we don't live in a hovel, so, I guess we're still getting a good deal. With these things though it's more the principle of it. Being a reasonable human being, I wrote them the following letter.
NB: Names and monetary amounts have been removed to protect the innocent.
Anyways, given the nature of my awesome letter writing skillz they agreed. Instead of giving them more money each forthnight, I negotiated to give them half the proposed more money each fortnight. Feel free to use my letter if you ever find yourself in the same situation.
NB: Names and monetary amounts have been removed to protect the innocent.
Hi [insert real estate agent],
Further to our discussion last week I’m writing to negotiate the latest proposed rent increase. Since March 2008 our rent has gone from $XXX per fortnight to our current rent of $XXX. The latest proposal takes it to $XXX per fortnight which is a 21% increase in 8 months. This far outstrips any CPI increase or the sum total of the interest rate hikes over the past 2 years. We understand the climate of the market currently, however with interest rates expected to come down for the second time in the past month (http://business.smh.com.au/business/rba-points-to-lower-rates-20080908-4bpm.html) we feel that two rent increases in 2008 is a bit excessive especially as we requested a lease at the last increase but were denied.
We believe that we’ve been good tenants with no payment delinquency and we have only requested work on the unit when absolutely necessary (broken oven, faulty light fixtures, fly screens for the windows in summer, leaky pipes). The value of having dependable tenants is something that is sometimes overlooked and we hope this comes into consideration. Also from a personal perspective, we’re attempting to budget for our wedding in August next year and fear that a continuation of rate increases will affect our budgeting. We feel that it would be fair to both parties if the rent went to $XXX per fortnight (which is a 13% increase this year) given the shifting nature of the market, we would also like to discuss the possibility of a lease to assist with budgeting.
We look forward to a fair and reasonable response.
Regards and thanks for your time.
[insert tennant name here]
Anyways, given the nature of my awesome letter writing skillz they agreed. Instead of giving them more money each forthnight, I negotiated to give them half the proposed more money each fortnight. Feel free to use my letter if you ever find yourself in the same situation.
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