A Call to Action: An olilolo Supported Charity.

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How many poor pigs must be slaughtered before we step in and stop this war?

How many birds will give their lives away, brutally thrown in to wood, ice and concrete before we say enough is enough?

Right now, across the globe, there are pigs being beaten, battered, crushed, and blown up. They’re being abused and killed for the entertainment of the masses.

Right now, in labs, there are birds going through excruciating medical experiments to be turned into modern day gladiators for these games. They’re being grossly enlarged, torn asunder, filled with explosives, and made to shit lethal eggs of death; they’re being crafted into soulless killing machines.

For just $1 a day you can help save these lives.

peaceable avians

At “Peaceable Avians”, we help the victims of this war find hope in the face of suffering.

air drop

We air drop clothing, medicines and slops right into the heart of the warzone.

orphanage

While for the thousands left orphaned, we run mixed-species children’s homes where they can find warmth, feel safe and most importantly learn tolerance of one another.

So please support Peaceable Avians today.

help stop the anger

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Touch Wars: Return of the Sasquatch

Mansfield Sasquatches logo

With a heavy gut and a diseased heart the Mansfield Sasquatches took the field for their 11th consecutive Touch Football season on Wednesday night; but fate was to play a cruel fate-filled joke on them that fateful night of fate.

Their opposition was their ancient enemy Touchwood, renamed “Southern Star” in an attempt to confuse the homo-sasquids.

Their Previous Encounter – Wednesday, 16th February 2011

The last game between these two Touch Football heavyweights (one for being highly skilled, one for just being heavy) had been the last game of the previous season – the last game either side had played.

That night the Sassies, turning their collective consciousness towards thinking up dazzling strategies and plays to use, thought up an ingenious plan to unsettle their defences which had one touch football commentator calling it a genius plan of geniusness rivalled only by the original three wise men and their plan to regift some excess myrrh.

The idea started thus; the Sassies, high on adrenaline would throw themselves full force into attack for the first half, or at least until they tired a few minutes in. Then with the trap set, it was time for it to spring closed.

The half time siren blared and the mighty Sasquatches, with renewed vigour and life, sprang into action grabbing a table chocked full of food; including but not limited to sausage rolls, little meat pies, two different sorts of choc-chip biscuits, Red Rooster, Piefection pie filling vol au vents, etc; and transported it onto the field. Then with a toast of cheap champagne the food was consumed with a ravenous frenzy.

Mansfield Sasquatches half-time Touch Football feast at White's Hill

hunger, lust

At first the benefit of this was difficult to see. Experts, in fact even normal people, would agree that having a dinner party before, after and during strenuous exercise is not recommended – In fact the official government classification of such an event is ‘F’ing Stupid’. However after a few minutes the effects were starting to appear.

Fear and Loathing

Touchwood, witnessing the gluttonous frenzy from a safe distance, began to pale. Some of those of a weaker nature were weeping openly, while even the strongest were visibly shaken. When finally the vomiting starting there was nothing that was going to stop it.

With only minutes to the resumption of play, a contented Sassy team shoved the last of the scraps into their pockets for a midgame boost, and whisked the table again from the field. In a food induced hallucination, they retook their positions and readied themselves for the coming battle.

While the whole event had only lasted a few minutes, the damage was done and a changed Touchwood formed up across the field. Where once there was courage, now only despair reigned. Where once a love of life pervaded their team, now they only experienced a soulless miasma of colours thrown together by the scraps left of their consciousness in an effort to regain true sentience. They were a broken shell of a team.

Exact details are sketchy of the rest of the game, most fans and officials had fled long before this point, but it is known a weighed down and noticeably slower Sassy team fought on and stole victory!… Victory in the form of a tie.

The Rematch – Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Captain Doyle, ditching his understanding and long-suffering wife on her birthday, led the “Mighty Fighting-Irish Mansfield Sasquatches” onto the field for what was the first and most anticipated game of the season.

Some passes were made, sometimes in the right direction; some balls were dropped, unsurprisingly; and even some tries scored, mostly by Southern Star but Matty did lose his in-goal virginity with a beautiful dummy-pass which threw the opposition into a spin.

Result: Southern Star 15, Mansfield Sasquatches 7.


Competition: BMTA – Mixed 6
Date: 9.20pm. Wednesday 23rd March 2011
Venue: Whites Hill Reserve – Field 2
Crowd Size: 0
Mansfield Sasquatch Players: Doyle, Stu, Pete, Matty, David, Lachlan, Bruce, Dani, Sian, Kristen, Tenielle, Jodie, Sam, Jackie.
Tries: Lachlan x 4, David x 2, Matty x 1.
Man of the Match: Matty for finally becoming a man.

Awesome Book Reviews of Awesomeness

Pete, in a sign of how hard he works at his post here at olilolo, has decided to release a book of his sketches called “Just another Violent Friday” which he’s going to launch at the local “Supanova Pop Culture (nerd) Expo”. It’s a lovely little number with violence inspired sketches he has drawn, primarily after his weekly meetings with Disco Stu.

A few days ago he put the call out to his few remaining friends to provide some quotes for the back cover.

Since I’m too lazy to write anything creative myself, and this was free material, I’ve decided to repost it here without anyone’s consent.

Enjoy!

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Doyle’s Quotes

“I used to be an innocent catholic schoolgirl, but thanks to ‘Violent Fridays’ I’m now wanted in 4 countries. Thanks Mr Yong!”

“Great. Entertaining. Light hearted fun. These are all adjectives!”

“I picked up this book and next thing I know I was waking up in an ice bath. 4 stars!”

“I loved the Da Vinci Code.”

“It went through me like a Bondi tram”

“First I was afraid, I was petrified.”

“I haven’t been able to keep my hands off myself in weeks.”

“This book is as welcome in Brisbane today as a yellow-bellied black snake at a barbecue.”

“The girl’s happy.”
- R Hunt.

“Great binding. High quality paper! Two thumbs up.”

“It’s like gunshot wound to the face. Then having that wound reopened and rubbing salt into it. Then punching a small kid in the guts.”

“I’m now blinded in one eye!”

“Like a full body abortion… to the eyes.”

“This book killed my children.”

“Like heroin injected into your retinas.”

“If this book was a food, it would be a sickening slurry.”

“Even the smallest weakling will be hardened by this violence fest. I now wear dynamite pants and barbed wire shirts.”

“Banned in 5 countries. On the curriculum in 6.”

“This book stole my wallet.”

“No I won’t give you a quote for your stupid book.”

“Enthralling. I loved every word. The pictures? Not really my thing.”

“It has the fibre and nutrients to give my kids the start they need.”

“Violence in a book? Australia says yes.”

\——————\–––––/——————/

David’s Quotes

“Oh, God yes. Finally a book that caters to my love of violence and fridays; and my distaste for the written word.”

“To behold its magnificence, its glory and its splendour is to initiate a chain of orgasms that may never stop.”

“It’s a book!”

\——————\–––––/——————/

Bruce’s Quotes

“It made me spit tea out of my nose.”

“Oh no, Peter! What have you done!? Just awful. Peter.”
- M. Yong

“I’d rather read the Microsoft Windows licence agreement. Over and over again.”

“What an enchanting tale of a boy wizard, and the mischief and hijinks he gets up to with his friends at school. Two stars.”

“Well that’s four minutes of my life I’m never getting back.”

“Better than Danielle Steel’s Kaleidoscope.”

“Better than that time I snorted powdered milk.”

“Proof that there is no God.”

“A disturbing insight into the mind of a psychopath.”

“If I were a book, I would want this book to have my children.”

“Has a fruity, musky taste with undertones of smoke and cinnamon.”

“This book gave me an irrational fear of cats.”

\——————\–––––/——————/

Weddings: One drunk’s experience from ground zero

I attended a daytime wedding on the weekend. Purely because my wife was in the bridal party and I had nothing else to do, I decided to note my various experiences for my lovely readers on my phone.

Enjoy the pointless ramblings, and savour the disjointed thoughts.

\——————\–/——————/

11.58am – Weddings. There’s something special about weddings. It drives women insane! Unfair, over simplified stereotype? Possibly, but it’s definitely true for my wife. I’ve never met anyone who gets so excited/frazzled over one day. Want an explanation reader? No. You give ME an explanation. Where are your pants? It’s irrelevant questions like this which ruin a nice day. I’m not wearing pants. What has that got to do with going to a wedding? Everything? Okay, Possibly.

12.04pm – Okay so now I’m in the toilet committing atrocities against mankind and his plumbing systems. It’s so hot. Quenching my thirst with beer is going badly. Maybe I should drink some water. No! A $4000 bar tab is there for a reason. It’s not for me to puss out on.

12.13pm – Still in the toilet. It’s cooler in here.

12.16pm – Okay I’ve met the people I’m sitting with. I know most of them, even if only vaguely. The plan: Smash back a heap of grog, make friends with everyone.

12.30pm – God dammit. Car talk. I got nothing. This was going so nicely. Why do guys have to talk about something so bloody boring? Sure I watch top gear, but that for the comedy aspects. Cars. They’re just bits of moving metal. Right. Change of subject, yes! What? Surfing? Shit I got nothing.

1.13pm – My son is slowly destroying his piece of wedding cake. He’s cushing it into the high chair table. I would have eaten the guys left overs. Selfish little bugger. Oh wait now he’s throwing it. Bits are going everywhere. He’s getting a laugh from everyone so he’s really going for it now. He’s enjoying the cake more than anyone else here.

1.18pm – One of the waitresses has come over quite cranky about the mess. She’s says she’s going to bring back a dust pan a broom for us to clean it up. There is fury in her eyes and infanticide in her heart. If looks could kill I’d be staked out in the Simpson Desert.

1.19pm – Heh. I think I’m one of those parents they talk about on A Current Affair.

1.21pm – Some guy has come to clean up the mess. He’s apologetic, and I think he talked her down. I suppose I should thank him for retaining my testicles.

1.58pm – I love drunk aunts. Stumbling. Cracking on to groomsmen half their age. Leaning forward, grabbing their chest and saying ‘show us your tits’ while in professional photos. That’s what dreams are made of.

2.06pm – Just found out the aunt is also the hairdresser for the bride and bridesmaids. She had a bottle and a half of wine before she started grabbing sharpened metal (scissors) and hacking at their heads. Fantastic.

2.10pm – I’ve just realised; I don’t seem to be drunk enough for this. I haven’t had my hand off a beer but still I feel fine. My stomach is so full of liquid, but it can’t seem to handle what I require of it. Everyone else seems plastered. What’s wrong with me? I’m fighting a losing battle.

2.24pm – What’s the opposite of mutton dressed as lamb, because I’m seeing it.

2.44pm – It’s so damn hot. I’m not moving from my table. Mission over. I don’t want to meet anyone new. This daytime wedding reception thing is weird. I’m not as drunk as I should be considering the amount I’ve had. I can’t explain it.

2.53pm – Jailbait! That’s the word.

3.12pm – Every time I see that waitress she looks like she’s going to stab me. I think she’d appreciate it if I asked her to take off her pants… Her grumpy pants! That’ll win her back.

3.32pm – I haven’t seen my son in hours. I suppose I should be worried. Two year olds can look after themselves right? I might start looking for him. I can see a fair from my chair. *drinks his beer*.

3.34pm – Wait. There he is with his cousin. I’ll call off the search party. *continues to drink his beer*.

3.42pm – The aunt has foisted herself onto the groom’s brother. He looks scared. He’s shaking his head. Okay now she’s putting lipstick on his mouth. I’m not sure what’s going on but it dripping with sexuality and potential man rape. You idiot! The lippy is drugged. You’re going to wake up tomorrow morning in her clutches.

3.43pm – Ding, ding. One ticket to crone-sex please. Grab a jar of Vaseline, because you’ll be up to your groin in sinew and bone.

4.00pm – And that’s it. We’re being kicked out. It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon. I’m tired, I’m hot, I’m only half cut and I have a waitress who I think is about to follow me into the carpark and knife me. What a bizarre way to spend the afternoon.

4.01pm – Casino anyone?

Piefesta: Will it Blend?

Wednesday, 9th February 2011.

A day which started like any other, but by the end of the day it would be remembered by many for the rest of their lives.

The Eating Club proudly presents the first ever Eating Club Event: “Piefesta!”

Piesta

Background – A love of pie

One lazy Sunday afternoon, a bet was made. Details are sketchy, time had obscured the exact circumstances of its creation, but when finally the words were spoken they hung in the air and all around them went people went quiet with anticipation.

It was simple. Would a Piefection pie, without any additional assistance of lubricants, blend into something resembling a beverage? (Sorry for those of you who threw up reading that).
Continue reading

Sauce of all knowledge

This food related blog is proudly supported by ‘The Eating Club’ – where all eating is good eating.

Recently I’ve discovered my fellow olililolians have all developed a strong love, nay lust for hollandaise sauce.

I want to blame it on some new wanky trend or stupid fad diet, but after flicking Stu’s Woman’s Day I found nothing to support the theory. It’s like they’ve all signed up to some sort of collective conciousness which suddenly said hollandaise all the way(s).

I love condiments. They’re sometimes the best part of a meal. But hollandaise? It’s so mediocre. It’s like taking a creamy ride on the bland bus. It’s the beige of sauces. In the words of the retards from ‘My kitchen rules and is full of pretentious dickheads’ it’s pedestrian.

So solely for my own amusement I present to you, in no particular order:

Twenty Better Sauces than Hollandaise
- because I got bored before I could think of twenty.

Tomato

Tomato is an obvious starting point to this delicious list. Sure it’s a little plain and simple, but Australian tomato sauce has an excessive amount of sugar added to it and that will endear it to me, and my future diabetes, forever.

Aioli

I feel things about aioli I don’t for other inanimate objects. A yearning. If suddenly laws were changed and I had to marry a sauce, aioli would be up there. Or at the very least I’d cheat on my sauce-bride with it, and have little sauce babies, and I wouldn’t even feel guilty as I knew my faithful sauce wife was at home making me dinner as I gorged myself on another. I better stop now. I’m getting hungry… and sexually confused.

Redcurrant Jelly

Berries in sauce form. I think this is meant to be for roast meat (which it’s great on), but something this good can go on anything.

Lancashire Relish

Like Worstershite sauce? This is better and from northern England, a place with amusing accents. Accented sauce is the best kind of sauce.

Sweet Chilli

I wasn’t sold on sweet chilli sauce for a long time. I would have put it in the same boat, but closer to the life rafts, as hollandaise; HMAS Dull. But I’ve swung around and booked it a seat on the P&O Fairstar, the fun ship. I’ll now gladly skull a bottle with potato wedges, or just as a laxative.

Soy

Essential in Asian food. I love Asian food therefore I must love soy sauce.

Brown

A staple in Britain, this tangy little number looks a lot like barbecue sauce but is more appley and oniony (both cheffery terms).

Lingon Berry

I only discovered this only a month ago and already it’s made my list! Take that hollandaise! Go do some decriminalised drugs you dyke loving bastard!

Gravy

Collecting the fat from a roasting piece of meat, adding flour and herbs then serving it up as a prized part of a meal? Only our poor-as-dirt, cold-climate ancestors who used every piece of an animal and needed the bulk to make it through the harsh winters could have thought this up; and I’m glad they did. Sure gravy’s probably responsible for as many heart attacks as whole chains of take-a-way shops, but it’s so versatile. Awesome on roast. Awesome on chips. Bang. Two staples of a healthy diet covered… in greasy goodness.

Dill

Dill improves anything so it’s no surpise that it makes one of the sexiest damn sauces you can create at home. Some mustard, some sour cream, some lemon juice, some dill. Explosions! Now chuck that sucker on something, anything and throw it down your gob. Feel better? I thought as much. You can thank me later.

Guacamole

Avocado + sour cream. Need I say more?

And finally, a champion that needs no introduction despite the fact I am obviously giving it one now, the winner of the ‘Best sauce in the world competition as voted by science’ –

Barbecue

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Creating this whole damn list to bag out a ‘boring’ sauce just to then say plain old barbecue sauce is the best.

Well I don’t care.

Though I may eat around and break my poor barbie’s heart, at the end of the day there’s no place I’d rather be then snuggled up next to a bottle of her, gently pouring her on to a sausage roll or a rissole. We’ve been through some stuff together her and I, and when the going gets tough nothing washes away the heart ache and the pain like the erotic delights of her dancing across my tongue.

Sure she’s a bastard child – just a mix of tomato and worstershire sauces – but I love her all the same.

Now excuse me, we’d like some time alone.

Flashing Past

I don’t mean to sound like an old fuddy-duddy here (and yet I just used the term “fuddy-duddy”) but I feel like the pace of technology is getting away from me a bit. Not in the sense that I’m scared or concerned about recent advances, just that I sometimes wonder if we really NEED them.

As an example, I went to the store the other day to buy a flash drive. These are devices that even 5 years ago cost like a thousand dollars and a toe, and you got like 2MB storage space. Nowadays, they come withwhat seems like a gajillion terabytes and in every conceivable casing geeks ever dreamed.

The problem is that sometimes I don’t want a super-awesome thing with several coolio-mod-daddy bells and whistles. Sometimes I want a cheap piece of shit to get the job done.

Which brings me back to me, at a supermarket, trying to buy a cheap-ass flash drive so I can transfer a few files. Like, a video and some word documents. Absolutely nothing fancy. Admittedly, it’s way, WAY more than I would have been able to fit on a floppy disk, but still. I needed, like, a gig at the MOST.

The smallest sized drive the supermarket had was 2 gig, and it cost 30 dollars. Now, again, that’s not a crazy price. But it’s far above what I wanted to pay. Of course, my ideal price would have been “free”, but we live, as my counselor keeps telling me, in a society that has rules, so I get there will be a charge for items. But this is a situation I’m looking to get out of for like, 5 bucks, tops. Instead, I’m buying what ends up being a reasonably major purchase, for something I’ll likely lose in a month because these things are small and I’m messy.

Basically what I’m getting at here is developers are making me peronally uncomfortable and I need them to stop doing that immediately. Thanks guys, I appreciate it.

Going, Going, Gone

As I write this I am surrounded by piles of clothes, papers scattered across the floor, and various other personal items strewn about like I’ve had a fight with them. This is not anything out of the ordinary- my room usually looks like this. However today I have an excuse; I’m in the middle of packing to leave for Europe for a month.

Doyle, Yongas and I have decided to go on a fact-finding mission for olilolo, to see if there are better ways of writing about nonsense. Is it better if you do it with the Collosseum in the background, for example? Does the ancient stone lend your inane rambling a certain weight? “Yes,” people will hopefully think, “this man’s opinions about comic books are strangely compelling.”

We’re going to travel across most of the more famous or “civilised” parts of the continent, before you go too far east and everyone starts seeming REALLY foreign. From the culture and sophistication of London and Paris, to the ancient edifices of Rome, to the wall-to-wall drinking in Munich, we’ll take in the sights and sounds through a variety of electronic devices designed to more accurately record the experience than our own brains.

I find it very interesting the variety of people’s reactions when I told them I was going to Europe for a month. Unbridled celebration was common, which I thought was a bit harsh with me standing right there. A less common but still frequent reaction was snide superiority. “Oh, really? We went to the Maldives for FIVE weeks last month. We try to take every other month off and just GO somewhere. It cleanses the spirit.”

I am not friends with those people any more.

Universally though, people would trot out their horror stories of travelling through foreign lands. The time they missed their train and had to beg a lift across France from a driver who didn’t speak English, or French. The time they tried to go to a public toilet in Italy, only to find they’d run out of toilet paper (and what they thought was a public toilet was actually an indoor drinking fountain). The time they went to Europe and Australia blew up while they were away. I began to suspect several people were embellishing the truth slightly.

Pickpockets also seemed to be high on people’s list of concerns. Judging from the number and emphatic nature of the warnings I received about securing my valuables while overseas, I’ve calculated that a full two fifths of mainland Europe makes a full-time living through the practise. In response I’ve decided the best defence is a good offence, and have vowed to punch anyone who comes within a two metre radius of me directly in the mouth. Sure some innocents might get a fat lip, but it’s a small price to pay for safety.

Having said all that, I did receive some valuable advice. I will record it here for any other potential travellers wishing to learn a few tips and tricks to get you out of a tight spot while abroad.

-Londoners really all do speak like in Mary Poppins, but they’re kind of embarrassed since that film came out, so many hide their natural accent. Try to coax it out of them by speaking in your best Dick van Dyke Cockney.

-Germans consider it a great honour to be slapped right in the face. Just right in it.

-French policemen can be paid to perform menial tasks such as carrying your bags or acting as a footrest

-In Italy, always take off your shoes when entering a shop, and whirl them about by the laces to discourage panhandlers.

-In Europe in general, many people do not speak English, however if you speak English to them slowly and in their own accent, an understanding can be reached.

A couple of valuable tips I’m sure you’ll agree. I look forward to trying them out! I’ll report back on how everything goes. Until next time, Bongiorno Voyage!