A new study out of Australia’s centre for higher order thinking, DrunkenSober Community College, has found that there is a scientific reason why your plates and cups need to match. It’s not a cerebral reason, nor is it due to the optics involved, rather it dates back to our most primal prehistoric impulses – an aversion to pain.
Associate Professor Maffew Sheargold (pictured) has just finished an entirely worthwhile 12-month government funded study which found that the reason why crockery sets have to match comes down to ones base desire not to be punched by ones missus.
“Me study found that blokes don’t give a toss what they eat off of, or if it matches. However, once you throw a wife into the mix and try and pull that shit – you’re getting a punch in the arm straight up,” said A.P. Maffew.
The study involved 30 couples being sent to K Mart with the males given clear instructions to try and buy mismatching plates and cups. In all 30 cases, every single male was punched in the arm, with one bloke also coping a slap across the back of the head for good measure.
“Blokes got hit every single time. We also found that the more horrendous the mismatch, the harder the blokes got punched,” said A.P. Maffew.
So if you wish to avoid pain, make sure your crockery sets match fellas, because science says so.
Once spoken of as a future great rugby league player, by both himself AND his mum, Needsa Notherjob (23) got the chance to relive his peak form when he walked onto the front oval of his local Primary School to do playground duty as a Prac teacher. It was five minutes to bell time when a group of Year 4 students asked him to join in a friendly game of touch and his competitive streak took over.
Hitting up on the first set of six, Needsa was able to dodge multiple 8-year-olds and score the first try, screaming, “In your face,” at the nearest kid who was stunned at the outburst. Kicking off to the opposition, the other teams best player made the entire length of the field before Needsa’s instincts kicked in and he hit a game saving tackle as the bell went and his side won 4-0.
“Mate, he went down like a bag of sh*t,” said Needsa to the Principal in his office after the game. “He should stick to handball.”
Explaining slowly that the kid was eight, and that he was a grown man, Needsa slowly realised he may have gone too hard on the poor kid who was now in sick bay. Reflecting on the day he had, Needsa remained upbeat.
“A good day all-in-all. Scored a try, stopped the tackle to win the game and got sent home early. Best of all, the Principal just called and said no need to come in tomorrow so I have the day off. Sweet!”
At some point tomorrow it may dawn on Needsa that he’s out of a job, but for now he’s too busy enjoying the high of being the best player on the field once more.
Standing at the luggage carousel at Sydney’s airport, Jett Starr has just returned from a fortnightly flight for work from Cairns. As Jett waits for the carousel to start, he silently wishes to the universe that his bag will come out first. As the carousel begins to move, three black bags immediately appear when Jett suddenly realises for the thousandth time that he really should pick a different coloured bag.
After 20 bags have passed him by, 19 of which are black, Jett has no clue which one is his and is now pissed off because he’s gunna have to wait right till the end and rely on everyone else to know which was is theirs and which one is his.
Seeing a bag he thinks is his, Jett steps forward only to be cut off by another passenger who is adamant it is theirs by the way they confidently stride towards it. After 20 solid minutes of waiting, and over 150 bags have been distributed, one pink Barbie bag and one black bag remain before Jett is confident which one is his.
Picking up his bag, Jett curses to himself that this will never happen again and that he’s going to buy a bright red one from now on to make sure this never happens again.
Walking past three luggage shops on the way out the airport, all with bright red bags for sale, Jett hurries off to the taxi tank where thoughts of his bag problem fade from his mind. Until the 1,002nd time this happens in a fortnight and Jett tells himself once again that he really needs a different colour bag.
A common trend of these past few years is large gatherings of environmental protesters marching with placards about how awful plastics and paper are. And a second common trend of these past few years is large gatherings of environmental protestors leaving massive piles of plastics and paper rubbish strewn all over the ground. It’s for this reason that a call has been made to help the environment by banning environmental protests.
Logical rational human being, Con Ensense (37), has come up with a bold initiative to help reduce litter by 400% by stopping these protestors from organising marches. If this happens, says Con, we can have an immediate positive impact on the environment – the very thing these protestors are claiming to want.
“Think about it. If they don’t march, there won’t be giant piles of rubbish left in the middle of parks and streets. This then won’t attract wildlife who can choke on the refuse and it won’t be washed down a nearby drain so it’s good for the rivers and oceans,” said Con.
Con reached out to a local environmental group to discuss his foolproof plan to help reduce littering, but was unable to decipher the autistic screeching on the other end of the phone. Thinking nothing of it, Con was not overly surprised to find a march organised outside his house an hour later (or so he was told as Con was actually at work unlike the protestors). It was not until he got home and saw the massive piles of litter that he knew protestors had been there.
At present it does not seem like Con’s idea was well received and he is going back to the drawing board for ideas on how to reduce litter, right after he cleans up the two tonnes of rubbish left by environmentalists.
Walking out the front of his house last Tuesday, Central Queensland Man – Con Fused (24) – saw a sight he couldn’t quite believe. A man was riding his horse through Calliope – not an uncommon occurrence – only this time the rider was also walking a dog. Stopping to stare, Con couldn’t quite figure out how to frame the event.
“I’m not sure if that’s brilliant or just bone lazy,” said onlooker, Con Fused (24). “You see people riding horses along the footpath all the time out here. So much so, the Macca’s drive thru has a sign insisting that customer have to be in a vehicle to be served, a direct result of a woman trying her luck at the drive thru window on horseback.”
As the rider went about walking his dog, Con followed along with his eyes eventually coming to the conclusion that it was in fact a genius move.
“Two birds with one stone and all that,” said Con. “I take my hat off, it really was a top example of multitasking. Like driving your ride on mower down to the bottlo, something you also see a lot of around here.”
While walking the dog from horseback might not take off as the next big trend in the pet world, the horse/dog/owner were all happy that day and that’s all that matters – even if it was downright bone lazy.
With the first book of the ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ series by George R. R. Martin being released in 1996, fans are still waiting for the last two books to be completed. Considering Martin is now the worlds leading expert on procrastination, chances are identical to his current body shape i.e. fat.
Which is the opposite of the problem that the TV show fans have, as the producers rushed the series which resulted in a rather unsatisfying conclusion for a large portion of viewers. All in all this has left fans of the series a trifle miffed, as they cannot seem to catch a break. Like long-time fan of the series, Her Majesty the Queen.
“I’m so sick of this prick,” said Queen Elizabeth II. “First he killed off Robb, then Hodor, and now he won’t finish the books. I’ve a good mind to send Mi6 over to attach some electrodes to his gonads. If only he looked at his typewriter the same way he looks at donuts, the fat bastard.”
Considering Martin has a number of shiny objects to distract him at present – a prequel of the TV show that most fans were mad at being the main one – it appears GOT fans are simply shit out of luck and have to wait for an out-of-shape elderly man with a sedentary lifestyle to live long enough to finish two more books.
“I bet he dies first eating a bucket of KFC. This does suck donkeys balls,” huffed Queen Elizabeth II.
Father of a newborn, Terry Wellington (35), has experienced his first children’s birthday party and is somewhat concerned with the outcome. Made to attend by his wife, Kate (35), Terry was informed in no-uncertain terms that he is expected to attend all children’s birthday parties from here on out so that parents will turn up when it is time for their child’s party. Only problem is, with 30+ women at the party, Terry couldn’t help notice there were only three other dads there.
“I shot straight for the corner where the dads were sneaking a few beers in when the wives weren’t looking,” said Terry. “They embraced me as one of their own, but pointed out that they’re the only three dads who turn up – ever.”
Wondering how 90% of the other dad’s got away with not attending, Terry found at least half do shift work, another 30% were separated, while the rest were just out-and-out deadbeats who didn’t give a toss. Slightly intimidated by the new experience, the other dad’s took Terry under their wing and guided him straight to the barbeque.
“Greg taught me it’s important to look busy right away otherwise the wives find things for you to do and or/shoot you dirty looks,” said Terry. “John showed me this neat trick where they hide their empties to make it look like they’re only ever on their first beer. And Chris invited me to join their kids party dad’s chat group so I did. It’s made up of those three dads and over 27 who’ve left the conversation,” said Terry.
For now, Terry’s first kids party wasn’t too bad and he’s semi-looking forward to the next one until his wife told him there’s a party this coming Saturday, followed by two this coming Sunday. Saying farewell to golf and fishing trips for the next 18 years, Terry let out a sigh. “Guess this is my life for the next 18 years then,” he whispered.
“What was that?” asked wife Kate from the next room.
“Nothing, dear,” said Terry quickly. “Kids parties here we come.”
In any big city people often come across a lone individual talking – sometimes yelling – at themselves. When first spotted, the same thought naturally enters people’s heads – what’s the go here? For Melbournite Nick Wildman, he faced this dilemma recently and was still shaken by the chance encounter.
“Yeah I was on my way to work past Flinders Street Station and that’s when this guy appeared talking loudly to himself. He was walking dead at me, so I had to quickly figure out what I was dealing with – was it a business arsehole or a crazy guy? Both present their own set of problems,” said Nick.
If it’s a businessman, Nick explained, you have to prepare to hear a lot of shit-talk about how “Heads will roll” or “Buy/sell” or “Sell/buy.” If it’s a crazy guy, “then you’ve got to figure out the quickest exit in case they lock onto you as the guy who stole their chocolate tricycle or whatever,” said Nick.
“Either way it’s not a pleasant experience, which is why there should be designated spots for these folks. A corner for crazy people and a corner for high-powered business arseholes to speak to other high-powered business arseholes,” said Nick.
Such a plan may sound implausible, but it would help lower the anxiety many of us feel when a lone crazy person approaches talking to themselves. The Government banned smoking in a lot of public places, why not arseholes and crazies?
Young Sid Spanner is pretty good at talking himself up when it comes to his fitness. Whether it be the try he almost scored at touch on Wednesday night, or his prowess in his PE class back in 2011, he reckons he’s the fittest bloke on site. Which is why it came as a bit of a shock this week when his site supervisor made him face a harsh reality, that ‘doin’ a Macca’s run’ doesn’t actually count as exercise.
“Yeah Sid’s always carrying on about how fit he is, often before and after he’s just ducked out to Macca’s for the third time that day,” said supervisor, Phil Mecoffeenow (41). “He was bragging about how good he was back in his PE days, but I had to point out to him that was eight years ago and all you do now is stuff your face with burgers and fries.”
When pressed by Phil as to the last time Sid actually did a proper run, Sid was quick to mention the touch game he played on Wednesday night. Only problem was, Sid was only on the field for five minutes before he needed a rest and a large Caramel Sundae that he felt he earned with his hard won 10m.
Having now learned that Macca’s runs don’t count as exercise, Sid has sworn he is going to get back into shape just as soon he finishes his latest extra-large Big Mac meal for morning tea.