Nice Nice

Hello people of the internets.

First up, my holiday to Europe was pretty awesome. Thank you so much to Pish Posh, Forever Conflicted, and Michael D’Agostino for looking after my blog while I was away. If you haven’t checked them out yet please do so. 

• The Pen Licence - Pish Posh
• Gigs and jokes - Forever Conflicted
• Getting to know me - Michael D'Agostino

During my absence I ran a competition for the best comments on each post to win a copy of my new book, as an added incentive to go back and check out the blog-sitters, I will extend the competition deadline. Check out the three guest posts and my favourite comment on each post will win a copy of “Tales from the Sleepy Dragon” containing a short story written by me.

The GF and I stopped over in Nice on our way to Italy. Nice is one of the larger cities in France, has a population well over 7 and lives on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. It has busy shopping districts full of big brands, counterfeit big brands, and a fusion style cuisine influenced by it being a gateway to every country the Mediterranean Sea touches. Nice has sister cities all over the world, that it displays proudly on its chest, namely Edinburgh in Scotland, Huston in Texas, Miami in Florida and Cape Town in South Africa. If any of these sister cities has daughter cities let Nice know because they would like a nice niece city of Nice.

Not an attraction of Nice

Have you ever ventured to a location expecting awesome but met with mediocrity? Then Welcome to Nice. It is a beautiful city, full of old buildings and history, but this is Europe where every city is full of old buildings and history. To stand out, you are going to have to take it up a notch. Nice has a reputation of being warm, beachy, social, drunk, and a biscuit.

It is home to a stretch of beach full of men and women wearing fewer clothes than their age agrees with, and if this was Australia all of them would have died from skin cancer. Our sun doesn't mess around. It punches through the ozone here.

But that is where the problems started. Australia has nothing but coastline, and it is not unusual in the country to find a truly deserted beach where you are the only people within cooee (yes that’s a thing). You are however statistically unlikely to see a topless sun bather on our beaches, but you are likely to have sand. And I think sand is important in a beach scenario and would be one of the top two ingredients.

The concierge at the hotel recommended the beach, so both the GF and I had high expectations. We walked the intoxicating streets of Nice towards the coast. Days of travelling and trains was starting to get to us, and a dip in the ocean was on the cards.

All right, let’s get started on that sand castle

Alas, the people of Nice need to raise their expectations of what constitutes a "nice beach". I like to have sand to lie on. The only sand on the main beach of Nice, was formed into tight, hard groups millions of years ago, something I think all geologist would agree, are known as rocks. The only sand about the place was in a patch near a bar, and you needed to rent it, and there is no way I can justify renting sand. The world is full of it for crying out loud! Why would you pay for something that is free everywhere else?

Sand castles are just going to have to wait, I guess I'm going to have to look at all these real castles.



What's something someone has tried to sell you that is generally free?

Getting to know me - Michael D'Agostino

One more to go Internet people! To wrap things up for this guest post series is none other than Michael D'Agostino. He is a brother comic, has more twitter followers than me, and I saw him do a Bane impersonation on stage the other week. He is the all singing, all dancing, all removing of clothes. You love him, I love him, so click hard on the link of Michael D'Ag-os-tino!

Hi I'm Michael. For those who haven't heard of me, I'm a fellow stand-up comedian of Rusty's. I have a lot of interests and hobbies and a lot of interesting things seem to happen to me. I've started referring to these random moments as "Michael Moments". Here are some examples of past Michael Moments I've been through...

I walked into church last Sunday and walked out with a new ice-crushing machine. Why? How? I don't know, I just looked down and realised I was carrying it.

I stumbled into work at KFC one day, dropped a big heavy cardboard box on the office table and collapsed into a chair. My manager asked me what was in it, and I said '2000 flyers for the DVD release of Abduction starring Taylor Lautner. I've been carrying it up Greenhill Rd for an hour.'

I had some free tickets to a football game that I couldn't go to, so I spent half an hour trying to hawk them in front of the stadium. By the time I left, I had twice as many tickets as what I started with. Still all free.

I got paid $125 to dress up in bright white overalls and pretend to clean a lady's house in front of T.V. cameras. After we were done, the real cleaning ladies came in and cleaned her house from top to bottom.

I got paid $80 a shift to dress up like a penguin and entertain kids for the release of Happy Feet 2 last Christmas season. I didn't seek the opportunity, they found me and approached me out of the blue. The last night of the campaign, my bosses invited me back to their hotel and we spent the night in the pool and spa. Just so we're clear, they were girls.

I may have the record for the person who's taken his clothes off in front of the most people without getting paid for it.

During the writing of this post, I got my voice recorded for a commercial for a radio station. Again, I didn't ask for it, it just happened.

Sean Craig Murphy, one of the country's most successful radio announcers, told me he'd found my blog and loved it.

I once bugged international best-selling author Matthew Reilly into lending me $20.

I got a free professional photo shoot with Studio 2000. Afterwards they gave me a little mini-album with about 50 photos worth $880. As I was driving home, I realised that album was the most expensive thing in my car at that moment.

Now you know me just that little bit better.

Thank Michael, it seems that a lot of people pay you to dress like things, but it only cost $10 to see you strip on stage. I shall return next week to announce the winners of my (used to be) new book. Remember if you want a shot of getting one for free, just post a comment on any of the guest posts featuring not me. 

Gigs and jokes - Forever Conflicted

Welcome to the second instalment of my holiday guest post series. This week we have Forever Conflicted from the blog Can't Sleep. This guy is someone Michael and I both know from the Adelaide comedy scene who went on hiatus for some time. I talked him into blogging earlier in the year and I'm glad he took it up. So give up the loving that the blogosphere is famous for and set your status to follow for Forever Conflicted.

Those who know me will know that I find it difficult at times to accept compliments and almost all forms of praise. I freely admit I can be harsh on myself at times and I’m pretty sure it some sort of self defence mechanism. Despite all of this, there is one thing I can’t deny. There is one thing that I can’t block out and no matter how hard I may try, I can’t forget it. What is that thing you ask? It is the sense of belonging and pride you get when an audience laughs at a joke you tell.

I still remember to this day my very first gig, at the amazing Rhino Room (much love!!). I had the most support I have ever had at any gig and the emotions were going crazy. I had rehearsed my material a thousand times and when it was my turn to finally get up on stage my heart felt like it might be ripped out of my chest. During the 5 or so minutes I just flew through my material and each time I got a laugh it was a little shock and humbling all at the same time. I rode the energy of the crowd all the way to the finish line and it wasn’t until I had finished that I realised just how much of a blur the whole thing was.

From the moment I said my last goodbyes, I felt amazing proud of what I had just done. This was something I had always wanted to do and I had just done it. I took a ‘risk’ and it paid off…I still remember all the congratulations from everyone who was there to support me, I still remember the incredible natural high that I rode for a few days, if not weeks afterwards. It sparked a thirst, a drive to give comedy a crack and even though my comedy ‘career’ hasn’t hit any great heights as of yet, I will always have that memory. Every time I think of that memory it reignites the passion to keep writing and the determination to eventually succeed in the industry.

In fact, lately I have been writing (comedy) material a lot more and even though I’m not performing at the moment, I think the extra time and patience I am taking will lead to a more professional set the next time I get up on stage. Just recently I had a great afternoon down at my local beach (Glenelg, for those locals playing at home) with my brother and we brainstormed a fair bit of new material. The sun was out, fish n chips were tasty and the laughs flowed. It was a really enjoyable afternoon ^_^.

I had considered giving you all a sneak preview of my upcoming material but I’m considering leaving that as an inspiration to start blogging regularly again. Suffice to say, in Soviet Russia….blog reads you! I shall leave you with this clichéd but totally awesome phrase…

CARPE DIEM!!

PS Thanks Russ for allowing me to post on your legendary blog ^_^
Yours truly,
Forever Conflicted

No thank you Mr Conflicted. Remember people that the one lucky commenter will get a copy of my book "Tales from the Sleeping Dragon". Next week we have a regular visitor to my blog, Michael D'Agostino, to finish up the guest series to bring me home.

The Pen Licence - Pish Posh

Welcome to the first ever guest post on Swinging like a rusty gate. Set your front face to excited because it is by the awesome Pish Posh. I first met Pish Posh through another blog, and clicked through from her comments and got to know her. She drew me a picture for one of my posts once, but I was already hooked. She has a charming, fun, and sincere style that you can't help but enjoy. So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the page Pish Posh.

You know Australians are different. They drive on the wrong side of the road, they get flagrant with their vowels, they’re vague with directions – Walkabout? Outback? Could you be a little more specific please? – they make tear-jerker movies like Red Dog that help me remove my mascara without even trying, and they’ve held certain of my family members hostage for years.  And they have really big spiders. Crikey!
Apparently, they also have something called “pen-licenses.” I learned this when Rusty sent in his stories to our new book collection All Cracked Up. His stories are some of my favorites – sweet, funny, and affectionate.

In “Dogs Cry Out in the Night” for example, he tells the sweet story of his dad masturbating the family pet. Well, not exactly. But sort of. Let’s just say his story includes the line “How many years of school do vets have to do just to wank off dogs?”

Mr. Rusty of Manliness, in “Beards: Holding My Soup since 2003,” he about how manly his face is, or at least its ability to grow hair. In fact, bearded men are so manly because they think about boobs a lot. Because like a chia pet that just keeps on growing, the more a man thinks about breasts the more his testosterone spikes and the more his facial hair grows. So the next time you see a bearded fella, you can be sure he’s thinking about boobies. In fact, some men just grew a beard by reading the word boobies. From the US to Australia, men are thinking about boobs and growing their beards. I’m glad I could help.

One part of this story that you won’t see though is his reference to a pen-license. Because what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about? And I made him take it out. Apparently Australians get pen-licenses because the government is afraid of their rampant vowel usage. And endless letter-writing and graffiti-by-pen. Actually in grammar school, when their handwriting is legible they can get permission to stop using a pencil and begin using a pen. HOLY HELL BALLS!



What if we had licenses for everything like that? I would like my boyfriend to have a license to go to the grocery store. Because 45 minutes to find the salami is too long - and no that is not a euphemism. If it was, 45 minutes of hide the salami would be just fine, if you know what I mean. His problem isn’t hiding it, his problem is finding it. Like the socks he searches the house for, and are, gasp, in his sock drawer. Although if he had to get a license to do the grocery shopping, he would intentionally fail and I’d end up doing the shopping, so nothing would change. This is apparently his scheme on loading the dishwasher.

But how about licenses for other things? I think some people should have a license to dress themselves in the morning. A license for how to behave in public, and a license for how to be a good sibling. But, the most important license of all would be the license to have children. Now before you jump down my throat, y’all know there are people out there who just shouldn’t keep making more of themselves. Smurf Village is full.

But thank god we have pen-licenses. Otherwise, we’d have all these kids running around with permanently bad penmanship. And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the game-changer.

Anyway, so Rusty can grow a beard, used to have a well-satisfied canine, and is on vacation. Show him you love him. Check out our book!

Amazon page for All Cracked Up
Junipaya.com for our publishing company Junipaya Productions
Pish Posh.com for my site if you’d like to debate the value of pen-licenses with me

Grab the code on the sidebar to add our button to your page:

Much Love to Rusty-Fans

Pish Posh

Thanks Pish! By the way my spell checker went nuts with all the missing vowels. Get cracking on the comments for your chance to win a copy of my book. Next week we have a new blogger to the scene

Welcome to October, commence the fun and games

I don’t know about you, but the last few months have been a whirlwind of awesome. I have been part of the new sensation in electronic light reading “All Cracked Up” with some awesome writers, I have done a few gigs that went well and have been booked for more, I'm off to a good start with my Masters, I go on holiday on Wednesday to Europe with the GF, and I have been involved in another publishing adventure that had its launch on Sunday.

Set pants to wet

First up, “All Cracked Up” is a hilarious romp through the mind and lives of some of the best writers on the Internet. It features authors from all walks of life exploring all things from rules for cat owners to high gloss paint protecting your assets against shit happening. Available currently as an eBook  you can purchase here from Amazon. 

Below is a list of the writers liable for literally splitting your sides laughing in All Cracked Up

• Dogs on Drugs
• Mayor Gia
• Whoa! Susannah
• Ken Inatractor
• Leanne Moffat
• One Day I’ll Be That Guy
• Brett Minor
• Working Dan
• Six Finger Monkey
• Mike Young
• Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose
• Misty’s Laws
• Rev Biou
• Creative Devolution
• Gloria
• Pish Posh

Set pants to... fantasy

Want more of me? That shouldn't be a problem, for when I come back from holiday with a few extra kilos there should be more of me to share. But if you were after some more writing, then you can check out “Tales from the Sleeping Dragon”. It is a collection of fantasy short stories from a group of Adelaide writers launched yesterday afternoon. That’s right, I'm very local. Get in early to score a limited edition of the book (as they spelt my name wrong on the cover and will be reprinting soon). My story is about a man who must go against his cultural beliefs to save his people from war.

If you are interested you can purchase the book from Amazon. There is no ebook version at this time, but it is coming soon.

I am going on holiday for a few weeks on Wednesday, but do not despair, I have something awesome for you. I will be hosting a guest blogger series featuring some writers you may already know, plus someone new to the blogging world that I would like you to meet.

Plus as an added incentive to stop by and say hello, I have three copies of “Tales from the Sleeping Dragon” to give away. If you want to score a free copy, just post a funny/engaging/friendly comment on any of the guest posts next week, and I will pick a favourite from each blog.

So please come back over the next few weeks and say hello to my guests, and leave abuse for me. I will after all be reading them from a café in Paris, from the shores of Nice, the walls of Caen Castle, a pizza shop in Rome, or even the mean sewer streets of Venice. That is how I roll.

Cheers,
Rusty

And my axe!

This is a post that has been posted on a different blog before. Now it has an opportunity to be read by more than just spam bots, and so I am submitting it at DudeWrite for Slasher week. Click on the link and explore the free entertainment. What? You don't like free?

My Dad has a strange and unusual hobby. While most dads in my neighbourhood went to the pub to get hammered, my dad spent his time hammering. Dad is a blacksmith, and he makes all sorts of wonderful and useful things. Not many have considered taking up such a pursuit, but most people who find out about it think that it's cool (I understand that I have no authority on what is and what is not cool, but I assure you I have it on good authority).

Such an endeavour has perks. For my 17th birthday Dad made me a rather large medieval/fantasy axe. It was huge. The plan was that if Dad made it heavy enough I couldn't use it when stuffing around with my mates. Parents, it seems, do not like to go home via the emergency ward when they pick their kids up. Spoil sports.

It was a good plan and an awesome present. Leading up to the big day it almost got him shot.

Similar to this, but the head would be bigger
and there was no spike behind it. Also not as lame
and way cooler since my dad made it

I had my provisional licence at the time, meaning I could drive a car without supervision, and I was out driving with my mates. Dad brought the nearly completed axe into the house to show my sister. All that he had left to do was to give it a bit of a clean, polish, and finish the grip on the handle.


My sister was praising my Dad’s craftsmanship, or so he tells me, when a police car pulled up at the front. Dad saw it first, recalled I was out driving and thought the worst and subsequently panicked when the cops started walking up our driveway. With axe in hand my Dad went barrelling out of the front door, and with the voice of a panicked parent yelled, “What are you doing here!?”

If you know my Dad, then you are lucky, but you also know he is a sweet, harmless and humble man. But he is short, stocky and particularly wide at the shoulders from swinging hammers and has no neck (He is bear like, but more Yogi Bear like).

The police did not know him though. They just saw a wide stocky man, holding an axe, and asking what they were doing rather forcefully. So I can understand their concern. The cop closest to the door went white and started backing up, while the cop behind him was reaching for his gun.

Luckily, my sister was not that far behind Dad and had followed him out, she saw what was happening and promptly removed the axe from his hand and took it inside.

Oh how we laughed...

Motivation guaranteed

Social media is riddled with motivation pictures’ clogging up news feeds these days, all with the purpose of making the world fluffy and safe, and to help us as a society to be more than we are. To be honest, most of them give me the shits.



Exhibit A

I like a good humorous quote, but anything sounding like it was originally written for a “gift” magnet, only motivates me as far as aspirin and beer. I don’t know what that says about my own insecurities as a man, or as a human being (men and humans being mutually exclusive sets), but I know I am not perfect and I will never compare to a picture of a basket of puppies with an earnest caption. Or even smell as good. Will reading every single one make me a better person?

If I had to pick a motto my first choice would have to be “if it wasn’t for the last minute, nothing would get done”. It is an unspoken rule of the world. For example, just look at the policy output of governments when they are moving into an election year. Suddenly there are all sorts of spending and policy splurges that would have been wasted midway through the term. Who remembers anything good from two years in? Only Rupert Murdoch, and he only remembers if he likes you.

Doing stuff after the last minute is pointless, so you need that last minute to squeeze out all you can. If it wasn't for that last minute my team would never win, or I would never be able to catch a bus, see the supermarket open, or even get to my job on time.

I understand it is not a saying for everyone. It is in the best interests of an emergency room surgeon to do a little bit more before that last minute. People tend to get nervous when their family member is bleeding out on the table. After sitting on his arse for three years, Michael Phelps three months out from the London Olympics can’t suddenly think “shit, better go for a swim”. He would need to put that bong down a little earlier than that.

The last minute is for optimists living in the present. I am a very much “the present” kind of guy (but more likely a present you would return). I like to enjoy myself in the now, and there is no greater motivation for results than a looming deadline. Eight weeks ago I returned to study in an attempt to gain my Masters. In two weeks I have a major assignment due that is worth 50% of my grade for my current subject. It is no surprise that I haven’t started it yet, jokes are so much more fun to write after all. What do I do instead of writing my assignment? I listen to the advice of a 90’s Australian political satire band called TISM.

Sometime in the next ten thousand years
A comet’s going to wipe out all trace of man
I’m banking on it coming before my end of year exams

Sounds like a good plan as any other, I would be very disappointed if I spent my remaining moments on Earth completing an assignment. The destruction of civilisation as we know is sure grounds for an extension. Right?

What are you putting off right now? And would there be anything I can say to motivate you to do my assignment for me?

Submitting for DudeWrite, ironically early. Who would have thought? Clink on a link and get involved. There is plenty of good reads for you to read out there. All you have to do is follow the links.

Come on Rover, here boy!

Ladies and gentlemen, some time ago we went to bed and woke up in the future.

The world watched on Monday when the worst named Mars rover, Curiosity, did something amazing. If you have not yet seen the footage SPOILER ALERT they made it. With the world watching NASA scientists and engineers dripped sweat over their computer monitors more than they did on their prom dates. To get to Mars it takes a lot of hard work, but this is no time to rest and play. NASA intends to explore Mars for at least 2 years, I imagine so they can get their monies worth.

It only took a matter of minutes for Curiosity to beam back its first pictures from the surface. I saw it unfold streaming the streaming from Mars on NASA TV when I was at work. The 64x64 bit thumbnail crossed millions of kilometres, bounced off a few radio dishes and straight into the brains of millions of people around the world. It impressed me to no end, but I will be making a call to my telecom provider about how a robot from outer-space has a faster upload time then I do. It takes 14 minutes for a signal to reach Earth from Mars, yet how can I not watch YouTube in the elevator on my phone? It won't be on the National Broadband Network any time soon.

The Curiosity Rover is 2.9m long by 2.7m wide and 2.2m high and comes in a 899kg making it the biggest remote control car on Mars to date (it is about the size of the average car). On board they have all sorts of instruments to take samples of the air and soil for anything that could possibly support life, be it minerals in the soil, water, bacteria, chocolate, nugart, and/or caramel. If they find peanuts they are on the wrong planet.

I am happy they made it. Its good to know that with $6 billion NASA can hit Mars in the face with a robot - the SUR-face. I can barely hit the recycling bin at work with scrunched up balls of paper, so even if your target is the size of a planet, it is still at best 55,000,000 kilometres away. If I was to give $6 billion to anyone for robot droids to be sent to alien planets, NASA would be my first choice. To them its only rocket science. Second choice would be to Grover. Only so they could say "the Mars rover Grover". And then when it crashes down a hill they can say "the Mars rover Grover fell Over". But if it never left the Earth because it failed to pass the field tests in Ireland they can say "the Mars rover Grover fell over on clovers". I'm easily entertained

Not on Mars.

An argument won - Flash Fiction

This post I have entered in the DudeWrite Flash (.... a ahh!) fiction competition. The challenge was to write an original short story under 500 words using the first sentence as a prompt.

“If you told me two weeks ago we wouldn’t be having this discussion now,” said Mary.
“No, instead we would’ve had the argument two weeks ago,” replied Darren. Two weeks would not have made a difference, I don’t want to go.
“This is not an argument.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me. I don’t want to go to my stupid reunion, but you want to go and you’re forcing me to do what you want. Sounds like an argument to me,” it’s not a nice thing to say, but she never understands why I hate these things. The idea of going to a high school reunion makes my skin crawl, why would anyone want to go?
“I’m not forcing you Darren.”
“Why are we still having this conversation?”
“Don’t you want to see your old high school friends?”
“Shit no, if I had wanted to see them after all these years do you think I would’ve poked them on Facebook by now”. What a waste of time Facebook is. I only log on when people tag-thingy me in photos.  I think I’ve only done like one or two status updates.
“What about me Darren? Did you think that I might have wanted to go?”
“But it’s my high school reunion”
“I want to meet your old school friends. Your old crushes, old girlfriends?”
“You’ve met Michael”
“Michael wasn’t a crush, wasn’t he?”
“No!”
“Still, I want to meet old girlfriends.”
“It was an all-boys school Mary. There were no girlfriends. It’s just going to be sad with people longing for halcyon days without beer gut and a full head of hair. I don’t want to go because it’s a bunch of knobs trying too hard to be earnest in an attempt to hide the fact that it’s a pissing competition with an open bar.”
“Aren’t you proud of your achievements?”
“I am, but that’s why I have a Facebook page. I can brag about how awesome I am without having to suffer the pain in talking to these people. You think I created a page to see you ‘like’ spam photos because you love your dog? I know you love your dog even though I walk him every day! The good news is that now this is an argument!” She didn’t like that. Mary’s eyes turned cold and continued making the bed. I don’t want to go, it is my reunion and it is my decision. I turned to leave the room; it was time to watch football.
“Are we going to the Clarkson’s still Sunday? Honey?” I didn’t get a response. I turn back to the bedroom to see if she heard me. She heard me, she looked at me so I know she heard me, but she didn’t look happy. “Are we still going Sunday?” I asked again, Mary had dug in for a silent treatment. Sigh.
Looks like I’m going to my reunion after all. One night of hell there or weeks of torture here? Time to hire a Porsche.

Two Ignorant Aussies continues

I know what you are thinking - It is only the 16th of July, how could I be posting already?

As a treat Mr D'Agostino and myself got together and recorded a pod-cast for The Lady in Red over at a bozo's abbozzo... and Jax over at Raviolis & Waterworks and have decided to share it with you all.

You can hear part one and part two on Raviolis & Waterworks and The World As I See It. Or you can download it and have me in your ear any time from http://soundcloud.com/michael-g-dagostino.

It was good fun to record and are talking about doing another one eventually. Let us know what you think because Mike and I do like to hear feedback. If you have things you want to ask, leave comments below or send us an email, a tweet, or even a carrier pigeon.

Suggestions on a title would be appreciated ;)

Cheers,

Rusty

Nutella strikes back

As I was sitting at home licking the Nutella left on my hands after making another jar transparent, I have been overwhelmed with the response that Michael and I have received over Nutellabeing better than peanut butter

What started as a friendly debate apparently involves poking bears. I do not get it, if you have seen Michael in real life, and believe me I have seen more than I would request; he is the least “bear” like man-boy I have ever seen. If anything he would be more teddy bear, and on some days more My Little Pony. Granted “you’ve poked the plush toy” does not strike the fear into the hearts of the Nutella alliance. “Beanie kids for Peanut Butter” has a nice ring to it though. (Note: on reflection this is a little harsh as Michael is by far one of the nicest people I have ever met. Even though I walked straight past, he will stop, open his bag, dig around for his wallet for a few minutes, and then hand over more change than I or the person in need was expecting. Ultimate nice guy, but all is fair in love and Spread wars)

"I say to you, ask not what your sandwich can do for your spread, but what your spread can do for your sandwich"

But this isn’t about Michael’s over compensation for his manliness; this is about Nutella, and to a lesser extent peanut butter. There may appear to be an overwhelming support for peanut butter but the spread has nested itself within the American diet, and asking them to choose between the two is as pointless as asking an Italian if they preferred sauerkraut over pasta. We know that all depended on who was winning World War II at the time. Nutella finds its origins in Europe and there it sees a competitive market share since peanuts are not grown in significant quantities.


I brought up all the flashy figures and articles because we should all know where our food comes from and who is making money from it. Food and Beverage is a major part of every countries economy and these people also fund the campaigns of the people who make the decisions. Does it "subtract in any way from the glorious majesty of the product itself?" No it does not change the taste, but it should still mean something to you. So I do think about what peanut butter has done for society, and since they sponsor media outlets and people like Fox News producers and politicians (who are so right-wing that it even makes the pope uncomfortable) to discredit actual scientists and mislead the public.

"We have nothing to fear except fear and peanut butter if we are allergic"

George Washington Carver did not invent peanut butter, but merely rediscovered it, independently yes. He was beaten by a few hundred years by the Aztecs. This is one of the great misconceptions of history. Be careful what you find on Wikipedia Michael. the biggest lie of them all is that peanuts are not nuts, they are legumes. If you can't trust the name, what can you trust?

"I have nothing to declare except for Nutella and my genius."

Many do not know this but during the pilot episode of ready steady cook the audience would determine the winner for voting team Nutella or team peanut butter. It was a storming success for Team Nutella which won the cook off despite not turning the oven on. Ready Steady Cook was finally re-branded as Tomato Vs Capsicum/Red Pepper when picked up for broadcast due to peanut butter not being a proper noun. When pointed out to the producers that tomato and capsicum/pepper are not proper nouns either they replied, “yes but we do want the other team to have a chance at least. Against Nutella there was nothing peanut butter could do.” May not be true. Even TV producers know better than to put Nutella up against peanut butter at risk of ruining the American economy...

"I wouldn’t want to be a member of a club that would accept me as a member who prefers peanut butter"

I have seen many people vouch for the joining of the two spreads – a racial harmony of sandwiches. People shout out at Michael and I on the street “mate, can’t you just put your nuts together?” and they didn't even know we have blogs. The spreads can co-exist, but there is only one Nutella. That is because it exists on a higher plain. It fell from the heavens to anoint and bless all who stain the backs of their hand scraping out the last bits.

"Working is the curse of the drinking class." - Not spread related, but important to note.

50 is the new... wait.... no, 50 is still just 50

The Internet can surely be used
better than this

Today I hit my 50th post. True it has taken me a few years to get here, but slow and steady is something I am not known for anywhere else but in the blogosphere. In the outside world I would be known as "the guy that doesn't stop talking" at work, "the guy from the country that can talk proper" at fencing, the "guy who thinks he knows it all" in my home town, "who's that guy? And why is he talking to me?" at stand-up gigs, "the man who isn't funny" with my girlfriend, "the man who runs ultra marathons" at my gym, but in my running group I am "the guy that can barely keep up".

It seems that I am a lot of things these days.

I am also recently a winner of not one, but two more kreativ blogger awards. One from my partner in crime, as long as the crime is murdering jokes, Michael D'Agostino of The world As I See It and one from Red from Doesn't Speak Klingon.

Normally I would have to answer questions and pass the award onto recipients, but considering I take my sweet arse time in writing posts I seem to be last at the restaurant holding the bill. So I will have to announce great new blogs when I find them. So here is a blog to get you started: Delightfully Ludicrous. I am quite new to this blog but I find her posts interesting and amusing. I don't follow blogs unless they do something for me and I follow this one. Coincidence? (I am not sure Kelie will be using that quote anytime soon for promotional purposes: "I follow this one" - Rusty).

Favourite Song?
It jumps between "Forty Six & 2" or "Lateralus" by Tool depending if I am feeling philosophical or mathematical.

Kreativ to the power of 3... allegedly

What's your favourite dessert?
Crepe with Nutella! Also a big fan of biscuits, but it's not a dessert food as it's any time food, because tea is an any time drink.

What do you do when you are upset?
Frown. I usually do something to distract me in the meantime.

Which is your favourite pet?
I currently have no pets because I rent. It is easier to find places when you have no pets. I love dogs, and I generally love it when my friends have dogs, because then they are like children that are not mine, I can play with them and give them back without having to walk them, feed them, vaccinate them, bath them, ...

White Bread or Wholemeal?
If I am having vegemite, then you have got to rock the white bread. Any situation requiring more flair than a standard loaf should be a white bread in my opinion. Everyday sandwich, go the wholemeal, unless you are celiac. Then go with the rice crackers.

Bread is a moot point for Nutella; it doesn't matter what bread you use, because bread is merely the vessel for chocolaty goodness.

What's your biggest fear?
Never being good enough and being a disappointment

What's your attitude most of the time?
It depends on how many people sign up for Nutella over peanut butter, which isn't going well so far. I would like to think happy, but I am at work at the moment so it could be anything...

10 Random facts.
01. I grew up in country South Australia, but I was born in country New South Wales. 
10. I like using binary to cheat.

So after 50 what is next? 51, but there are other projects on the way. I have been asked to submit a short story for a South Australian writing group putting together an anthology, more stand up when I can get these new jokes right (or I throw them out entirely and start again), I am starting a Masters in Project Management in two weeks, full marathon in August, and new and exciting projects with Michael to be released soon, so watch our blogs (and there are a few more blogs coming a long for the ride) for details.

And to celebrate my milestone I am announcing my ascention into more time wasting opportunities, because lets face it, what is the point of having time you are not allowed to waste it?

"Stop stalling give us the announcement!"

Fine, I have decided to joining the swelling ranks of twitter.

Tweet this.

So release the twitters! I have decided to take the plunge into that great time waster of them all, if you wish to follow me you can catch my antics at @RustyHartup


If you have twitter, and you are reading this, then you qualify to being followed so leave it for me to start stalking (not an actual stalk).

I was hoping to post another stand up clip to celebrate 50. I have been working on new stuff, but the jokes are not ready yet to be released into the blogosphere.


But thank you very much for all of you who stop by here time to time, and I hope we can spend many evenings, lunchtimes, or just when the boss isn't looking, what ever the time of day, together.


Cheers,


Rusty

Winter coat of our discontent

The one thing I hate about the winter is getting a haircut because now my ears are cold. The bald patch growing out back has stayed the same temperature but my ears are cold. It is nothing a hat cannot fix, but a sheep does not wear a jumper. Winter is coming. Winter is coming, and I have cold ears. 

Okay I may have been watching too much Game of Thrones; actually winter is already here in the southern hemisphere. The days are gloomy, the nights are cold, and the worst thing is that there is no snow to justify the shivering.  Even without snow, after a point cold is cold and the number doesn’t matter. It’s just cold. 

I generally don’t feel the cold too much. I’m too busy metabolising food like a mad man and I had a mop of a hair style for extra insulation on top. That is all gone now, not gone as in I shaved my head, if anything I got a more fashionable haircut than I have had in a long time. And by long time I mean at least 8 years. When I left the barber’s last Saturday I was welcomed outside by a gust of cold air right in the front face. Icicles were forming on my lobes. 

Hello, Ladies...

I should say almost fashionable because I am slowly but surely starting to bald and that will never be "in", andI have curly hair. And curly hair will never be "in" for anyone over the age of 6. Despite what the expression expresses, curls do not get the girls. When has a women ever described a man as “hot” solely by their hair alone? Jack Osborne has curly hair, and I don't think he's beating the ladies off with a stick. 

(Insert beating stick joke)

(Insert “insert beating stick joke”) 

If I can offer any advice, it would be that Nutella is better than peanut butter (isn't that right Mr. D'Agostino? You know it is true not just better in taste, but also more righteous) and when combined they make a great sandwich, but my word of caution would be that you should never get a haircut when you are hung-over. 

There are rules against obtaining tattoos when under the influence of alcohol, but I would like to see them extended to the morning after. Because when the man is running that comb through your hair and he finds a tangle you just want him to die a slow and painful death just like you. I was in that situation on the weekend and I wasn't in the best of health when I sat in the barber’s chair; I winced at the cool mist of water wetting my hair, the sound of the scissors echoed deep in my ears, and my temples throbbed as that damned clipper slid over my skin like someone trying to make a Slip ‘n’ Slide on concrete. I wasn't having a good time, I just wanted the bad man to stop. The barber could have just shaved a strip down my head and cut some lines into my eyebrows, and when he would pull the mirror out to show me the back for the "what do you think?", I would already be standing at the counter ready to pay. 

Luckily it turned out to be a girlfriend approved haircut, but it could have been much worse. Remember kids if you're drinking, don't get your haircut. 

This has been a health and safety announcement... I think