I hate doing push ups. When I do push ups I have to go until my breaking point to get the result I want – feeling good for the rest of the day. Shrouded in pain I traverse 20 and 30, ensuring they are all top quality while my mind plays tricks on me, telling me I am more tired than last time and won’t reach my goal of 40. But like I said the pay off is good and it provides discipline. But it’s not 40 every day. The next day it’s 41 then 42, 43, 45, 50, 60! It means, now I have to endure the hatred for longer and longer. Does it end? Usually I slack off and my limit regresses back to 40 but what if I never give up? I feel like I’m pushing up into a black hole; or maybe pushing myself out of one…I see myself one day thinking Push up time! and an hour later I cry out “1000!” and collapse.
Fan rant – Fan rants
Fan rant or Franting or fanting (sounds kinda like farting (reads like it anyway…)…) is a new wave of writing style! The idea is if you are a big enough fan of something, and too lazy to write a detailed essay about how much you love it, you can just write about it as fast as possible. A typical frant will be one block paragraph with difficult to decipher changes in tone and context. Here is an example. The more you are a fan of something the more you can write about it and the better your writing will be. I’m not a huge fan of franting though cos I run out of things to say. Oh yeah, errors aren’t so bad cos you got an excuse. Check the Lance Armstrong mistake in the link. Don’t reread your frant until after posting and don’t edit.
Shit don stink
Does shit stink solely because it is our waste? Like no matter what smell shit turned out to smell like, we would always assume it, well, smells like shit. I mean, what if you travelled to some parallel universe and shit smelt like fresh baked cookies. Due to the rigours of universe jumping you find that you’re starving but then something catches your nose. You follow the scent, growing more and more excited as the images of peanut butter choc-chip and anzac and double white choc macadamia fill your head. Approaching a corner you know you are close; your heart beats faster and stomach rumbles in anticipation. You race around and see some pasty heroin junkie; he squats pants down, blood trickling out of the meth sores on his spread out butt cheeks as he unloads a sloppy spray of diarrhoea on a park bench. I think that would be the last time you ate cookies.
Theories on efficiency – In The Car
In this day and age of rising fuel costs it is important we are efficient in the car. When descending a hill that instantly gives way to another hill that you have to climb, avoid using the brakes so that the momentum gained from the descent can be used to easily go back up, even if you go over the speed limit. It will definitely save you around 3-4 litres a year of fuel. That is a saving of anywhere from $3.45 to $5.20.
Avoid using your blinker when nobody is around or if it is super obvious that you are going to turn anyway. You don’t want to be over indicatory and wind up having to change the light bulb. Have you ever had to change one of those? Do you know how much that costs? No seriously, do you? Cos I got no idea…$20? 30? I mean you got like 6 different blinkers…
Always register your car. Nothing can be gained by driving an unregistered car. However, an accident while driving an unregistered car could result in anything from $5000 to a criminal record and thoughts of suicide.
Hope this has been helpful.
Rant – Fan rant or “Franting”
A rant is a negative thing, as you will see in this short outburst. If you do not adhere to this simple rule of thumb you aren’t ranting. And so we begin...Franting?! What the fuck kind of name is that? You sound like a school girl describing some 23 year old creep who she just met. Oh, he promised me that he is going to like marry me and make me like super happy for evarrr!!!! Guess what, sweet cheeks? He just wants to cum on your still maturing chest cos he gets off on 13 year olds. Not gonna end well if you stick with him. A rant is art. It is a freedom of expression structured by its undeniable precision. It has purpose and passion; it is delivered like a jolt. It is a punch in the face, but not from some computer nerd named Jessup who has a callous on his finger from playing too much Warcraft. It’s from Mike Tyson. 1993 Mike Tyson. A rant flows like poetry between imagery and wit. Not like sewerage spewed from convoluted half thought to poorly researched reference point. You are a moron you franting cunt.
Happy Birthday Beatles On The Moon!