Why God?? Why

It seems that Shayne Borland may have a slight issue with understanding the difference between "days" and "months".

We had only been rid of him for four days when it was overheard last night that he is cutting his "summer in Queensland" short because he misses the pub and wants to come back.

In three weeks.

ARGH YOU PROMISED US THREE MONTHS!!!!

A Chicken Suit Would Have Been Better

I was walking up Military Rd past the pub at 8am one weekday morning. No, I wasn't going to the pub, I was going to work. Anyhoo, I suddenly noticed someone dressed in a cow suit stumbling around outside the pub, harassing passers-by on the way to work.

My first thought was "did Uncle Pete pull a cow suit out of the Goodwill box again?", then someone explained to me that this is another (extremely well executed) marketing strategy by the "hole" to advertise their free-steak-with-schooner night (yeah, because when you're eating a piece of meat, you really want to associate it with the animal it came from).

Our friend Lady Goon informs us that while she was waiting at the bus stop one morning, the cow suit person approached a bus window and started banging on it with two hands. Well, if that's not going to get in more paying customers, I don't know what is.

Shayne Borland, The Most Unintentionally Funny Person In The World

In case you couldn’t guess from the above title, I am about to write a rant about a new loser on the scene called Shayne Borland.

Let me start by saying his name isn't really Shayne Borland. I have cleverly disguised it by adding a letter to the first and last name. This is to prevent him Googling himself and finding the site. I won't tell you which letters are added. OK it's the y and the r. Yes, he does have the most bogantastic name ever.

Shayne Borland is the idiot who reckons his father owns the Cremorgue Hotel. Whether or not this is true, let me say I don't especially think it's anything to boast about.

Some other funny points about Shayne Borland:

* He has a rat's tail. Yes, a rat's tail outside of 1989.
* He stands at the door of the pub next to the bouncer handing out pills as people walk in.
* He doesn't smoke but stands on the step in the smoking area, hovering over his minions.
* He wears the same outfit all the time - 3/4 cargo pants and a blue t-shirt. Miss Contradiction and I joke that when he goes to work he still wears the outfit but just puts an elasticised tie over the top.
* Speaking of work, he revealed on Sunday that he quit his job because he prefers to go to the beach in the summer.
* He pulled out the pearler the other day that he and I were apparently a couple for one day. This must have been the day I could talk to him without laughing.

Yes, Shayne Borland truly gives us immense doses of hilarity.

The Lower North Shore Loses Another Craphole Icon

I was walking to work this morning in the freezing cold. Yes I have had the best few months on record. Not. A hose in my car went on Sunday morning so now I'm without transport for a few days.

Anyway I was walking to work through Crows Nest when I noticed that the Stoned Crow has been borded up and apparently reoccupied by the landlord. Everything was a-ok in Stoned Crow land when I was loitering outside on Friday lunchtime. What could possibly have happened to the Stoned Crow? And will the hole be next? One can only hope...

The Hole Is Still A Hole

Last night Miss Contradiction and I ventured back to that embodiment of loose morality, "the hole". I haven't visited the place in months due to the fact that I'm having an intense spiritual crisis and I have to say that my memories of the place started to grow fond in retrospect. It's true what they say, absence DOES make the heart grow fonder.

Unfortunately that sentiment was misplaced as last night the place was crawling with bottom feeders. In fact it seemed like every loser and his dog was out in full force last night. After taking enough drugs to kill a brown cow, as previously mentioned, I still couldn't alter my reality enough to believe that there were fun and interesting people in the place.

I actually met the king of all losers last night. Yesterday afternoon. I was putting on bets and this bogan comes up and starts big noting himself to me. I was all "whatever" and trying to be polite but seriously just wanted to get out of there. Turns out his father owns the place and he is possibly the most spoiled indulgent brat I've ever met. I mean he was so drunk and the bouncers wanted to kick him out. How much of a public nuisance would you have to be if your father owned the pub and the bouncers still wanted to throw you out. He kept invading my personal space and asked me to be his girlfriend and I said "not if you were the last man on earth". What's so hard to understand about "I don't like to be touched, particularly by you?" I even told him he was annoying and he still thought I was his BFF. Now I have a good reason not to go back to the pub for another three months. Gross.

Ahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Looky here what I found on Facebook:



Robbie looks so good in this outfit. I reckon he should wear it all the time.

It almost makes me wish I hadn't been too off my face to go to Robbie's party on Saturday night. This shit alone would have been worth the cover charge.

Roadkill-Throwing Bandit Strikes Again

I wonder if this is the same guy who got kicked out of the hole for chucking a dead possum at the bouncers??

Click

Robbie Is A Loser (But You Already Knew That, Right?)

Earlier this morning I received a Facebook invitation to Robbie’s 25^th birthday, of course to be held at the Sobar.

I immediately declined as I think Robbie is a loser but on further inspection I realised he has invited EVERY SINGLE PERSON ON HIS FACEBOOK PAGE. Yes, all 50 million of them. WTF? Do you really think you’re that popular mate?

A few points:

According to Robbie it’s “all downhill” after 25. And WTF, quarter life crisis? You actually think you’re going to live to 100?? Pfft.

The theme is “school uniform”. Apparently we are supposed to get out our old “ruggers” and “make fools of ourselves”.

He makes me want to punch him in his arrogant face.

Actually on second thoughts maybe I will go just to laugh at him and stalk him.

You can see the details here

Happy Birthday To Meeee

As you may or may not know, this weekend just gone was my birthday weekend. I had been saving myself up to end my one-month drinking ban in a spectacular and embarrassing fashion. After dolling ourselves up in inappropriate formal wear, we headed off to The Loft.

Suffice to say that after not drinking for a month, the alcohol went straight to my head. In fact after only three drinks I was already slurring and making absolutely no sense. Naroomina forced us all to pose for some photos and I complied so that might give you a sense of the level of intoxication I had reached by that stage. For some reason there is also a photo amongst the bunch of an oyster. Well at least I assume it was an oyster. I’m not entirely sure what all that’s about.

Anyway naturally we ended up back at the hole, seeing as they emailed me offering a $50 bar tab for my birthday. $50 my arse. Seriously, all we did was take the bar tab to different bars and we ended up spending over $100 without paying a cent. Goes to show how the hole’s business model needs a bit of fine tuning. Robbie was there for some reason on the door of Sobar. What’s the go with Robbie? Does he work there or something? Or does he just like standing in doorways? I like lurking in doorways but not usually at 2am. Well okay sometimes at 2am.

Anyway Naroomina and I started talking to a couple of blokes in the nightclub. Miss Contradiction had wandered off at this stage to fraternise with some locals. This one bloke who claimed to be some sort of diver (perhaps even a navy clearance diver) was trying to chat up Naroomina so he foisted his wingman off onto me. You know how it is. I hate feeling like the ugly friend who needs to be distracted. Especially on my birthday. Anyway the wingman was quite hot and a personal trainer and obviously willing to take one for the team but for some stupid reason I decided to wander off. For fuck’s sake. How dumb do I want to be?

Anyway Miss Contradiction and I got bored without any losers around we could stalk so we wandered home at around 2am.

The next day we ended up at The Oaks then the hole but I can’t really remember much of it, maybe Miss Contradiction can fill you all in more. I vaguely remember the day involving Uncle Pete and the weird French Canadian Irish bloke.

Oh yeah, and Jason can fire people now.

I told him to listen to his heart.

Sorry if this writing is rather mundane but I am currently in recovery phase and not thinking very clearly.

The end.

Breaking News: I'm Hideous When I'm Drunk

Naroomina and I were lurking around the hole last night blind drunk. And I mean really really drunk. And guess what. We saw the REAL Robbie. And guess what again. He's actually kind of hot. We both agreed. He was stamping wrists on the door at SoBar.

When I saw that he's hot, naturally I had to go up and make an absolute dick of myself. I told him he's on my Facebook page and then told him my name like he was supposed to know me. He looked at me blankly. Probably because he has like 60 million Facebook friends. I have 68. Then my shoe fell off. I said something about his dentist and walked away. Okay I didn't say it, it was more like a slur.

Then I stumbled home and passed out.

P.S. Derek passed away from lung cancer early Friday morning. Hole regulars may know Derek as the middle-aged man in the yellow 2nds World shirt who practically lived at the hole weekdays after work. It's sad. Derek was a sweetie. Bad Smell is devastated as they were very close.

Jason Sucks: Applicants Wanted

As it has now been decided that Jason is no longer funny, he has now lost his job as our verbal punching bag and butt of all jokes.

We need someone new to make fun of and generally obsess over. Any offers?

P.S. I was at the hole last night and can't remember leaving, or getting home, can anyone offer any clues? I vaguely remember ranting at someone about something but for the life of me can't fill in the blanks.

I love a good rant whilst drunk.

An Updated List Of Things That Suck

* Sharing one's bed with another person
* The Megahole
* New Year's Eve
* Bitchy drag queens
* People who think bitchy drag queens are really funny and cool
* Holidays
* Work
* The losers at The Oaks

I am going to run away to Lithuania soon.

Banned From Parraween Street… FOR LIFE!!

After being involved in yet another case of public mischief in Parraween Street on Saturday evening, it appears Miss Contradiction and myself may be banned from the street for life.

Miss Contradiction got wind earlier in the week that there was going to be an invaluable celebrity stalking opportunity on Saturday. Apparently some movie was premiering there or something. The details aren’t important. What is important is that an opportunity presented for us to make a spectacle of ourselves. We seized the opportunity with both hands.

We rocked up there about six, both already plastered. I had been drinking at the new and improved Kirribilli RSL all afternoon and gambling with Kelvs (as a side note, I took fixed odds on Zipping for the Cup tomorrow). Miss Contradiction had apparently been at the hairdressers all afternoon, but still somehow managed to be drunk.

So we stopped in at the BWS to grab some booze to take with us. Miss C insisted on buying some fucking fancy bottle of wine, despite me pointing out the logistics of drinking wine in the middle of the street. Wouldn’t something in individual bottles prove more appropriate for drinking in public? You’d think so. Miss Contradiction instead asked the bottleshop staff if we could have tasting glasses – you know, those little plastic ones. They couldn’t find any so instead presented us with two big, heavy, glass beer mugs that came with some promotion.

We wandered across the street and hung out with some old people, who clearly wanted us to get lost. I am getting tired of typing, so to sum up:

• Miss Contradiction tripped over one of our brand new mugs and smashed it everywhere.
• 80-year-old Kelvs drove past in his car to see what all the fuss was about and we started woohing and cheering like he was a celeb.
  
• There was a cute dog called Oscar who was excited about all the action who we were terrorising.
• I started yelling at Big Brother evictees to “get back in the house, we don’t want you here”.
• When Cate Blanchett arrived, I held up the dog and yelled “Hey Cate, do you want an Oscar”.

Then we pissed off back to the hole and ended up having Absinthe shots and more wine. Not surprisingly, I was passed out by 7.30pm.

Yes, we are very classy people.

Guess Who’s Back?

For all those who guessed Slim Shady, go and stand in the naughty corner. No, we have another bona fide local legend back in our midst: the artist formerly known as Canada (okay, he is still known as that).

An introduction to Canada

It all started surprisingly enough in the country of Canada around 30 years ago, with the birth of a child (also called Canada). Actually he does have another name, but I forget what it is. Oh and also, he may not actually be from Canada as he claims, given that his accent is more like a Cockney bootblack (“shine yer shoes, guv?”) than a Canadian local.

Canada was a Megahole regular for some years before getting himself deported last December. Well he tried to be a regular, but would routinely get ejected every Friday and Saturday night by 10pm. The reason for this is that he has absolutely no control over his demeanour or behaviour when he’s off his face, and would sit slumped in a couch making no effort to hide the fact that he was off his dial.

In fact, Canada fancied himself as something of a small-time dealer. If this was the case, he was certainly the most inept drug dealer I’ve ever met. He would sit in the pub talking about how good his “gear” was at the top of his voice, then launch into a session of aforementioned slumping and gurning, as described above.

So then he got deported last December and had to marry some Western Suburbs slurry in order to be allowed to come back into the country in six months. At Villawood Detention Centre next to the Coke machine, no less. I think he also knocked her up. Also at Villawood Detention Centre next to the Coke machine. But now he’s back!!

Word on the street is that Canada is celebrating his re-entry into Australia with copious amounts of illicit substances. That’s my boy!

Rocket Rod will be most pleased indeed to have his little playmate back.

Any bets on how long until he’s deported again?

Penny Traiton

OK, after a long hiatus, I am back to blogging.

It pains me deeply to admit it, but Thursday nights at the Hole have livened up no end with the addition of the 7ft tall bingo calling drag queen "Penny Traiton".

We are even friends on Facebook.

The best part is when the local losers try to heckle her, she absolutely tears them to shreads with her wonderfully acidic repartee.

In other news, I had 3 alcoholic days this week and I think my body went into shock.

Our Adventures In Jason’s Old Stomping Ground

Did you know that Jason is apparently a ‘Balmain Boy’ at heart? Well this is according to him. He lived there for about six months once and now considers himself a Balmain Boy. He likes the aura of working class-meets-yuppy chic that being a Balmain Boy gives him. Let’s face it Jason, you’re a Liverpool Boy through and through. Stop trying to talk yourself up.

The point of all this is that Miss Contradiction and I decided to have a night out in Balmain on Saturday night. We quite enjoy the suburb from time to time but don’t call ourselves Balmain Girls just because we walked down Darling Street once.

So we went to the Exchange Hotel and decided to be sociable. Miss Contradiction was bumbling around in a drunken haze and crashed a buck’s party. She literally walked through the cordoned off bit and didn’t notice the sign and cordon until I pointed it out. The bucks were funny for a while but then we noticed they were making fun of us so decided to pack it in for the night.

We ended up back at the hole. It was packed. This might sound like a good thing but trust me, it wasn’t. You literally couldn’t throw a glass without hitting someone who was either psychotic, 12 years old or dressed badly. There was one particular car crash who I just couldn’t stop staring at – a blonde piece in a white mini skirt, thigh-high white stockings and some weird pink thing wrapped around her neck or head (can’t quite remember, I was drunk). For starters, without being bitchy, she didn’t have the figure for it (well no one has the figure for a fashion disaster like that, quite frankly), and secondly, even if it WAS a dare or fancy dress you still shouldn’t wear that sort of thing in polite society.

So we migrated upstairs to the erstwhile ‘real man’s room’ (RMR) for a game of pool. After having a groove to the Pointer Sisters’ “Jump (For My Love)” (I seem to remember doing some of my jazz ballet moves circa 1986) we noticed that two blokes had infiltrated the RMR. Long story short, Miss Contradiction ended up pashing someone called Mario and basically told him that he was taking her out for dinner. Poor, poor Mario. It was a tragedy when he ran off. Well, not really because I drank the rest of his drink.

The end.

Percy's - The Place To Be

Miss Contradiction and myself have been looking for a new place to haunt given the extreme crappiness of the hole of late and we may have found it in Percy's, also known as 'the pub opposite St Leonards Park with the bottleshop that we used to buy alcohol at underage'.

We lobbed into Percy's for the Manly v Cowboys game on Saturday night and were impressed by the ratio of men to women. That is, there were approximately 100 men to 5 women. It's obviously the new place to pick up.

After all, the best time to coerce sexy fun times out of most men is after they've been watching sport and all the testosterone is high. Which is what Percy's is all about. So let it be known: Percy's is now the place to be.

The end.

NEWSFLASH: The Hole Hits A New Low

Yes, just as we thought the hole couldn't get anymore desperate and pathetic than it already is, it has managed to sink to a new low.

More details as they come to hand / when I sober up...

I swear to God, the new management / security need to have a giant cucumber put up their arses. Not because it would accomplish anything, but because I would find it incredibly funny.

I am just glad that when you Google Megahole, this site comes up on the first page so everyone can realise how much everyone hates it.

Anyway, back to preparing my muff-grazing skirts to impress hole security (who BTW can't tell a pair of $120 Skechers from a pair of $20 Target strippertastic heels as the majority of the clientele were wearing tonight).

Why would I ever imagine that a man could make a solid fashion call?

P.S. Boycott the hole, you will not see me there again unless I am really drunk and dragged there, I am glad I told the bouncers 'this place gets more pathetic by the day' and stormed off. Becuase it's true.

The Ballad Of Ryan Fugly

Gather around the campfire children because Aunty Bike wants to tell you a tale of caution about a certain 'fugmeister' who used to hang around the Cremorne Hotel called Ryan.

I have not seen him in a while but you may remember him as a certain deformed hobbit-looking bloke who was adept at making the skin of women crawl.

I sent out a group text message to my usual suspects tonight re: Jason's Father's Day present of an apron with boobs and Ryan Fugly had the NERVE to respond in a negative fashion.

When I sober up tomorrow and have hours to fill at work I will divulge full details.

Signing off,
Town Bike.

P.S. I still really need to know who Timmy is

Weekend Wrap-Up

I experienced one of the most annoyingly crapulent nights of my life on Friday. It was my sister’s birthday so we convened at the Vineyard wine bar/restaurant in Crows Nest to celebrate. Don’t ask me what the food was like, I can’t remember and I don’t think I actually ate. What I do remember however is Miss Contradiction falling off her chair in a spectacular fashion onto the pavement on Willoughby Road. Classy, classy stuff. Note to self: find new boyfriend and force him to take me on dinner dates to the Vineyard so I can work out what the food was like because perusing the website today, it looks like it’s pretty damn good.

After that Miss Contradiction stumbled off somewhere drunkenly so I headed to the Stoned Crow with my sister and some of her friends. What the hell has happened to that place? It used to be a grungy dive (and I say that with the utmost affection because I love grungy dives). My dad used to take my mum on dates there 35 years ago and apparently she got so drunk one time she had to be carried out. Now the place is sterile and covered in tiles and looks like any other generic suburban bar.

After that I dropped into the hole solo to see if there was anyone around I could stalk. Unfortunately I didn’t realise how drunk I was and ‘mysteriously’ my nose started to bleed profusely so I made a quick getaway…

… only to find my sister passed out underneath the letterboxes outside my apartment block. Literally passed out. I managed to drag her inside but she headed straight to the bathroom and sat with her head over the toilet for a few minutes. Finally she said she was ok and wanted to go to bed. I put her in my bed and she lay there for approximately a minute before projectile vomiting all over my bed and floor. Needless to say, I spent a thrilling Saturday washing my sheets and cleaning vomit off my carpet.

Saturday night Jason was phone stalking Miss Contradiction and I for some reason but neither of us answered the phone so who knows what he wanted? Jason hates his stalking. Well actually I sent him a message asking if he was related to Jason Voorhees but that’s it, I swear.

Sunday my sister and I went with my father to Aqua Dining at North Sydney pool for Father’s Day. I ate some stuffed zucchini, knocked back half a bottle of Eden Valley chardonnay and ranted about my latest topic du jour, Abe Saffron (I have just finished reading the book Mr Sin) . Turns out my mum and dad had dinner with him in Rose Bay one night. Then my sister drove back to Canberra and I wallowed in a pile of my own crapulence watching Parra smash Brisbane.

The end.

P.S. Who is Timmy? I simply must know it’s killing me