If I had enough food and water, and a computer with the internet (as well as a well-stocked external hard drive), I could probably spend at least a month living in my bed before I got bored or cranky. I love my bed. I realised after many years of sleeping and enjoying it, that it is actually the best activity in the world. Sleep deprivation as torture, makes water boarding, ripping off fingernails and killing one’s family seem like a walk in the park (albeit quite a dangerous and painful park).
THE TE AM: Kelsey Heinrichs, Emily Donohoe, Bette Ward, Charlotte Lynch & Rachael Melmeth WORDS : Pauline Calvar & Jessie Power PHOTOS: Sophie Richards, Adele Reed, Kiah Reading, Ricardo Lozano, Kate Rampling, Joshua White & Norton Fredericks BATS is indepedently published in Brisbane, Australia. contact @ batsmagazine.com www.batsmagazine.com www.facebook.com/batsmagazine
A bed is also the place where people engage in sexual intercourse, because there is enough room in most beds for two people. There is not, however, enough room for a human person and a horse. Don’t even fucking try it, no matter how crazy your fetish is, unless of course you have a huge bed, in which case, go for it. If your friend in bed is a human person, you may be able to convince them to tickle your back. If your relationship with the bed friend is purely non-sexual, do not try to cross this border by mistaking “back” for “cock”. If you actually do mistake the two, well shit, you’ve got a lot to explain. This issue, we’re paying homage to the humble bed. Dreams, sex, nightmares and snuggles. That small rectangle where you spend 50 per cent of your life. Close your eyes and let yourself slide into your subconscious. There’s a whole other world in there, where you can play on the swings without people thinking you’re a pedophile, where you can drink rum and coke without glassing anybody and where your mother has decided to finally stop trying to breastfeed you. Take a trip into your dreams boys and girls, you won’t regret it.
BY CHARLOTTE LYNCH
1. FUCK THE BEEF
2. FAMILY COMES FIRST
// “Eazy I’m still wit you. Fuck the beef nigga, I miss you, and that’s just bein real wit you.”
// “Thinkin’ back on my one-room shack, now my mom pimps a Ac’ with minks on her back.”
Just because they were buddies in N.W.A doesn’t mean everything was peachy. Dre and Eazy-E had some pretty public beef, but apparently it was all a gimmick. Dre knows as well as I do that saying “it was all an elaborate joke” after the fight, is a waste of time. I tried that excuse once in a rape trial many years ago. I still can’t get a blue card. Dre, we all know the truth. You and Eazy were lyrical soul mates, but you let money and power get in the way. We all know you cry by the seaside Dre, so your tears don’t feel so big.
For fuck’s sake, Biggie, how the fuck do you think we got into this global warming mess anyway? When poor people get rich they always spend their money on the most pointless shit. Have you seen 50 Cent’s episode of MTV Cribs? It’s fucked up. The point is, when rappers get money they love spending it on their families, which is cute. But 5 carats in a baby’s ear is fucking ridiculous, Biggie, and it does not make up for the many Christmases and birthdays you spent fucking Lil Kim.
3. BITCHES DEFINITELY AIN’T SHIT // “A bitch is a bitch, but a dogg is a man’s best friend” Ain’t that the truth. Well, not entirely, but let’s not miss the point. I myself have a semi-functioning vagina yet I still consider this a rule to live by. A true playa always stays loyal to his/her friends… because when your weekend poontang crashes your car while you’re at the dentist, it’s the dogg that is at your front door with a 6 pack and a 50 bag.
4. HATERS GON HATE // “Ladies, they pay homage, but haters say Dre fell off. How nigga? My last album was ‘The Chronic’” The truth is, haters will always hate. But as long as ladies are payin’ homage, you really have nothing to worry about.
5. KEEP YOUR EGO A MANAGEABLE SIZE // “It’s not that I’m too big to listen to the rumours, it’s just that I’m too damn big to pay attention to them” Kanye West is a fucking douchebag. It’s sad in a way because most rappers can pull some fucking lame shit, for example Xzibit... whose whole existence is apparently dedicated to being the cunt of my life. If he turned up at my door, ready to pimp my car, I think I would curl into the foetal position and stop breathing until I fell unconscious. But watching Kanye ruin himself is like watching a baby eat another baby. “He doesn’t know any better” you whisper. Regardless, it’s Kanye’s ridiculous ego, which really just soils his whole image. Seriously dude, take it down a notch, I can visibly see that your dick is not that big.
6. MONEY IS AWESOME, BUT IT AIN’T ERR-THANG. // “It’s easy to love me now, but would you love me if I was down and out? Would you still have love for me?” That’s a valid question. And the answer is no, probably not. Isn’t the whole rapping thing about getting a fuck-off big mansion and showing it off on Cribs? How the fuck am I supposed to fill my
fridge with Dr Pepper if you ain’t even gettin’ paid? For fuck’s sake.
7. GUNS ARE ALSO AWESOME, BUT THEY CAN ACTUALLY KILL PEOPLE. // “But all we wanna know is ‘Where the party at?’ And can I bring my gat? If not, I hope I don’t get shot, but I throw my vest on my chest ‘Cause niggaz is a mess” Really, B.I.G? Really? Would you really still go to the party even if circumstances meant that you had to wear a bullet proof vest? Because that really doesn’t sound like a fun party to me. That sounds more like a hostage negotiator on his way to work. Or at the very least a fucking stressful party. In which case I hope you can bring your gun.
8. SNOOP DOGG HAS HUGE NUTS // “She want the nigga with the biggest nuts, and guess what? He is I, and I am him.” Exactly how big are your nuts, Snoop? It’s kind of frightening to wonder. Everything else about Snoop is so fucking legendary that the whole “nigga wit da biggest nutz” thing is probably true. And another thing, are big nuts a status symbol? I guess if you’re Snoop, everything about you is a status symbol, because you’re fucking snoop. Fuck yeah, big nuts.
9. IF YOU DRESS FLY, YOU A FLY MOTHERFUCKER. // “She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk” There’s nothing wrong with spending your money on pretty things. You’ve gotta have a style, Dre knows that, that’s why he rocks his khaki’s with a cuff and a crease. Because he’s a fucking legend. If the opportunity arose, would I have sex with him? Probably, yes. Was that information entirely crucial to this article? No, but I feel a little more comfortable now that it’s out in the open. I would fuck Dre (but I wouldn’t fuck Snoop, don’t even insinuate that you fucking sicko).
10. SMOKE WEED EVERYDAY // “Smoke weed everyday” Alright… you’re the doctor…
BY BETTE WARD
SINCE THE WORD “CONSEQUENCE” WAS INVENTED, MAN HAS CONSISTENTLY, AND SOMETIMES SUCCESSFULLY, AIMED TO GET OUT OF TROUBLE. Though taking a leaf from Bart Simpson and simply muttering “I didn’t do it”, just doesn’t cut it anymore. So if you get done for rape and murder: don’t hire an expensive lawyer; don’t even plead insanity, simply say “I did it in my sleep”. In 2004 it was revealed that an Australian woman had sex with a shitload of different guys over the course of about four years without her having any memory of her nocturnal slutiness. She finally realized this, when one night her husband awoke to find her missing and found her in their house having sex with some dude. Oddly enough, it came as no surprise to the woman who had, for years, found piles of condoms and the phone numbers of various men scattered around her bedroom. There are a variety of different questions that are so, so obvious to this situation. The first and most probably the most apparent is how the motherfucking fuck did she not know she did this after doing it for years? Two, how the hell did she manage to go to a bar and pick up a guy whilst sleeping? Three, and oh so very important is, what kind of dude would have sex with a sleeping chick? That really does have “date rape” written all over it. Obviously I
am unable to answer all these blatantly obvious questions, however this example not only gives a prime of insight into the weird and wonderful of sleep activities, but also shows that some men will have sex with just about anything that is mildly willing. Though this was not the only case of a bit of trouble from the bedroom. Over the last five years, three different British men have been acquitted of rape by citing sleep sex or “sexsomnia” as the cause. So is this a bullshit excuse or debilitating illness? Well that one is for you, and the judicial system of the county in which you reside in, to decide. However, it isn’t just crimes that people commit while sleeping, people do some other really fucked up shit that goes far beyond your casual sleep talking. From sleep cleaning, sleep driving, sleep shopping, sleep ironing, walking pets whilst asleep etc. So the next time you forget to do an assignment, get a parking ticket or casually commit murder, simply say you were snoozing at the time. You could even use the excuse for general day to day life. Accidentally make a racist comment? I was sleeping. Use a bad and awkward pickup line on someone that is way out of your league? I was sleeping. Flash you tits? I was sleeping. It’s the ultimate excuse. Yes you’ll be considered a freak in the eyes of the public, but you’ll make a fortune in the daytime television circuit, maybe you’ll even get a TV movie made about you. So put on your slippers and learn to walk with your eyes closed: it’s time to start sleeping.
I LOVE DREAMS, IN FACT I HAVE SEVERAL BOOKS TO SUPPORT THIS TESTIMONY. BUT IT WAS ONLY RECENTLY THAT I HEARD THE RUMOUR THAT THERE WAS A CERTAIN TEA THAT COULD NOT ONLY GIVE YOU FUCKED UP DREAMS, BUT LUCID ONES AS WELL. The idea that I could control my weird dreams… well, I was more than intrigued; this was my mission for the next few mundane holiday months. So I researched and sort after the said herb; Mugwort.
BY EMILY DONOHOE
The mugwort herb has a rich and colourful history. As well as its medicinal properties, such as; treating colds, flus, worms and cramps ;) , the mugwort herb was used by the ancient Romans, native Americans and many witches for its healing properties, “magical” for sore feet and warding off bad spirits (it’s basically the slut of the flora world). But what I was interested in was its dreaming properties. “We need her gifts of Dreaming to bring us into the Spirit Realm and teach us to live in balance in both the Spirit and the Physical.” - Wtf www.altnature.com. You and I both know that’s pure and utter dribble. The mugwort herb essentially is a form of mild hallucinogenic, stimulating your control in your dreams and the part of your brain that controls memory. But the packet does promise “exciting technicolour dreams and astro travel”, which secretly does make me feel like a seven year old on Christmas Day (after the initial tantrum from the fact your little sister woke you up at 5.30 am to ruin the surprise that your each received bikes from Santa). My plan is to, over the course of a few nights, drink the herb in a tea and record my dreams achieved through this. But first, an explanation on sleep that will make most scientists cry tears of thick red blood. There are several stages of sleep each person will experience while sleeping, cycling a few times per night:
STAGE 1 sleep (n1) is a light sleep, this is the sleep where one may experience sensations or sounds known as hypnagogic hallucinations and random twitches in your skeletal muscles. These are called hypnic jerks and have woken me up on many occasions. STAGE 2 of sleep (n2) is categorised when there is loss of consciousness, and movement of eyes stop plus brain waves become slower with occasional bursts of rapid brain waves. This is also the part of sleep that restores the body (plugging my body into the charger that is lyfe!) Now STAGE 3 (n3) is debatable, as until recently, it was believed that there was a stage 4, but recent studies have proven that there was no differentiation between the two, thus it is named stage 3. In this stage delta waves are produced, slowing the brain activity down; this is the deepest part of your sleep and it’s very difficult to wake from (why I could put my hand down your top and you would be none the wiser). During this stage bed wetting and night walking occurs, and as the classic “liar” of the social group at a sleep over’s claims “I totally sleep talk so dw if I say anything weird tonight in ma sleep :P”
REM SLEEP: much like the beloved band, this is my most favorite part of the night, as this is the stage where dreams come true* (*not actually true). In this
stage the breathing pattern decreases, becoming irregular and shallow. Eye movement is rapid and the muscles of the body are temporally paralysed this may be the body’s natural way to stop one acting one’s dreams (shooting up heroin in your dream, only to grab a Bic pen by your bedside table in real life, getting yourself into a real ink poisoning pickle). You will experience this stage approximately five times a night, each period lengthening in time. With the tea packet in hand and after TV had given me all it could offer for the night, I was off to bed for night one of this experiment. The dream started off at a supposed friend’s Halloween party. It was buzzing and everyone was dressed up for a real scream. My friend later came and she thought it would be a cool idea to cut her own head off and then serve it on a plate. I proclaimed to the matter, but it was too late. She cut her head off and cooked it. Strangely enough her head then resembled a popcorn chicken with a small face on it. Upset and confused, I ran off and then slid down a water pipe where I was then dubbed the Water Spirit Queen and that was that. The second night was slightly more vivid when remembering it the next day. Apparently there was some sort of Government agency that “wanted me” (ha), so I flew off at will. In fact, throughout this whole dream I did basically anything I wanted. I changed form into any animal, though regrettably once into a goldfish in the Brisbane River. It was dirty but I was still rocking it. On the third night, I didn’t drink any of the tea, just to see if the dreams were a result of the tea or my own mind. Of course a dream occurred, but I forgot it before you could say “Kochie and Mel on Sunrise”. Goody Proctor did it, and I soon hoped I would too. The tea packet promised astro travel and as the label suggested, I placed some of the tea under my pillow. Another slightly lucid dream did occur (zombies and a giant octopus that laid eggs and the eggs then turned into humans so we could repopulate the world) but no astro travel. However, an unexpected reaction between my boyfriend’s highly sensitive nose (he lives on Telfast and Telfast lives on him) caused him to have a dream and remember it. A true Christmas miracle that a boy remembered a dream. On the whole, the experiment was mildly successful, giving a few good vivid dreams. However, I was extremely disappointed that my spirit did not leave my body to soar through the skies of Brisbane, searching for wallets long lost.
F//ILM////////////REVIEW If I could ask Dr. Karl Kennedy one thing, it would be: what would happen if you raised several babies of all different ethnicities without talking to them? Would they speak in “baby”? Or make their own language up? Or as Oprah discussed; severely disable them by under developing their brains? I remember in my youth, my mother received a rather unsavoury 40th gift from a colleague. I later asked her (as she was in the process of throwing it in the bin) what the wind-up, walking figure was, and she replied with “A chicken”. The epiphany later kicked in when I was at the age of fourteen: it wasn’t a chicken, it was a wind-up walking dick. Though the children in Yorgos Lanthimos’s film Dogtooth (2009) sadly will never get the realisation of truth in their warped view on life. The film starts with three siblings listening to a recording that discusses different words and explains their meanings. For example “telephone - is the container in which salt is shaken from” and calling a pussy “a big light”. This syllabus of tripe continues throughout the first scene and establishes the situation these children are in; detached from the outside world at the hands of their parents for some unknown reason. The family is situated in a large fenced-off property on the outskirts of a city. To re-insure the children do not stray from the house, the father conjured a fake brother that was banished from the house for being disobedient and was killed by a cat; “the most dangerous animal in the world”, reinstating their fear of what lies beyond their fence. As the movie continues, there is slight comic relief with the words they use to call certain objects. The best scene was when the son was
in the garden, bending over a patch of yellow flowers, who then calls out to his mother “I found some little zombies!”. To keep the son distracted with sexual activities, the father hires the services of a local security guard and takes her to the house blind folded. After a very awkward (more awkward than being in the car with your parents during an AMI radio ad) sex scene, the security guard bribes one of the other sisters with sexual favours in exchange for headbands and shampoo. On the next occasion, the sister refuses such acts for silly objects, demanding some videos from the security guard’s bag, later watching them and becoming very influenced and fixated with their portrayal of the outside world. The father eventually finds out and punishes both parties. The task of pleasuring the son is then given to the eldest daughter and the film went from strange to incestuous: all the good makings of a foreign film. The ending is quite action packed and I shan’t spoil it for you, as you really must see it for yourself. Now I understand this explanation was a bit of a mouthful, but so was what the daughters dealt with every day at the “hands” (I use that term very loosely) of their father. I will just say, although interesting, the film did lack focus at points and at times it was quite disturbing (and I’ve seen a lot of ridiculous shit on the big screen). A word of warning: do not watch it if you don’t like reading subtitles - you’ll be on a trip that even Manson himself would want out of.
BY CHARLOTTE LYNCH
SWIMMING POOLS ////////////// In the cooler months, it’s easy to forget the importance of an easily accessible pool. Even from the comfort of an air conditioned home, it’s easy to forget the perils of summer. But leaving it on 12°C 24 hours a day is going to come back to bite you, and when your Mum sees the electricity bill, I guarantee you shit will go down, and when it does, you’ll be calling that friend with the swimming pool. If you’re not lucky enough to have a friend with a swimming pool, you’re fucking unlucky! Suck shit! Pool parties are sick! Pool games are also sick. Combine the two and you’re in for a treat, but make sure you’re not friends with anyone who cheats in Marco Polo, because if they’re a seasoned cheater they’ll know how to hide it. If you are a person who cheats in pool games, there’s a special place in hell for people like you. Hitler is there too, surprise surprise, he always cheated in battleships, so much so that the SS suggested he wear blacked-out goggles. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion. Don’t think people won’t know if you pee in the pool either. People will always know.
ROAD TRIPS ///////////////////// Piling into a car and driving for hours on end always seems like a simple pleasure, but if you don’t prepare properly, it could be very disappointing. For example, where are you going? If you don’t have any direction you could very well find yourself in Wacol picking up hitch-hikers whose main goal in life is to make a raincoat out of the skin of unsuspecting road trippers. Make sure you pack enough food, and believe me, after living on snack food for any longer than 2 days you will be sweating MSG and will probably develop gangrene, so do yourself a favour and pack some real food. Never go road tripping with people you don’t know that well, because when you realise you hate them, shit will get awkward. You also don’t get any rights to the front seat when you’re the tag along, and everyone knows the front seat is the boss seat (only trumped by the driver’s seat). Oh and, come to think of it, don’t piss the driver off. Especially if they’re family, in which case they will not feel guilty making you walk home from Dubbo.
CHRISTMAS DAY ///////////////// Being forced into situations with people you don’t really love, just because they share the same DNA is pretty fucked up. Christmas Day can be pretty
hectic unless you really commit to making the most of it. You have to make sure the two good things about Christmas (food and presents) outweigh the overwhelmingly painful aspect (extended family). This is not so difficult. Be clear with what you want for Christmas, but make the most of what you get. I once asked for a GameBoy Colour, and all I got was a fucking Barbie Campervan. Fuck you, Mum! After many hours of crying I realised the van was not so bad, and was the perfect home for my gypsy Barbie family (until Kelly unfortunately died of scabies). Getting shit presents is disappointing, especially when you are expecting good ones, but it’s not the end of the world, there’s still the food. Try to encourage your family to make an abundance of food by always insisting that there will not be enough. “More potato salad Mum! More!” Lastly, when dealing with relatives, try telling long winded stories about your day to day life. They will grow weary and confused and will eventually leave you alone. If it gets to 1pm and you feel you have tried your best, you have my permission to get blind drunk.
FESTIVALS //////////////////////// Woodford, Sunset Sounds, Good Vibrations, Future, Big Day Out... When you add it all up, that’s like, 200,000 dickheads you are likely to encounter. 36,700 litres of fake tan, 50,000 pills, 13,480 Southern Cross tattoos, 121,400 singlets, and around 4,000,000 litres of sweat. Even if you’re not a real festival head, you know as well as I do that no matter how few festivals you actually attend, they’re still everywhere. There’s no avoiding it, but you can safeguard yourself. Wear protective clothing (sunglasses, t-shirts, hair tied back, iron chastity belt), be sure to physically, verbally, symbolically and metaphorically separate yourself from them. Make it clear that you are better and you know you are better. Practice your best “just-because-it’s-a-mosh-pit-doesn’t-mean-youcan-grope-me” and “yes-I-can-see-and-feel-yourboner–and-it’s-still-a-no” looks, and use them.
AFTERNOON BREWS //////////// Nothing beats a refreshing jug at your local on a lazy afternoon, you can even throw in a bowl of chips if you’re feeling peckish. Beware of trying to get drunk on mid-strength beers though, you will wind up bloated, broke and sober. No other time of the year is it more appropriate to develop a drinking habit. Go on people, crack open a coldy.
L//OCAL/////////ART
When local emerging Brisbane artist, Xiao Deng, isn’t working as a security guard or doing roller derby (she sounds tuff right?), she’s busy creating the most detailed illustrations that ooze of quirkiness, cuteness and absolute talent, wishing I could force feed her work to the pessimists that insist Brisbane is a cultural and artistic wasteland (think again!). Introducing the work and thoughts of Xiao Deng:
WWW.X IAOT HATASIAN .CO M
WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING? I work at the art gallery as a security guard. The job is very brain-killingly boring but I did get to meet Yoshitomo Nara on my first day and New Pants in one of the Up-Lates. So I guess it’s not that bad after all. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? My friend got me into roller derby this year. I train with the Brisbane City Rollers. Those guys are awesome. Derby is so much fun. Even getting knocked over is fun, well, most of the time. Occasionally I crochet and make stuff too, especially when I’m too broke to buy friends presents, like Christmas. WHEN DID YOUR PARENTS REALISE THAT YOU WERE TALENTED? I think they sort of expected it rather than realizing it. I come from a family with artistic background. My grandma was a master in Chinese watercolour painting and my dad was very talented in painting when he was my age. Actually I’m pretty shit compared to him. However I am way luckier because I got to do what I’m passionate about for a career while my dad had to give up painting for med school under family pressure.
WHEN DID YOU REALISE YOU WERE TALENTED? I studied graphic design at University and I didn’t have a good time. My boyfriend back then encouraged me to take a painting class for a change. I enjoyed it so much and I slowly abandoned my computer. Soon after that a friend invited me to be part of a group drawing exhibition. It was my first art show and I was really nervous about the whole thing. In the end all my drawings had sold. That’s when I realised “hey, maybe I can do this thing”. WHO OR WHAT IS YOUR MUSE? So many people and things inspire me. If I have to name a few: Murakami, Shrigley, Nara, Bradford Cox, animals, Japanese Anime porn, and stuff… WHAT IS YOUR IDEAL BLANK CANVAS? Anything I can draw on I guess. I’m mostly in love with paper at the moment because there’s so much you can do to it. WHAT’S BEHIND YOUR FASCINATION WITH DRAWING ANIMALS? It’s like an on-going wet dream of mine. I’m mostly fascinated with the qualities they have that we humans would die for.
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EXPLAIN YOUR WEBSITE URL: (WWW.XIAOTHATASIAN.COM) It’s from a conversation between my old house mate’s girlfriend and her friend that I overheard once. Basically the girl saw my boyfriend’s scooter outside my house and asked my house mate’s girlfriend whose it was. When my house mate’s girlfriend told her it was Xiao’s boyfriend’s scooter she said “Oh… that Asian.” And my house mate’s girlfriend went “Shh...”. That chick was really embarrassed when she realised I was home. Later, I was thinking maybe it’s how most people address me. And it’s quite funny so I don’t find it racist anymore. MOLESKINE OR THE ACTUAL SKIN OF A MOLE? I was against Moleskine for a long time, mostly because many douche bags from University that I hated had Moleskines and they looked ridiculous. But then I ended buying one myself. It is one of a kind. The paper is so smooth that it makes you wanna have sex with it. Anyway, what are we talking about again? POST MODERNISM OR POST PUNK MUSIC? Post punk for sure. Post modernism is cool and pioneering at the time but I’m not a fan because it’s anti-aesthetic and anti-functional therefore most of the time ugly and useless. ART ATTACK OR ATTACK OF THE CLONES? I’ve never seen any of the Star Wars movies. The only thing that I saw on TV with George Lucas in it, was that South Park episode where he raped Indiana Jones and a Storm trooper. PICASSO OR PRICASSO? I was perfectly happy not knowing who Pricasso was before seeing this question. Now I can’t get those shitty soft edge portraits, his saggy ass and that those silver boots out of my head. WHAT IS YOUR NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION FOR 2011 AND ARE YOU GOING TO STICK TO IT? Draw more, skate faster. I will stick to it because I haven’t had a show since June and I paid big money for those skates. WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AT THE AGE OF 40? Hopefully I’m still swinging it and haven’t become a crazy cat lady. WHERE CAN OUR READERS FIND YOUR WORK? I’ll do a better job keeping my website up-to date as part of my New Year’s Resolution. I also upload new work on Facebook every now and then. I haven’t really thought about copyright yet in regards to that. What the hell, I’m not famous. DRAW US A BAT: (SEE LEFT)
THERE COMES A TIME IN EVERYONE’S LIFE WHEN WE FIND OURSELVES IN A TRULY AWFUL SOCIAL SITUATION WHERE SOMETHING SO AWKWARD HAPPENS THAT RECOVERY IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE. Situations so awkward that the idea of dealing with them is harder than Mike “The Situation” and his abs of steel. However, BETTE WARD discovers there are steps that you can take to better the situation, lessening the blow of these moments.
HAVING YOUR CARD DECLINED This is made all the worse when the item is a total of $3 or if you’re at McDonalds and have already taken a bite out of the burger and you have to awkwardly hand it back. All you can do is look really angry and say, “Ohh, it’s been doing this all week, I thought the bank had fixed it.” and say that you’re going to go and get cash out. In reality, what you really do, is pack your bags and move to Florida and open a franchise of the “Leftorium”.
“YA MUM!” “MY MUM’S DEAD” “OH.” There is really nothing you can do in this situation. Not only have you insulted someone’s Mum, but you’ve insulted someone’s dead Mum. Apologise and then delete their number out of your phone, because look, you won’t be friends with them anymore.
SOMEONE HIDEOUS HITTING ON YOU AT A PARTY I’m not God’s gift to men, but my eyes point in the same direction and I still have all my original teeth, so I feel like I can be a bit picky. So you’re at a party and a guy that looks like the fat dude from Lost comes over and starts trying to impress with you with his Jerry Seinfeld impressions. They are actually kind of funny but laughing is a big mistake because he leans in so close you can see the cheese in his beard as he tries to go in for a kiss. You can try to fake being a lesbian and grab the hand of the closest girl, but then he’d probably try for a threesome, so your best bet is to clamp your hands to your mouth and pretend you’re going to vomit while running to the bathroom. Try and come out with some watery toothpaste around the edges of your mouth and on the front of your shirt, assuring that you’re safe for the night at least.
MISGUIDED COMPARISONS Does your best friend’s Mum remind you of Roseanne Barr? Or perhaps your Doctor looks like a male Whoopi Goldberg? Either way it’d probably be best to not mention this fact to them. Most likely they will be grossly offended at being likened to a fat washed-up actress and your Doctor will withhold your tonsillitis medicine.
YOUR PARENTS WALKING IN ON YOU SMOKING UP You may think that this situation is completely hopeless, knowing not even a chainsaw would break through the tension and the term “elephant in the room” is so appropriate that there somehow appears to be a real life elephant in the room. But the best thing to do in this situation is to cry and stamp around the room packing your things and saying, “You don’t respect me, you don’t knock, you don’t care about me, you hate me, you wish I was
never born!”. And bring up every school play Mum missed and the time Dad stepped on your kitten. They will be so flustered by the commotion they will probably freak the fuck out and forget the situation. Alternatively if you have ever seen your parents smoke weed/had them drunkenly confess to you their teenage experiments, use it against them: “If it weren’t your influence I wouldn’t be doing this, you caused this”. Works a treat.
WALKING IN ON YOUR PARENTS HAVING SEX Indeed we all like to think our parents have only had sex once, resulting in our own conception and perhaps further times for our brothers and sisters. But if Sex and the City has taught us anything, it’s that old people actually do have sex. There are really no words to describe how awkward this situation is. Catching a glimpse of Dad’s ass and questioning what possessed him to get a tattoo of Tweedy bird on his left cheek. Needless to say the only thing you can do is back out slowly then sob silently into your pillow. And since parents found out how to use modern technology, this horror has multiplied. Stumbling upon a blank DVD which you originally thought was your graduation video could perhaps be your Mum’s fantasy of picking up a fire fighter or the file on the computer entitled, “Aunt Jane’s Wedding” is actually Dad’s collection of nudes. You should’ve known, you don’t even have an Aunt Jane.
CALLING THE WRONG NUMBER The only good thing about this, is that since it’s over the telephone, the other person can’t actually see you cringe. This situation is even more awkward when you say, “What’s up cunt” to the person on the other line before finding out it’s an elderly nun. There is really only one way to get out of this situation: hang up, put the phone down, walk away and come back in five minutes and hope for a better outcome. However if someone has written down their number wrong and you continue to call it, just pretend to be a telemarketer and they will most probably hang up on you.
FREAKY SEX LIVES COMING OUT In a true Rugby player style: getting a BJ from a dog is not what I would call a typical Monday night. If you have a penchant for beastiality, wearing a diaper or for fat chicks, then that is fine if it’s conducted behind closed doors with consenting adults/animals. But it’s when your dirty sheets appear on the news or on Youtube (Youtube “2 very sick human beings” and be prepared to be fucked up). There really is only one thing that can rectify this ordeal: move to another country, maybe somewhere in Africa or the Middle East where there is no television, internet or newspapers, grow a beard, change your hair colour and prepare to start again. Seriously mate, was that BJ from a dog worth it now?
PHOTOS BY
www.katelrampling.tumblr.com
L//OCAL////////////// // ///////MUSIC / / / / / / / / / / / sstag.tumblr.com
When I first saw STAG play at Alchemix in Wooloongabba a few months ago, something between the tiny girl sitting on the floor playing with an electronic thing and the sexy redhead yelling blurry catcalls through the microphone made me kind of want to mosh. They remind me a bit of the Riot Grrrl band, Bikini Kill, that ever since grade 9 you’ve always secretly wanted to be in, but minus the pent-up angst of your fourteen-year-old self. There’s still that sense that they’re doing it their own fucking weird way, and the music’s so good that it might even be revolution grrrl-style now. Move over all you zombie cheerleader MTV brats, Stag is here, and they have an unbelievably well-rounded knowledge of 90s pop culture. Interview with Drea & Katie of STAG.
DESCRIBE YOUR SOUND IN MEDICAL TERMS: D: That sound when liquid backs up, into the oesophagus from your stomach. K: Just as bubbly but not as embarrassing! Maybe like a phantom limb that we’re still gonna be feeling years after it’s gone. But without the pain... We hope. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? K: Definitely the ghost in the machine sort, especially in PA’s and Bass Amps... and Patrick Swayze.
IF YOU AUDITIONED FOR X FACTOR WHAT SONG WOULD YOU SING AND WHICH JUDGE DO YOU THINK WOULD LIKE YOU BEST? D: We would sing “Ken Lee” by Mariah Carey. They would all love us because we’d be delivering tandem wristies under the judging table. Jokes on them - first minute is free but after that you pay double. No judgement. IF YOU WERE THE CHARACTERS IN ENID BLIGHTON’S FAMOUS FIVE, WHAT ADVENTURES WOULD BE IN STORE? D: Just being famous is never enough. K: Yeah. I’m only playing if I get a go on the wishing chair. D: Oi, remember when the wishing chair went to that kewl village? And there was ice cream on tap that’d pour into your cone when you said what flavour you wanted out loud? And there was a magical bakery, with a similar customised order deal? And they all rode go-carts for kicks? Strewth, babe. Strewth. K: The band won’t care where we go, so long as there’s food. WHERE IS YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE TO PLAY LIVE SHOWS IN BRISBANE? D: Burst City! THE POOL! K: Squats and Laundromats are fun too. In that order.
WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE CLASSIC NINETIES GIRL GROUP AND WHY? D: Is the 90s classic already? God damn! I guess Destiny’s Child were pretty damn slick. Does it have to be girls? Can I say the Backstreet Boys? Quit Playing Games (With My Heart) is an unforgettable, unquestionable classic hit! K: Salt-n-Pepa and OOIOO for me. BTW, the Saltn-Pepa ladies all have kids now and the line up in OOIOO has completely changed but both are still pumpin’, slash rockin. Damn impressive. WHO WOULD WIN IN A FIGHT BETWEEN TLC AND DESTINY’S CHILD? D: Destiny’s Child. First of all, TLC are down a member. And it would work like this - Beyonce would strangle them with her thighs while Kelly Rowland distracted them with pity; and Michelle would blind them with stifling irrelevance. K: No one would have got past “Left Eye” though. BEST COLLABORATIONS: EMINEM/DIDO OR EMINEM/RIHANNA? D: This is a youth orientated question. It requires research into youth culture on my part - I am out. I have passed this onto my friend’s 14 year old brother. JOHN TRAVOLTA/OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN OR JOHN TRAVOLTA/QANTAS? K: Neither, John Travolta/Sexy gay spa wins every time. JACK WHITE/ALICIA KEYS OR JACK WHITE/JAY-Z OR ALICIA KEYS/JAY-Z? D: Our 14 year old advisor is preoccupied with multiple girlfriends and Facebook... He doesn’t appear to be replying... GORILLAZ/DE LA SOUL OR GORILLAZ/LOU REED? K: So long as Gorillaz/ raping toad orally doesn’t win. Whatever. Don’t look it up. Sorry Gran. BANKSY/THE SIMPSONS OR AEROSMITH/THE SIMPSONS? K: Who are the Simpsons? D: Ha-ha! IF YOU WERE TO DIE AND FIND OUT BY SOME SICK JOKE HEAVEN TRULY DOES EXIST (AND
YES! YOU GOT IN PURELY BECAUSE YOU RAPED LIFE UP THE ASS BY BEING IN A GAL BAND) WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE? D: That’s pretty extreme... How does being in a girl band equate to raping life up the ass KT: Life’s pretty kinky I guess. D: There’d be a massive mountain of carbs and cats. K: Where Hugh Jackman and Fred Durst never have or will exist. D: But Fred Durst guitar solos would still live in our hearts. It would be STI free. Everyone would wear bikinis and the rivers would be made of chocolate. And everyone would Bollywood dance because it is fun. OOPS! AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT, BY SOME ADMINISTRATIONAL ERROR YOU WERE INITIALLY MISTAKEN FOR NELSON MANDELA HIMSELF, BUT NOW, AS IT TURNS OUT, RAPING LIFE DOES NOT QUALIFY YOU FOR ENTRY INTO HEAVEN AND SO YOU ARE RELOCATED TO HELL. WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE? D: Now you are allergic to the cat mountain and you’re a coeliac. Your crabs have gotten worse, and you have contracted syphilis and, inexplicably, scurvy. Only the ugly flaunt bikinis, you’re horribly lactose intolerant and the chocolate river is full cream. Worst of all there is no Bollywood. K: I think it would probably look the way Christians always describe heaven as looking, i.e. Christians everywhere and therefore boring as hell! Ha! Get it? It’s a cliché, so it must be true. WHAT’S UP IN THE NEAR FUTURE FOR STAG? D: We are having a pool party! You should crash it. Coming to Ithaca Pool in December / January. All Stag Hags welcome! K: And we’ll finish recording so we can finally press our vinyl. We don’t do pipe dreams. YOU GIRLS ALWAYS LOOK SO GOOD, WHERE DO YOU GET YR AWESOME CLOTHES? D: Go see Dave at Bang Doll Vintage, Boundary St, West End!!! He will kit you up to look just like Stag!! STAG play WHY? aka Shitlife 2 @ Dutton Park Cemetery December 11 & Summer Pool Party w/ Feathers @ Ithaca Pool December 29
THE HOLIDAYS ARE FAST APPROACHING, IF NOT, THEY ARE ALREADY HERE IN THE FORM OF MEDIOCRE DAYTIME TV OR DISASTROUS FAMILY DYNAMICS, WHICH ARE BECOMING MORE AND MORE TENSE AS CABIN FEVER SETS IN. To help you through the holiday boredom and to prevent you from deciphering the meows of your cat into three different categories (“I love you”, “I’m hungry” and “Mum!”), here are some handy hints I’ve got for you to get you through these summer months.
BY EMILY DONOHOE
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Create a computer virus for a Mac out of the pure vindictive motives that evolved from the fact that while you were surfing the net on your PC, you encountered a virus yourself. Like the time I clicked “scan” on an Antivirus pop-up, only to then realise 30 seconds later that the only Antivirus software I owned was Norton, not “AntiVirus Pluz”, thus allowing another virus to emerge itself into my files, spreading its cyber STDs into my Motherboard. You’ll spend many fun-filled days trying to repress “information being sent from your computer” and debugging countless worms. Hold on tight and enjoy the digital ride because nothing says “Merry Christmas” like “Trojan.ce” and a Desktop full of shortcut icons to Porn sites. Clean your fish tank, please. “Bubbles”’s fate is looming towards a replacement by “Bubbles II” when you realise your water isn’t just a reflection of your beige coloured walls as the house was painted in the shade of Dulux “Snowstorm”. Get up and work your magic so that the castle inside your fish tank can truly reflect that of Hogwarts. Scratch “LOL” into your respective partners Call of Duty: Black Ops CD-ROM, and you’ll have a house full of colourful conversations, reasoning the fact that you “only did it because I thought it would unlock a new wacky map, much like Mario Kart’s Rainbow Road”, truly making it a day no one would ever forget. Watch channel GO! and/or GEM. With summer setting in hard and fast, once again those disgustingly hot and restless nights return. You try to pass the time by foraging for food, opening the fridge at least four times an hour knowing nothing of interest is in there, but continuing your search through the cupboard only to find five-month-old Vita Weats, a quarter of a jar of Vegemite and an array of MasterFoods spices. Thankfully, the jazzy tunes of The Nanny echoing through
out the house shall reassure your will to live just that little bit longer. With other classics such as; South Park, Ladette to Lady, The Hills and How Clean Is Your House? - these derivatives of Channel Nine have provided an alternative to The Circle of which I would never trade. Explore your City’s many colourful inhabitants. I know for a fact that Brisbane City is crawling with individuals who are finding the need to share their stories with the world. My personal favourites are “The Bible Man’’, whose coarse voice echoes the verses of the Lord throughout Adelaide Street and the He/She King George Square character named “Margaret” whose philosophies in life include “Birthing… your birthing is backwards, you were not meant to enter someone else’s stomach and then out of their legs. You were meant to spiritually enter the outside egg and then hatch out through your body.” However later reading Margaret’s theory that “our body is born to die”, I was inclined to politely nod in agreement and be on my way. Blacklisted Brisbane personalities include that actual bitch that sells The Big Issue. You haunt me in the City, you haunt me at Indooroopilly, you even haunt me outside the Brumbies and Baker’s Delight of Kenmore AND The Gap. Leave me alone! I have given you a lifetime’s worth of 20c pieces, I do not want your magazine! Plus my sister saw you playing a Nintendo DS on the bus, you fake! Lindsay’s doing it, Phil’s doing it, and heck, even Whoopi’s doing it. Start a blog of your own and express your individuality to the world. Grab a pen and paper and re-watch all of your favourite movies, keeping a keen eye for cars in the backgrounds of sets, microphone packs on the actor’s back pockets, phantom shadows and other discrepancies. Post it online and win the respect of me and many of the followers from the “Television & Film” discussion board on 4chan.org.
clothing & accessories // SOOT by Edwina Sinclair photographer // SOPHIE RICHARDS stylist & director // CHARLOTTE LYNCH models // LUCIA & BRITTNEY
A RANT BY PAULINE CALVAR
Not so long ago, I lived in a cheap, worn down – well let’s just say: hovel. This hovel was shared by myself, my hairy boyfriend and an unwelcome (and an arguably equally hairy) third party. A family of possums, which had laid stake upon our house, and nothing, and I really genuinely, seriously, sincerely and unequivocally mean NOTHING we could ever do would change that. By this stage you may be thinking “Ha, what is this bitch complaining about? Possums are everywhere, even in my house… Shut up you whiney slut!”. Well in that case you would be right. But you really can’t say that you’ve had a possum problem (or any kind of problem) until you’ve spent the night in that house. There are nights I recall being so close to a mental breakdown and on the verge of tears (yes, really), as for the 8th time I would be woken and have to clamber over my useless (for possum wrangling purposes) boyfriend, to reach for the possum stick (yes, I had a possum stick, conveniently located at the entrance to the bedroom for super quick access) and shoo those mother fuckers who would always find (no matter how well hidden) some sort of obscure grocery to noisily tear apart and eat. All of this would be happening while I would be telling myself that the grass is greener on the other side. “The other side of what?” you ask? The other side of ten years of having my Maggi 2 minute noodles, my newly bought powdered Cadbury chocolate (a special treat from me to me), my Oreos, which out of all of MY grocery shop (including assorted fruits and vegetables) the possums decided to steal and leave crumbled remains of on my front stairs.
I have psychological, physical, testimonial, photographical and film evidence of these events. And the funny thing is; at the end of it all, the possums were really quite domesticated. They never flinched or got frightened at the sight of me in my t-shirt and undies running, screaming at them to get the fuck out of my house (I don’t really know which one would be scarier, the thought of being hit with a stick, or the vision on me running in underwear). So please believe me when I tell you, WE. DID. EVERYTHING. WE. COULD. And none of it worked. I can tell you though, hours of entertainment were provided by my stories to family and friends. Although they never will know the permanent emotional scars I’ve been left with. Although a self-proclaimed and avid animal lover, I have to say I would be unlikely to slow down should an unfortunate possum cross my car’s path. Anyway, I guess the point of this fucking ramble is that, next time you’re driving your daddy’s Porsche and you’ve caught your girlfriend sucking off one of your mates and you just don’t have enough money in your parent fuelled trust fund to buy the latest COD game because you’ve spent it all on party drugs, and you think your life is really shit, spare a thought for the rest of us little people, that lived with possums for ten years, yeah? Spare a thought for the lost MiGoreng packs and the stolen Oreo’s because really… Your life can’t suck THAT hard (neither can your girlfriend). Get over it.
As humans there are many wild and wonderful functions which our mind and body can’t harbour any real control over. When we are babies, we shit ourselves. When we are old, we shit ourselves some more. However, throughout adolescence, there is one strangely pleasurable experience that drives the sheer force of our subconscious into overdrive: sex dreams.
AN ARTICLE BY JESSIE POWER
IT’S NO SECRET THAT MY CONSCIOUS TRAIN OF THOUGHT IS A LITTLE WACKY AND SO WHEN I AWOKE A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO AND THOUGHT TO MYSELF: “HOLY FUCK, WAS THAT A CARROT WEARING A WEAVE OR DID I JUST DREAM OF BANGING SNOOKI?” I DECIDED TO DELVE FURTHER INTO THE ABSOLUTE INSANITY OF MY SUBCONSCIOUS AND TO A GREATER EXTENT, THE HILARITY OF THE SUBJECTS WHICH HAVE BECOME ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS IN THE FUCKED UP SEX DREAMS OF MY FRIENDS AND FOES ALIKE. LET’S EXPLORE! We can firmly establish that every human being on planet earth will experience sex dreams over the course of their life. If you are reading this and have just gasped in indignation at that fact: stop fucking lying to yourself and embrace your inner slut.
actually Bill Bailey - a really serious one) came into my caravan and he had a whip (THIS HURTS ME TO REMEMBER) and he was wearing leather too. Basically, I got it on with a Russian Bill Bailey…why couldn’t it have been Johnny Depp or Jude Law?”
Indeed, the time had come for me to call upon a variety of lads and lasses to share with me the most bizarre sex dream that they had ever experienced. For the dignity of those who shared their deepest, darkest secrets with me, I will keep your identity anonymous, because in the words of Jaydos as he describes the structure of the ribbed condom, “that shit’s pretty uncomfortable.”
// In my highly credited opinion, there’s nothing
SEX DREAM #1: “There was some serious shit
// I would like to propose a rather outlandish
going down. I was in a gang and our rival gang was getting up to something on the Gold Coast (the warehouses, like you see around the outer southern suburbs). I had to get to this warehouse to save these pair of Converse shoes I had wanted for ages. They were beige with a rainbow on the back and a cute cloud. Anyway, I had to get to this place, so I befriended a pegasus to fly me to the warehouse so I could get amongst the action and get my shoes. We developed a sexual relationship (Although I didn’t see any pegasus dick) and he took me there, flew over the Gold Coast highway, got to the warehouse, shot everyone, got my shoes and got home. I woke up in a cold sweat and a smile on my face.”
// Gangs? Gold Coast? Beastiality with a mythical creature? This dream can only have been spurred by a long and prosperous drug addiction to heroin, cocaine, crystal meth or all of the above. My guess is that those beloved converse were also symbolic of the same pair that remain dangling from the powerline outside of your dealer’s home and consequently led you to your next hit. SCORE! (No pun intended). SEX DREAM #2: “Once I think I was in Russia and I was a prostitute and all dressed in tight leather pants and a shirt and stuff. This guy (who was
even remotely wrong with this dream, because everyone knows that though he may be ageing, bald and overweight, Bill Bailey is a still a fucking boss.
SEX DREAM #3: “The most bizarre sex dream I ever had, didn’t actually involve me at all. I dreamt my mum was having sex with my brother and he kept squealing like a girl…I wish to remain anonymous.” theory for this particular breed of sex dream. What if particular menaces within our society were able to effectively take over your body whilst you are asleep to fulfill their sexual fantasies? In this instance, it is highly plausible that Geoffrey “YOU TOO, ARE A RAPER” Leonard has in fact crawled inside you like a warm kitten and had himself a jolly good time. For that, my deepest sympathies remain with you. Though the ultimate root of our subconscious sexual experiences will heretofore remain unanswered, this doesn’t mean you cannot share these finer details with friends, a lover or if you really feel like stepping over the boundaries of conventionalism, perhaps with your parents whilst enjoying a nice lamb roast. There is an overwhelming sense of comfort to be felt when you reveal to your best friend that you got a boner whilst dreaming about Meryl Streep frolicking naked in a meadow, only to have them delightfully reciprocate that they once dreamt of doing the deed with the world’s most infamous hermaphrodite: Justin Bieber. If not for this glorious sense of relief to be rendered whilst sharing your sex dreams, why not just to subscribe to the ultimate expectation of our generation and do it “for the lulz”? Sweet dreams, children…
So I had arrived at the Taj Mahal. The moment I stepped through the entrance I gasped, the monument was magnificent beyond words. This gasp of amazement was soon turned into wheezing gasps of laughter, because in the total of the three hours I was there, I witnessed so many classic tourist poses that I am seriously considering starting up a website and retiring… content with spending the rest of my days loitering world heritage sights with a 100 x zoom lens and a bag of nappies so I can let the good times flow. 90% tourists, 100% percent funny. Here are some that were captured in just a three hour space:
IMAGES ON THE LEFT /////////////////////////////// ONE: HEAD DOWN, BUMS UP - At first I thought this man was praying to the Taj Mahal, then I thought he was trying to hide the fact he had severe “Delhi belly”. It wasn’t until he got up ten minutes later I realized it was neither, he was just American TWO: HUNCHBACK OF TAJ MAHAL - Rumour has it she hides in bushes taking photos of foreigners to put on t-shirts and sell to Indians. She also enjoys squatting, red shoe covers, and long walks on the beach THREE: SQUAT-A-LICIOUS - Spreadin them legs like yeah… looks like I’m taking a dump like yeah… FOUR: DOUBLE SQUATTER - A picture says a thousand words… but I am left speechless.
IMAGES ON THE RIGHT ////////////////////////////// FIVE: TRIPLE SQUATTER - When groups of tourists stick together so they can share the shame SIX: CASUAL YOGA - “Just chillin, casually doing some Yoga, at the Taj, no biggie” SEVEN: WE STICK TOGETHER - Easily identifiable by their flaming red shoe covers and fluro caps, these kinds of tourist huddle together and never leave a three meter radius of the tour guide… not even when they go to the toilet EIGHT: LONDON BRIDGE - Their bodies say “Oh wow I’m at the Taj Mahal what a tremendous life experience, hi mum and dad!” but their faces say ”…….”
T/////HE CULPRITS ////////////////////
BY RACHAEL MELMETH