You bought me a girls bike, you idiot!

I'm the type of guy who'll wish you well after he tells you to go fuck yourself. So maybe having a blog would be hilarious and dangerous to the ears of idiots.
Day 2 - Seb is a tourist, but not one of THOSE tourists. I awoke incredibly early today after sleeping off the lag that comes with flight. It was first at 5am where I awoke by the aid of a rooster crowing and then later at 7am, where I groggily threw myself at my new surroundings. The bed was soft and plush and the pillow big and fluffy… Which destroyed my neck as I like to employ the almost near suffocation sleeping style (stomach down, face almost in pillow, left arm folded to prop up for oxygen). That, I didn’t mind at all. The Desa Sanctuary where we’re staying is beautiful. It blends traditional Balinese design with modern facilities, including several places to just chill and let time subside away into nothingness. Breakfast was toast and eggs, Jess went for fruit. Her meal was like fruit and art collided and created a masterpiece. I was envious as I looked at mine. I’m trying to provide an idea of the whole scene without coming across as over abundant. We asked Nengah to drive us into Ubud, especially to a place called ‘Bali Buda’, where he casually obliged and taught us more of the local dialect and language. I’m truly trying my hardest to grasp the language, but my mind has been acting like a bucket with holes in it. How’s that for a metaphor. Boom, nailed it. Either way, Nengah is being his considerate and cheerful self as he drives us to our destination. Bali Buda is located in the hub of busy Ubud, along the backstreets and painted purple for attention. The food is mostly raw/vegan, they have a space for yoga and a supermarket on the bottom floor. We settled in for more breakfast/brunch. I casually destroyed a puzzle they had on the tables, a collection of wood pieces that form a particular shape. My head was spinning trying to comprehend how it all fit, until I admitted defeat and apologised to the staff, where they laughed it off and showed me the cheat sheet. A pot pie and salad later, we trekked Ubud. Its a charming little locale full of boutiques and small shops along thumping vein like streets. Each shop has spiritual offerings by the entrances, casually mixing spiritual gratification with career happiness. Nengah told me yesterday that you need to take pride in what you do, and that is exactly how each shop and locale abides by. From then, we walked at least 2 hours around the bustling streets. Man, those streets are nuts. What you’ll be greeted with is a traffic system that is dominant and chaotic, but controlled in its own way. It seems like comfort zones don’t exist, rear view mirrors are never used and bikes are the king of the hill (as you can start riding around on them from the age of 14). We eventually found our way into a silks shop where Jess tried on a few dresses. The woman was in her 30’s and sassy as all manner. We haggled on the price for two cotton dresses in black and purple, whilst the whole time the shop owner was punching my arm because we were driving too hard of a bargain. That’s just the way I roll with strangers; one second they don’t know me, next second their calling me crazy and punching my arms. It’s a flattering culture; people are all appreciative, polite and happy. They generally want the best for you, and don’t gloat about it. I was quite humbled about having people comment on my tattoos, and then trading stories about inking. My favourite was being approached by a man offering a taxi service, discussing my coloured sparrows and ending the conversation about his neck tattoo… The xXx logo (you know the one, the Vin Diesel action film). I shot him a quick “pew pew” with my trigger fingers and he walked away blessing me and pretending to have been shot. Either way, the folks here are fantastic. I guess what truly sticks out to me about it all, is that the locals can speak English as well as they can. They adapted a language that most of my friends are still trying to master. It got me thinking about how in our home of ‘Straya’, we don’t really accommodate so much at times, and that we only have small pockets of places that speak something other than English to welcome strangers. It’s a sad thought. Dida to that thinking. The rest of the day we walked Ubud. Chilled out in a day bed at our sanctuary, and had a crown massage followed by dinner. We have taken to this place like fish to water, even if its only our first official day; but its hard not to really, as this place is truly spectacular. A $3 longneck of Bintang aided this long rant of literature. Music listening to: the Khanz, Touché Amore and Title Fight. Seb’s second day - Ubud; welcome to the friendliest place around stranger. Terrima Kasi.

Day 2 - Seb is a tourist, but not one of THOSE tourists.

I awoke incredibly early today after sleeping off the lag that comes with flight. It was first at 5am where I awoke by the aid of a rooster crowing and then later at 7am, where I groggily threw myself at my new surroundings. The bed was soft and plush and the pillow big and fluffy… Which destroyed my neck as I like to employ the almost near suffocation sleeping style (stomach down, face almost in pillow, left arm folded to prop up for oxygen). That, I didn’t mind at all. The Desa Sanctuary where we’re staying is beautiful. It blends traditional Balinese design with modern facilities, including several places to just chill and let time subside away into nothingness.
Breakfast was toast and eggs, Jess went for fruit. Her meal was like fruit and art collided and created a masterpiece. I was envious as I looked at mine. I’m trying to provide an idea of the whole scene without coming across as over abundant.

We asked Nengah to drive us into Ubud, especially to a place called ‘Bali Buda’, where he casually obliged and taught us more of the local dialect and language. I’m truly trying my hardest to grasp the language, but my mind has been acting like a bucket with holes in it. How’s that for a metaphor. Boom, nailed it. Either way, Nengah is being his considerate and cheerful self as he drives us to our destination.
Bali Buda is located in the hub of busy Ubud, along the backstreets and painted purple for attention. The food is mostly raw/vegan, they have a space for yoga and a supermarket on the bottom floor. We settled in for more breakfast/brunch. I casually destroyed a puzzle they had on the tables, a collection of wood pieces that form a particular shape. My head was spinning trying to comprehend how it all fit, until I admitted defeat and apologised to the staff, where they laughed it off and showed me the cheat sheet.

A pot pie and salad later, we trekked Ubud. Its a charming little locale full of boutiques and small shops along thumping vein like streets. Each shop has spiritual offerings by the entrances, casually mixing spiritual gratification with career happiness. Nengah told me yesterday that you need to take pride in what you do, and that is exactly how each shop and locale abides by. From then, we walked at least 2 hours around the bustling streets. Man, those streets are nuts.
What you’ll be greeted with is a traffic system that is dominant and chaotic, but controlled in its own way. It seems like comfort zones don’t exist, rear view mirrors are never used and bikes are the king of the hill (as you can start riding around on them from the age of 14).
We eventually found our way into a silks shop where Jess tried on a few dresses. The woman was in her 30’s and sassy as all manner. We haggled on the price for two cotton dresses in black and purple, whilst the whole time the shop owner was punching my arm because we were driving too hard of a bargain. That’s just the way I roll with strangers; one second they don’t know me, next second their calling me crazy and punching my arms.

It’s a flattering culture; people are all appreciative, polite and happy. They generally want the best for you, and don’t gloat about it. I was quite humbled about having people comment on my tattoos, and then trading stories about inking. My favourite was being approached by a man offering a taxi service, discussing my coloured sparrows and ending the conversation about his neck tattoo… The xXx logo (you know the one, the Vin Diesel action film). I shot him a quick “pew pew” with my trigger fingers and he walked away blessing me and pretending to have been shot. Either way, the folks here are fantastic.

I guess what truly sticks out to me about it all, is that the locals can speak English as well as they can. They adapted a language that most of my friends are still trying to master. It got me thinking about how in our home of ‘Straya’, we don’t really accommodate so much at times, and that we only have small pockets of places that speak something other than English to welcome strangers. It’s a sad thought. Dida to that thinking.

The rest of the day we walked Ubud. Chilled out in a day bed at our sanctuary, and had a crown massage followed by dinner. We have taken to this place like fish to water, even if its only our first official day; but its hard not to really, as this place is truly spectacular.

A $3 longneck of Bintang aided this long rant of literature. Music listening to: the Khanz, Touché Amore and Title Fight.

Seb’s second day - Ubud; welcome to the friendliest place around stranger. Terrima Kasi.

Seb in Bali - Day 1. The 17th of October 2012, at 5:20pm from gate 33 at Sydney international airport, Jess and myself boarded Jetstar flight jq37 to Denpasar, Bali. That officially starts our trip of 14 days. 14 single moments of exploration. The 6 hour flight to Bali was harsh, due to a row of Newcastle folk getting tanked on $9 jim beams and cokes. The woman next to me was friendly. Her and her husband have been married since 1989, had a ceremony in Scotland and moved to Australia to give birth to their now 20 year old son. He is currently at home along the northern beaches spending time with his Chef apprentice girlfriend pretending to be a married couple, as she lamented to me. I already got to know too much, but they were a lovely couple in the mid 40’s, so it was forgiven. Her husband was quiet, and she spoke mostly on behalf of both of them, though he did look like someone who could mess you up if you double crossed him down a dark alley. Back to those Newcastleans, they were a rowdy bunch of ‘Strayans’ who spent the whole 6 hour flight blabbering about how their going to get on the piss, how they’re going to fuck shit and how they’re going to Qutar to be fucking wanker tourists. They kept kicking the woman’s seat next to me, where she got angry and told them to stop, which urged them to keep going. I just encountered the wanker Strayan tourist, and they hang in clusters. The urge to go to the toilet was strong, real strong. So I climbed over Jess from the Isles seats and walked to the back of the plane where there was a vacant toilet. I went to the portable toilet and opened the latch, to quickly finding a grown man sitting on the throne looking back at me in shock! I slammed the door quickly, apologised and ran off as fast as you could in a pressurised cabin situation. I didn’t catch that guys face so I could avoid him in the customs line if coincidences were comedians, but I saw too much. Way. Too. Much. We landed at Denpasar at 8:35 their time and manoeuvred through a chaotically complex yet insanely simple airport. The best way to describe the airport is that it’s a working clock, but with all the inner parts are made to fit and aged to rust. It works, but everything is stressed. We payed our visa, said no to someone peddling something, custom checked in, attained our bags, had them screened and eventually walked out into a massive throw of people holding signs with names on it to drive them all to their destinations. It was a miracle that we found Jess’ name among the sea of handwritten paper cards and it was also a miracle to have been driven by a really amazing local. 40 year old Nangha drove us from the airport to the Desa Sanctuary in Ubud, where along the way we spoke of anything our languages could and taught each other what we either forgot or didn’t know in our foreign dialects. He told us about his family, his love for Australians and his life with Bali. He gave us the culture shock lesson we didn’t read or research. He manoeuvred his Suzuki van through waves of motorbikes and cars, avoiding everything with only a few inches to spare, it was amazing! We reached our villa. It’s heaven. I’m now too tired to describe to you how awesome this place is, but imagine a location picked for a travel doco… This place is it. Talk more tomorrow. Till then, Tatuam Asi. Seb in Bali, day 1.

Seb in Bali - Day 1.

The 17th of October 2012, at 5:20pm from gate 33 at Sydney international airport, Jess and myself boarded Jetstar flight jq37 to Denpasar, Bali. That officially starts our trip of 14 days. 14 single moments of exploration.

The 6 hour flight to Bali was harsh, due to a row of Newcastle folk getting tanked on $9 jim beams and cokes. The woman next to me was friendly. Her and her husband have been married since 1989, had a ceremony in Scotland and moved to Australia to give birth to their now 20 year old son. He is currently at home along the northern beaches spending time with his Chef apprentice girlfriend pretending to be a married couple, as she lamented to me. I already got to know too much, but they were a lovely couple in the mid 40’s, so it was forgiven. Her husband was quiet, and she spoke mostly on behalf of both of them, though he did look like someone who could mess you up if you double crossed him down a dark alley.
Back to those Newcastleans, they were a rowdy bunch of ‘Strayans’ who spent the whole 6 hour flight blabbering about how their going to get on the piss, how they’re going to fuck shit and how they’re going to Qutar to be fucking wanker tourists. They kept kicking the woman’s seat next to me, where she got angry and told them to stop, which urged them to keep going. I just encountered the wanker Strayan tourist, and they hang in clusters.

The urge to go to the toilet was strong, real strong. So I climbed over Jess from the Isles seats and walked to the back of the plane where there was a vacant toilet. I went to the portable toilet and opened the latch, to quickly finding a grown man sitting on the throne looking back at me in shock! I slammed the door quickly, apologised and ran off as fast as you could in a pressurised cabin situation. I didn’t catch that guys face so I could avoid him in the customs line if coincidences were comedians, but I saw too much. Way. Too. Much.

We landed at Denpasar at 8:35 their time and manoeuvred through a chaotically complex yet insanely simple airport. The best way to describe the airport is that it’s a working clock, but with all the inner parts are made to fit and aged to rust. It works, but everything is stressed. We payed our visa, said no to someone peddling something, custom checked in, attained our bags, had them screened and eventually walked out into a massive throw of people holding signs with names on it to drive them all to their destinations. It was a miracle that we found Jess’ name among the sea of handwritten paper cards and it was also a miracle to have been driven by a really amazing local.

40 year old Nangha drove us from the airport to the Desa Sanctuary in Ubud, where along the way we spoke of anything our languages could and taught each other what we either forgot or didn’t know in our foreign dialects. He told us about his family, his love for Australians and his life with Bali. He gave us the culture shock lesson we didn’t read or research. He manoeuvred his Suzuki van through waves of motorbikes and cars, avoiding everything with only a few inches to spare, it was amazing!

We reached our villa. It’s heaven. I’m now too tired to describe to you how awesome this place is, but imagine a location picked for a travel doco… This place is it.

Talk more tomorrow. Till then, Tatuam Asi.

Seb in Bali, day 1.

GIRLS BIKE APRIL FOOLS DAY SPECIAL!

Today out of sheer boredom and lack of energy to actually perform pranks, I decided to enlighten my lovely circle of friends with my tried and true pranks. They range in difficulty setting and also tend to span across to career types. So, go ahead and read and use whenever needed.

Side note, I gave out these pearls of wisdom from the times of 0500am to 1200pm in Sydney Australia. And the rule is that April Fools expires at midday, which is ridiculous and stupid. It’s called “April Fools Day” not “April Fools Half Day”.


April fools simplicity guide number 1:

Photocopy the words “April Fools”. Place corresponding papers on the backs of cubical doors in public lavatories. Result would be unease and slight panic into what people sat on.

April fools simplicity guide number 2:

Choose a toilet at random and place cling wrap tightly across the porcelain.

April fools simplicity guide number 3:

Printscreen a work colleagues web browser and set it as their desktop, whilst also removing all icons on the desktop also.

April fools simplicity guide number 4:

Add food colouring to food items such as milk and juice, and remove yolks from eggs using 2 pinholes top and bottom. Leave in kitchen for the unsuspecting fool.

April fools simplicity guide number 5:

Super glue loose change on the floor in a high through-fare area, sit down, enjoy and maybe tally how many people get tricked.

April fools simplicity guide number 6:

Offer to take someone’s picture on your camera phone, set your camera to video function and record them waiting for the photo whilst making excuses about why the phone isn’t working.

April fools simplicity guide number 7:

Set your birthday to April the 1st, count how many generous birthday messages you get.

April fools simplicity guide number 8:

Coat all ceiling fans and Air Conditioner vents with flour or talcum powder.

April fools simplicity guide number 9:

Place Vaseline on door handles, window locks and taps.

April fools advanced guide number 10:

Purchase a great amount of sponges. Cut them into circular shapes that fit into cupcake cups/moulds . Then layer the top of the sponge with an intricate amount of creams and icing to give the sponge weight and presentation that is enticing. Find a cake box from a local baker with a sterling reputation, place all the cupcakes in and present it wherever necessary.

April fools simplicity guide number 11:

Apply a very fine layer of Vaseline to the glass plate of a photocopier. Also place a few pages in the photocopier’s paper tray that read “APRIL FOOLS”.

April fools intermediate guide number 12:

Buy a packet of creamed cookies, carefully scrape out all the cream innards from each cookie, replace with items that have the same colouring. For example: replace the innards of an Oreo with toothpaste.

April fools simplicity guide number 13:

At your workplace, place a post-it note across all the optical sensors underneath each mouse, turn up the volume to maximum on all speakers and replace desktop images with full screen images of broken LCD panels (make sure to hide all icons and the start bar or utility shelves on mac’s).

April fools advanced guide number 14: (Use at victims discretion)

Apply fish sauce or paste to the seals of the victims car doors. Leave sardines in the spare tire mount in the boot. Allow to ferment, so begin this prank at least 12 hours prior to victim using said car.

This can also be done with a household air-conditioner unit, leave rotting fish outside the external air-conditioner motor.

April Fools Profession prank 1: School Teacher.
Create a surprise test for your students. Make it multiple choice.
Have every answer as “C”.

April fools intermediate guide number 15:

Get a large zip-lock bag, fill it full of chocolate sauce. Close most but not all of the zip-lock bag.
Then place the bag full of chocolate sauce into your victims pillow.
Theoretically what should happen is when pressure from the victims head is applied to the pillow, it should rupture the bag open and leave a delicious mess.

April Fools Profession prank 2: TV Journalist.
Replace the word “Now” with “Meow”.
Deliver it still with a professional and set forth demeanour.

April fools simplicity guide number 16:

Open the bottom of a cereal box carefully, and close it whilst resting it on a table. Open up the bag of cereal and pour all its contents into the box. Proceed to carefully place the cereal box into wherever it is kept.
Theoretically what should happen is when the victim goes to retrieve the cereal, the box should then open up from the bottom and spill all its contents everywhere.

April Fools Profession prank 3: Chef.
Replace all Avocado’s and Guacamole pastes with Wasabi.
Simple.

April fools advanced guide number 17:

Buy a large 2litre bottle of Diet Coke, Diet Pepsi, Coke Zero or Pepsi Max and a packet of Mint Mentos. Get a needle and thread and proceed to insert the needle through a mentos mint. Once pu…shed through to the other side, make a tight knot.
Open up a bottle of the purchased soft drink and place the Mentos into the bottle cap, whilst holding onto the thread. Proceed to screw the cap back on, making sure to have the mentos NOT visible and the thread protruding outside of the bottle.
Then cut the thread on the outside of the bottle and place it into wherever it is kept (also try and cut the thread so that there are no visible outer marks).

Theoretically what should happen is when the victim reaches for the bottle of soft drink, they should then open the cap releasing the mentos straight into the drink, causing a chemical reaction and subsequent “Cola fountain”.


So there you have it. A long read showing you the sheer brilliance that is my trolling brain. It was a damn shame that I had no energy to do anything crazy in pranks today for April Fools, but if I managed to inspire someone to go ahead and do one of these pranks, then whatever pride shit fits here. Fuck you.

- Seb

So it has been a very long time since I contributed anything to Girls Bike, I’ve just been busy dealing with living and dealing with circumstance. I’m sure to come round and create the twisted stories and sagas that make you all want to follow, but for now, watch me enjoy scrubbing off something from my bucket list….

Sexual Harassment Sandwich

Recently I’ve been fairly busy doing something most people should do, and that’s living. That’s right, I’ve been getting out among the world and freaking living. The descendents put it best when they yelled the line of “I’ve been living this Walter Mitty life for too long” and as a result of wanting to break a lifeless mould, I’ve been active in doing things that can only be summed up as awesome. So as a result I have been neglecting grrrls bike by accident, but I’m sure in your heart there a small spot or zone where you easily forget smelly punks as myself.

But I assure you as a result of this living, there is a new set of awkward stories and weird and hilarious situations, like the next story which I like to call:

Sexual Harassment Sandwich

It was 10am on a Wednesday and I had to meet my mother in Parramatta for breakfast, before driving her to a swagger of material shops for her alterations racket that she has running from her house at the central coast. It was a bright hot summer morning, I was feeling tired from a maximum of 4 hours sleep from having too much fun the night before, but the prospect of a free breakfast always fuels reasons to attack the world at such an early hour. We met on the bottom floor of a mega shrine to consumerism mall and settled on sandwiches to start the day.

We walked over to a regular looking sandwich shop where I looked upon the boards to choose the sliced bread meal of my liking. When the woman running the store came up and asked;

“So what are you having this morning sexy?”

‘Huh?’ I instantly thought. Did she say that? Sexy? What? Me? Huh? I was instantly caught off guard. The woman was in her mid 40’s, wearing a hairnet and apron with coke bottle glasses on. I just responded with a confused look, jaw dropped to the floor and a loss of thought in relation to my choice of sandwich… which was Turkey on Turkish bread, but that’s beside the point! My mother who was next to me just laughed it off, whilst I turned red from slight embarrassment. The shop owner then moved onto my mother and asked;

“So what do you want pretty lady? Is this your son? Pretty woman makes sexy son!”

Where the crap was this shit coming from? I would’ve been much sharper in snapping back some quips that would’ve zinged her sass mouth back to the middle ages, but I was just perplexed by this 40 year old woman’s sexual demeanour in relation to a semi hung over punk so early in the morning! Maybe I was too tired to respond and was easily confused from the lack of sleep, but one thing I know for sure… these sandwiches were not going to be made with love, but rather with menopausal hot hands dipped in cranberry sauce.

Eventually I made my order, which was promptly made and then toasted. But with the wait for the sandwich to be crisped to golden brown perfection, I had to endure more crazy advances. The menopausal, coke bottle glasses wearing 40 year old sandwich shop owner was making a chicken schnitzel sandwich for my mother when she asked;

“Is there anything else? A sandwich for a girlfriend perhaps?”

“Err… no. Wait, wha? I mean ye… no? huh? No” I replied, confused and lost colliding into one mixed emotion that was worn so easily on my face. Holy crap! I think there really should be a call to the health inspector at fear of mishandling of cold meats… because this all was getting way out of hand. I just awkwardly stood there not saying a thing at all during the whole transaction, merely because I had no idea what the fudge was going on! I instantly lost my appetite and just paid for my sandwich and quickly skidded off in the opposite direction of the crazy sandwich shop.

I did eventually eat that sandwich, but it had a way of planting awkward thoughts in my head. I felt violated whilst I calmed my hunger pains with the Turkey on Turkish bread, and that is the last thing you want to have in your head whilst eating breakfast. Awkward. Awkward times awkward. I just hope that would just be the extent of that shop owners customer service, because I am never going to be a willing participant to see where that would lead.

“no offence Sydney, but Melbourne is friendlier!”

Sometimes I like to make a point of things, just to get the maximum fun out of things. It can range from asking everyone I meet if they knew that Pastizzi’s are originally from Malta instead of Italy, or to more elaborate schemes that involve action. Why? Merely because it’s a great ice breaker, and it can lead to brilliant stories. A good example was proven one night on the town in Melbourne, when I created a record in order to prove the point in a story I’d like to call:

“no offence Sydney, but Melbourne is friendlier!”

It was a brittle cold night in the middle of August, I was lucky enough to have found myself in Melbourne with my brother Richard (or Ace as I like to call him). We were at home-base enjoying a long lost friend in the form of red wine by the warmth of a brilliant fireplace, when we decided to step onto the uber reliable train network and head into the CBD to enjoy what nightlife Melbourne has to offer.

On our way in we had a casually loud drunken argument about how Melbourne shits over Sydney by the ways of friendly people. I held the point that people in Sydney would ignore you, even if your lying dead on the street corner, whilst in Melbourne; they would at least try to have a conversation with the dead body before moving on from boredom. Whilst Ace held the counter. So in my drunken wisdom I threw down the challenge:

“I bet I can totally high 5 30 people tonight before 2am, just to prove how wrong you are!”

Challenge accepted!

So it was underway, I casually got up on the train and went to all the patrons and high 5’d them. 7 people down, 23 to go. Piece of cake. Ace was beginning to doubt the challenge, I was beginning to curse not putting some form of prize that I could earn!

We stumbled off the train, where I high 5’d two more strangers, cheering on their awesomeness. We walked out onto Flinders street where we got lost looking for a certain pub, so I decided to then ask some street beat cops for help. I staggered up and asked for directions, which they gave easily, I then asked for a lift via piggy back to which they laughed and said no. Three more high 5’s were exchanged between me and the boys in blue and away we went.

18 high 5’s left. This challenge was proving to be too easy. 

The rest of the night from then on was a blur, due to savvy friends with bottomless wallets buying drinks and willing punks to devour said savvy drinks. Even though I did party and drink a large portion of my memory into the abyss, all I can remember was the final tally of high 5’s; since my courageous confidence was blasting me way into overdrive, pursuing high 5’s from any stranger in the closest vicinity.

65 people all up high 5’d a stranger in the dark cold streets of Melbourne. What a record! I plan to break that next time I’m there again, and maybe to try this record in Sydney to prove a larger point. But either way, both cities are amazing for their reasons, but Melbourne won over that night because it was a willing participant in a casual drunken social experiment. No offence Sydney, but prove me wrong, prove me wrong!

Vampire kissing a pierced stranger.

It’s only the 7th of January of 2011, a mere few days into the year, a solemn 168 hours in, a sleepy 10,080 minutes along, a yawnable 604,800 seconds into this spectacle…. and I’ve already made a fucking tit of myself! Way to freaking go, Seb! It seems like I can’t last a few days without a quirky story or odd situation exploding in my perimeter and forcing me to practise my MacGyver action dives to avoid unwanted outcomes.

So it was settled, I was meeting my grrrl at Newtown park, under our regular tree to hang out and enjoy the company of one another before dinner. What a great idea, I parked my car near the park and walked a small stretch to our spot. As I was waking up to the meeting spot, I saw her, she was lying on her picnic blanket, the wind covered her face with the corner of the blanket… So I began to sneak up. I tip toed one cautious step before another, trying not to crunch leaves under my shoes. I got to be right next to her. I hunched down. I went to kiss her neck.

But I quickly stopped. And snapped into horror mode.

It wasn’t my girl!

The stranger heard me gasp silently and turned to me, her eyes met mine, I instantly noticed a different hair style, a nose piercing and a surprised look of disbelief aimed squarely at me, your idiotic narrator!

I quickly sprung up and babbled “GAH! Sorry! I confused you for someone else! Sorrysorrysorrysorry!!” and darted off towards my grrrl, who was only a few more paces away, wearing almost the same clothing and lying on a picnic blanket that is almost identical!

Instantly I meet up with the true grrrl I was seeing and told her the story, and tried hard not to allow my flustered cheeks get the best of me. She laughed. She laughed so hard, that it put me to ease. She laughed so hard, that I couldn’t help but join in too. Because in all reality, it’s not everyday where you get a chance to covertly almost vampire kiss an absolute stranger and get away with it!

But for freaks sake, why does this crap always happen to me? Oh well, at least I can relax at night thinking that if ever I become a vampire, I might be damn well good at it!

The time capsuled mix tape….

Today I just slotted into my tape player a tape from ages back, I think this tape was made in 1999… so it was a shock to listen to the stuff that I thought was awesome then, because it can go either way nowadays, it can be a mix of killer stuff that is pure win, or it can suck a huge bag of ass from terribleness! Sure, my tastes have changed from age and progression, but as they say, you must look into (or in this case, listen) the past to better know the future.

The tape has no labels, I remember that when I was younger I spent ages scratching off the company logos off the tape… Just to give it more of the unbranded professional look. Whatever, that just seems like a waste of time nowadays to me, and maybe because young Seb was more sexually frustrated and occupied himself with trivial things!

I press play. The Akai stereo cassette deck springs into action, cautiously showing me the audio peaks and troughs through the lit needles of the V.U. meter.

The tape warbles, making it sound like a dyslexic DJ mucking around with the treble knob on speed, but the first track was clear and distinct ‘blink 182: what’s my age again?’, followed by ‘fuel: shimmer”. Fuck yeah, I thought, this is going to be a good trek down memory lane, and it’s starting out strong for sure! This was followed by some Ben Folds Five and the Offspring. I was still loving it, I thought to myself that I still had the knack of listening to good shit then! This was followed by ‘Korn: got the life’ which is not bad, followed by a terrible pop track by a now defunct group called ‘s.o.a.p’ with a crappy dance floor anthem called ‘this is how we party’. The tape was turning on me, it was playing songs I’ve been trying to forget and ignore forever… then it happened:

Will Smith - Wild Wild West.

I think the very last thing I heard in relation to that tape was it being thrown out of my second story window into the abyss of the night and crashing apart on the concrete grounds that are the road outside and getting crushed by a passing car. I think I’ll forgive my past young self for listening to stuff like that, merely because he was trying hard to fit in… but come on! I’m glad I stopped there, because who knows what Side B was like?

My resolution: to be more annoying.

Happy new year to all. I hope that everyone had a new years eve party that was borderline evil in it’s devilish fun! I know I did. Yet one thing is sticking out of my mind and that is the resolution, what would be a good resolution that can be made that won’t be broken so easily? I know last year I tried to do a photo a day and that fell by the wayside quickly since I was shooting on film and am broke at the same time! So I think I came to the resolution instead of:

Be a squeaky wheel that gets the grease!

What the fuck does that mean? Does it mean that I want to be a machine of some sort and get all greasy from mechanics wanting to change my filters? Hells to the no. Is it some sort of metaphor like trying to find god? Sorry, wrong again! It basically means that I’ll be more active in being a pain in the ass to things, people and situations. Because some days you could let a moment win and take you over in a cloud of defeat, but if you decide to stand your ground and vocalize your demands…. Then to you go the spoils!

Ok, let me demonstrate an example; yesterday my phone carrier service sent me a text saying: your bill for $441.06 is ready for payment after my mini stroke and casual recovery period, I called them up and complained, merely because I’m not a 16 year old socialite little grrrl who is constantly on her phone! I was passed onto a lovely woman from India who just started her shift: Operator: can I help you? Seb: I hope you can freaking help me, help me know why the fuck I’m in debt by half a grand? Operator: so this is a billing enquiry? Seb: you better believe it!

I was put on hold instantly, and five minutes later after the annoying waiting music was burrowing into my skull, the operator appeared again with all my details. We continued to squabble about what went wrong and found out I was on a lesser plan that I destroyed so easily, and that the dicks who arranged my contract fucked up so easily that I don’t need to worry about my debt and that I should be completely OK.

So the moral? Your resolution should be something attainable and life altering, something that won’t be dismissed easily and can be a snap to contain. And with that in mind, if my resolution fuels more crazy stories in this crazy blog where shit usually hits the fan on a hilarious level…. so freaking be it! Happy New Year everyone!

Merry Christmas you bastard!

I hope all the lines at the malls, the constant droll of carols, the work parties (and awkward drunken situations that come with it), the cheesy cardigan gifts, the tasteless fruit cake, the awkward Santa jokes, the abundance of foods, the dry catered turkey, the “you shouldn’t have!” gift acting, the put on smiles with jerk like people, the tone deaf carollers, the charity heart string tuggers, the odd dinner conversations with family, the painful Disney Christmas specials, the tasteless stocking stuffing sexual references, the egg nog dizzy spells, the uncle with too much festive cheer in the form of a 3/4 down of Chivas Regal, the forced kissing of unwashed freaks standing underneath mistletoe, the disgruntled grinch friends, the reindeer ears, the rudolph reindeer stories, the Santa search, the boring metaphor of the Christmas tale, the celebrity video messages, the thin dudes wearing a Santa suit with a perfectly positioned punchable pillow in the gut, the vision blinding houses with too many lights, the almost calling for an ambulance fall whilst placing the star/angel on the top of the tree and the tinsel sprinkles all over your clothing have truly made you full of the festive and merry cheer.

So from the very bottom of my heart, I hope that your festivus/hannukah/kwanza/winter solstice/christmas is full of happiness, love and cheer (spent with those you love and care about). I hope you get those gifts that can only be summarised as brilliance in ribbon and wrap, and that you stay safe and awesome to explosively enjoy 2011 in style!

Thankyou for making 2010 a great year by reading and enjoying Girls bike. I owe you one, and I promise I’ll try to find you that pony you always wanted (and maybe, just maybe, continue with the stories and strange situations that litter my life in this blog!).

And finally… I’m really sorry for that Girls/Boys bike your parents bought you, they really didn’t mean it, there was a mistake in the shipping.

Lots of love and hugs

-Seb