#16: Don’t –

January 1, 2011

… do New Year’s resolutions.

They are a dangerous waste of time.

For example:

Last year my brother resolved to “not take any shit from anyone, anymore”.

Then he went to the video shop to hire a DVD. He took it home and put it in his DVD player. He pressed play. But it wouldn’t play. So he tried another DVD player. It wouldn’t play. So he tried every device he owned that played DVDs. It wouldn’t play.

So he took it back to the shop, but they didn’t believe him when they said it wouldn’t play. Nor were they going to refund his money.

Remembering his new year’s resolution, he decided to argue the point. And, in what was meant to be the dramatic punctuation to his final demand for them to “Go Fuck Yourselves, Then!”, he threw the DVD down on the counter.

Unfortunately, as he did so, the case came open and the DVD flew out like a ninja throwing star in search of a store clerk’s forehead.

Then the police turned up.

And now he’s banned from the only Video store in the Northern Wairoa.

Which is an unfortunate resolution.


#15: Don’t –

September 3, 2010


My daddy was a cowboy. He came up with this crazy saying about having to get back on a horse if it threw you off.

Well, I thought he was a cowboy. Years later I discovered he actually went around inseminating cows. But that’s another story.

This story is about the time I was little and the horse bucked me off.

“You have to get back on the horse that threw you off,” he’d say.

So, despite the tears, he put me back on the horse. It immediately galloped off, bucking wildly. Jumped a couple of ditches. I hung in there, screaming. But I hung in there.

My dad was proud. But to this day, I still can’t be around Shetland ponies.

Anyway, the point of the lesson here is: if a horse bucks you off, just shoot the fucking thing.

That’s what the beach trek guy that we sold Follyfoot to ended up having to do when she bucked him off. It was the final straw that nearly broke his back.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it think twice.

Also, dads can be pricks sometimes.

#14: Don’t –

March 23, 2010

Combine chicken soup and technology.

I mean, chicken soup’s fine on its own. Technology is fine on its own.
But when the two meet, it always ends in heartbreak. Sort of similar to when toilet bowls and technology meet. Or when tumble dryers/washing machines and technology meet.

So to recap:

Work bag
+ chicken soup in container
– dodgy lid
+ digital dictaphone with hundreds of unbacked-up snippets of song ideas
= 😦

#13: Don’t –

February 8, 2010

Let the door hit you on the way out.

Yeah, I know, i know …it is pretty funny watching a bird fly into a window or glass door and knock itself out.
But I was leaving a party on the weekend and mistook a plate glass panel next to an open door for the open door and I tried walking through the glass panel that I thought was the open door, but it wasn’t an open door, it was a plate glass window thing.
And I then realized that the only thing that hurts worse than full-on headbutting a plate glass window is the sting of the laughter of those who heard the crunch and witnessed you bounce off of what you thought was an open door.

And the only thing less funny than that was that I was carrying a baby in my arms at the time.

Still, probably wasn’t as bad as that time my friend severed her nose running through a ranchslider door. For the record, I don’t advise doing that either.

#12: Don’t –

November 13, 2009

Forget that Shit Happens.

Cos somewhere between the last kid and the arrival of this new one, I somehow totally forgot that Babies = Nappies.

Thankfully, my wife reminded me by saving the meconium change for me. And then I was staring down at that first soiled nappy and found myself thinking: Oh, Damn. This Shit Again.

#11: Don’t –

July 25, 2009

Knock it till you’ve tried it.

A good friend of mine, whom I used to work with, took up drinking Regular Soy Flat Whites just before he stopped working where I work, which I thought was kinda gay, but he’s not around anymore and I was thinking about him today… not in a gay way … no I was thinking how he used to drink Regular Soy Flat White coffees … and how that was gay … and then I thought, well that’s a little unfair… maybe I should try one, just to, you know… see what it’s like, and stuff.
So I whispered my order to the cute check out coffee girl.
She yelled out my order when it was ready and SHAME, everyone turned and looked and it felt like I’d been outted or something and I scuttled away with my baseball cap pulled down low over my head.

How was it?

Not entirely unpleasant.
Bits of it reminded me of musky old billy goat, though. Not in an animal-molestation way. No. I mean, the taste of drinking bits of it in part reminded me of how horny old wild woolly mountain goats smell. I don’t know why. Perhaps it has something to do with the way they milk the Soy goats, or cows, or whatever the fuck Soy actually is.

But anyway, my point is, I’ve tried it, and now I’m knocking it.


#10: Don’t –

July 15, 2009

Need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

Yeah. That dick made a liar of my wife. Last night she said Look, It’s Going To Be Fine Tomorrow, but when I looked up at the TV, it was showing the forecast for Hamilton, and I said Are You Sure, Because Hamilton Looks Pretty Pants, and she said, That’s Hamilton, You Missed the Forecast For Auckland, It’s Going To Be Fine, It’s Gonna Be Fine, Baby, and I said Really, Because Earlier In The Week They Said It Was Going To Rain For The Rest Of The Week, and she said Yeah, But Now They’re Saying It’s Gonna Be Fine-As, and I said Sweeeeet.

But you know what? I cycled to work today in the motherfucking rain. She said it was going to be sunny, because they said it was going to be sunny, but I really should have just looked out the window before getting all ready and leaving the house this morning, because it wasn’t sunny, no it wasn’t sunny at all.

Which was a… disappointment.

Not as disappointing, mind you, as that time we got married during that heat wave and the weatherman said it wasn’t going to rain for aaages, and, of course it didn’t, except for the day of our wedding, and I’m still not sure what’s ironic about that, but I’m sure I’ll work it out someday.

Fuck you, Alanis.