I Blogged Myself

Why do you always come here? I guess we'll never know. It's like a kind of torture, To read this blog, y'know.

Welcome to the most sensational, inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational blog since Kermit left just a little bit of the swamp in his pants.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

So Who Are The People In My Neighbourhood?

”They’re the people that you meet / when you’re walking down the street / They’re the people that you meet each day.”

As delightful and chirpy as it may sound when Sesame Street veteran Bob McGrath happily sings the above song on TV, it doesn’t quite live up to the reality … at least not in my neighbourhood.

Let’s start with the people who live in the three units behind our house. We own (courtesy of the bank’s mortgage) the original house on the property, but the three units behind us were added at some point in the 70s. In Unit 2 lives an old woman who’s generally pretty good as a neighbour; she’s also an owner-occupier. In Unit 3 lives a young guy (a renter) who recently moved his girlfriend/fiancée in with him. In Unit 4 lives another old woman who’s also an owner-occupier. More on each of them later. But to start with, let’s consider them as a group.

The woman who lives in Unit 2

Wednesday night is bin night (note to self: Wednesday night is bin night), and each week, WITHOUT FAIL, the young renting guy and the two old woman who make up our back-neighbours bring their bins out and place them directly underneath the tree on the nature strip.

Sound fair enough? Well, not if you know the whole picture and think it through. It’s a large tree with low-hanging branches … and our rubbish is collected by a side-loading rubbish truck on Thursday mornings. Think about that for a moment. Why do these three never realise that they’re forcing the garbage truck to lift their bins directly into the overhanging branches of the big tree? Because I’m the lucky duck who lives at the front of the property, I’m the one who’s always left to pick up the broken branches off the nature strip and footpath on Thursday evenings when I get home and place them in MY green bin. The others all come along, take their bins away (although this can take almost a full week with the renting guy and the woman in Unit 4), and NO ONE SEEMS TO NOTICE that where they’re leaving their bins is causing problems for the garbage collectors, broken branches for the tree, and clean-up work for me! I always place my bin on the ‘uncovered’ section of the property frontage – a whole two metres further along from where the others place theirs – and have never had any problems. How difficult is it to see the stupidity of where they all leave their bins?! What does it take? A note from the weirdo in Unit 1 telling them all they’re idiots for leaving their bins under a tree and leaving ME to clean up the mess they make? I might be annoyed about it, but I don’t want to be universally loathed over it.

Pretty little bins, all in a row

Next we take a look at our letterboxes. All four of our letterboxes are built into the same brickwork, and the mortar in the thing has all-but-rotted away, allowing for the backs of our letterboxes to break off. The mailman (bless him) is anything but careful when he stuffs our letters into the things, and has been responsible for breaking three of the four letterboxes, mine included (naturally). He’s been known to fold and scrunch our mail (I’m not talking about toilet paper habits, here) and force it into the slot until it all falls out the back and starts to blow around the yard and out onto the street. He seems fine with this. It drives me nuts.


Back to the residents of the units behind us: The renters in Unit 3 are the sorts of people who give renters around the globe a bad name. They have friends over at all hours, who then walk down to their cars in the street in the middle of the night, completely disregarding the units they’re walking past, yelling and laughing at the top of their voices and beeping their horns as they squeal away – at 3am.

The couple in Unit 3

The guy (who has lived there now for over a year) used to drive a small truck; the sort of moving truck you can hire for yourself for the weekend. And instead of parking it on the street like a sensible person, he used to drive it up the communal driveway, breaking branches off all the trees and shrubs that line the driveway, and then wake us all at 6am when he reversed back down to the street with the loud BEEP-BEEP-BEEP noise that reversing trucks make. Thankfully, he no longer drives the truck.*

* And I SWEAR I had nothing to do with slashing the tyres!

Additionally, the renting guy’s fiancée is a cantankerous soul. We recently had some problems with the communal sewer line. Somewhere out in the nature strip a tree root had broken through the pipe and was blocking the contents from swimming happily away. Instead, it was backing up and overflowing in our backyard (another delightful consequence of living in the first unit). This meant that our backyard was slowly filling up with toilet paper and human waste every time someone in any of the four units flushed their toilet or used any water. The smell of fecal matter was quite repulsive and getting stronger by the hour. When the plumber told us he’d be out the following day, I politely told the residents about the problem and asked them to see what they could do about keeping their water usage to a minimum until the next morning. Everyone was okay with this except the fiancée of the guy in Unit 3, who snapped at me that she’d be using the water however much she damn well wanted; I couldn’t expect her not to shower in the morning and use the dishwasher at night. I didn’t react, but it made me mad. Using the dishwasher is a necessity?! Even going one morning without a shower wouldn’t hurt you. But I hadn’t even asked for anything specific to be skipped, so her carelessness and inconsideration of the position the three units were placing us in with our backyard had me incensed. Her attitude was completely unreasonable. I’d like to see how she’d have coped if (a) she was the one in the front unit at the time, and (b) she owned the place rather than rented it. She’d have been screaming bloody murder at the rest of us to move into a hotel until it was fixed, rather than go to the toilet and have the pipes spew the contents up onto our back patio and grass area. Especially not when we’ve got two cats, who are curious by nature. True, the grass grew nice and strong in the weeks after the pipe was fixed.

”I’ll put the dishwasher on if I bloody well want to!”

Another anecdote that relates to the deadbeat renter in Unit 3 is that he’s had a deadbeat car sitting idle in the street since September. It died for some reason and was wheeled down the communal driveway and onto the road by himself and a friend (I saw him doing it), and it has been there ever since. Being a safe and secure sort of neighbourhood, within a week the back window on the driver’s side had been smashed in, and presumably some items were stolen (or perhaps the thieves had hopes of driving off in the vehicle until they realised it wouldn’t start). In any event, for about a week it sat there with a smashed rear window, shattered glass sprinkled on the road around it and jagged shards of glass sticking out of the window frame. Eventually, he came down and cleaned up the glass, but the car – complete with smashed in rear window – has not moved since. This includes the rainstorms we’ve had, the hail on Christmas Day, and the intense heat of this summer. Possums are probably using the car as shelter during the night, and I’m sure the occasional passing drunks (see below) have had their merry way with the vehicle from time to time. I’ve noticed that the rego runs out in March, so if it’s still there then, I’ll be making an anonymous call to the council. It’s in the way and it’s a useless rust bucket that should have been dealt with months ago.

Anybody wanna buy a used car?

Because I’m a funny guy, I placed a note under the wiperblade the other day that read: “Dear owner, I’m not sure if you know this, but your rear window has been smashed.” (Remember, it hasn’t moved for over five months.) I’m sure the subtleties of the understatement will be lost on him.

The house to our left (as we look out towards the street) is owned by a mysterious older couple who never seem to venture outside. It’s possible that one or both of them are dead. The only interaction I’ve ever had with them is when I chased their cat (a feral mongrel who attacks our lovely peaceful cats in our own backyard) back onto his property. I didn’t actually encounter them, but they knew I was there. I was fuming mad (their cat had caused $150 worth of damage to my male cat’s eye – and he nearly lost his sight – after it attacked him outside our backdoor), but the feral cat’s owners had no idea and obviously didn’t care if their pet was terrorising the neighbourhood. I love cats, but I hate feral cats. Like the renters in Unit 3 who give all renters a bad name, it’s feral cats like this one that make non-cat owners loathe ALL cats, which is highly unfair because I’ve only ever owned gorgeous cats who were loving and obedient and considerate and wonderful. My cats stay in our backyard, and they don’t go out hunting animals and/or causing a nuisance in other people’s yards. I spent many an evening as I put special ointment in my injured cat’s eye for three months, dreaming of somehow trapping the feral cat in a cage and pouring boiling water over it.

Bad doggie

I’d love to have let the feral cat’s owners have a piece of my mind – as a cat lover, I hated how their poor ‘parenting’ of their cat was making matters worse for cat haters and cat lovers everywhere – but again, I didn’t want to go overboard and have my house egged when I wasn’t home.

The house to our right is occupied by a young woman who likes to keep to herself and not talk to anyone. Our communal driveway separates her nature strip from our nature strip, and she’s quite adament that nothing of ours is ever place on her side of the driveway. Once, one of my neighbours from the units behind me (I don’t know which one) placed their bin out on the curb for collection, slightly to the RIGHT of our driveway (ie. technically on her section of nature strip by about thirty centimetres). I noticed it there and remembering wondering if that would be the beginning of the end for the broken tree branches on a Thursday morning (even if whoever it was hadn’t bothered to walk it a few metres further to left, in front of our own property). About half an hour later, when I brought my own bin out, I was amused to note that the bin had been moved to the middle of our driveway, and her bin was now where the other bad been. In other words, she had decided to make a very definite statement about how welcome our bins were on her side of the driveway. She’d actually gone to the trouble of bringing her bin all the way from her own driveway, across the entire length of her property, just so she could pointedly place it on the spot where the other bin had been sitting. And just in case the lesson had been missed, she moved the offending bin into the middle of our driveway, where it would no doubt catch our attention (or damage our cars if we didn’t notice it in time). Because I wasn’t part of this little argument, I took great pleasure in making matters worse by turning her bin around in the dead of night so the truck couldn’t pick it up the following morning. I don’t actually know what became of that incident, but there were never any follow-on effects of her little spat with the bins. I presume she was irked by her bin not being emptied that week, but I only did it to amuse myself by making someone who’s angry a little bit angrier. She probably presumed it was whoever’s bin she’d moved, but couldn’t prove it so she had to let it be.

She doesn’t like to be seen (always shutting her blinds when we’re out the front), and sings quite loudly when she’s in the shower. We can hear her through her tiny bathroom window; I don’t peek.

”Don’t look at me!”

Snobby neighbours aside, our street is also often graced with a rowdy group a passing drunks. Usually – but not exclusively – passing through on weekends, this group of seven or eight morons in their late teens to early twenties will use our street to cut through to the local 24-hour bottle shop from where they live, which I think is just a few streets away. That’s fine, I’m not a total crank, but when their trips lead them up our street in the dead of night, and they continue to completely disregard that anyone on the quiet street may actually be sleeping at 4am, it really gets me angry. Especially when they’re either yelling obscenities at each other, laughing and mucking around, or (occasionally) involved in a domestic dispute.

”I can’t wait until we’re old enough to vote!”

That’s right, there’s often at least one girl with them (her shrill and piercing voice is clearly identified over the guys’ voices), and once in a while she will be screaming for her life while one or more guys are seemingly pulling on her arms like they’re in a tug-o-war match. Never fear, I always listen to see if anyone’s in any trouble or at risk (so far no), but usually I’m just pissed off to be woken AGAIN by the same loud bunch of inconsiderate losers. If you want to drink all night and have a good time, I’m happy for you and have no problem with that. But if you’re going to meander through the streets of suburbia and wake everyone in your path (including Sunday nights, when people have to work the next day), then you’re a stupid, thoughtless individual who doesn’t deserve to live as part of Society – and perhaps you need to be neutered, just to make the point. (Don’t get in the way of my sleep!)

Closely related to the group of passing drunks (but not to be confused for them), is a young guy who surely lives with his family (although I’ve never noticed them) across the road from us and up two houses to the right. This young guy si constantly throwing parties, and his friends all fill the street with their cars and drunken ramblings late into the night. I generally don’t mind this as much as the passing drunks for two reasons: (1) They don’t stay there into the wee hours keeping us awake, and (2) I know where they live if sneaky retaliation is ever called for. But there was one exception about two years ago to me not minding this guy’s parties. The day one of his friends used our driveway to turn around, backed into my mate’s car (who was standing at the door with me as we watched the drunken kids say goodbye to each other in the street), and then tear off out of there instead of stopping. My mate (who happens to be a lawyer) was immediately on the phone to the police as I raced outside to try and get the kid’s licence plate number. All his mates were laughing hysterically at their friend for smashing a car and driving off … that is, until they saw me running towards them. Not realising, in their drunken state, that their voices were carrying down the quiet street at night (which is why my mate and I had been standing at our door watching them in the first place – we happened to be seeing what all the noise was as the accident occurred), they all started shhhing each other. I asked them for the name of their friend who’d just driven away, and one of them said, “What friend? I don’t know who that was.” This was the guy I’d seen bear-hugging the driver goodbye before he got in his car. It didn’t matter. My mate was talking to the police about the hit-and-run that had just happened, so I returned to my house, hearing the kids laughing and talking about “tricking that loser” as loudly and clearly as if I was standing right next to them. To his credit, the kid who lives there wasn’t in the street at the time, and moments later (obviously after someone filled him in on what had happened), he turned up at our door and apologised for the accident. When my mate told him the police were already on their way, the kid rang the driver on his mobile. As the mobile was so loud, we all heard the following exchange take place with crystal clarity:

Kid: Hey mate, what happened?

Driver: (laughing) I hit a car, man!

Kid: I know, are you coming back, dude?

Driver: No way! Mum’ll kill me!

Kid: Dude, you gotta come back, the owners are here with me.

Driver: Did they see it?

(At this point my mate and I laughed derisively – my mate in particular knowing how this conversation was stitching the driver up if the matter ever went to court. I’m not sure if the driver heard us laugh, but the kid in the room with us was visibly uncomfortable that we could hear the stupid things the driver was saying.)

Kid: Dude, yes they did. They’ve already called the cops. You gotta get back here.

Driver: <BEEP>! Okay, I’m coming.

In the end, the driver returned to the scene of the accident, but got there moments before the police (who wouldn’t cancel the call-out once it was made – we tried). In addition to hitting another car and driving away without stopping, he was charged with drunk driving (for he was, indeed, inebriated). Apparently he was driving his Mum’s fancy new car without her permission, so he was certainly going to pay for trying to speed off without stopping. Oh, and he wasn’t insured to be driving her BMW. The kid who lived there has held fewer parties than he used to, ever since this event took place, even though we wished him no personal ill and in fact thanked him for helping to get his friend back so my mate’s car could be fixed by the other driver’s insurance (although my mate’s insurance agency had to get the money for the repairs out of the driver’s parents). Obviously the kid knew that if he was hosting the party where the hit-and-run had happened, he’d be in trouble if he didn’t sort it out.

”Yo, party at my crib – tonight, ho!”

But I’ve saved the best two stories until last …

First, we have the crazy old woman who lives in Unit 4. There are multiple scenarios I’ll be talking about with her. She lives alone and enjoys telling you long-winded stories about how she used to be a psychologist and her children now live in Perth and Hobart. Unfortunately, it’s always the psychologists who go the most ‘loco’ in their old age*, and she’s no exception. To start with, she has dementia. Her children each live within five minutes of us, and have never at any stage lived in either Perth or Hobart. But you don’t want to get stuck talking to her in the driveway, because she doesn’t take the hint about ending a conversation. Once started, she has no memory of when or how it began, meaning that she will continue to talk to you – and often about the same thing – for hours and hours if you don’t get away from her, because she doesn’t know how long you’ve already been talking. She takes in stray cats (at last count we think she has about four), and locks them in her unit with her, never letting them out. As she has poor eyesight, a bad memory and apparently no sense of smell, she seems to be totally unaware that her unit stinks to high heaven of cat urine. On the few occasions I’ve had to go to her door to talk to her, I’ve been repulsed and felt physically sick by the smell emanating through her wire-screen door. It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife. I don’t know how the cats survive in there (maybe they actually don’t), but the poor things are clearly living in their own filth. Occasionally the smell follows her, so you can be standing on the street, having been trapped on the footpath as you got out of your car while she was out for a walk, and find yourself having to hold your breath while she rabbits on and on about absolutely nothing, … because her personal perfume of choice is Catzpish ™ - a smell I can heartily advise against anyone ever marketing.

* Source: “It’s Always The Psychologists Who Go The Most ‘Loco’” (Journal) edited by Dr Helen Back, published in 2004 by UNICEF.

Just the other week I was approached by the crazy old woman from Unit 4 who asked me about the water restrictions – what time could she water her garden? Now, you need to know that she doesn’t actually HAVE a garden. She has concrete and brick paving, with a few token flowers in pots next to her front door. But that doesn’t stop her from getting the hose out and watering the concrete non-stop for hours on end. We all know it’s due to her dementia and it’s no use trying to tell her (so we haven’t bothered, even though the water wastage upsets me no end), but clearly someone must have dobbed on her. The very fact that she knew there were water restrictions was a clear sign that someone had rung her up or posted her a warning. When I told her she could only water her ‘garden’ between 6pm and 8pm at night (and a couple of hours in the morning), she seemed aghast. After mentioning her son and daughter in Perth and Hobart again, she returned to the topic and again asked me what times she could water her garden. That’s the kind of conversation you normally have with her. So I went inside, photocopied the fridge magnet of water restriction information the government sent out, and took a copy of it up to her unit. Unfortunately this meant I was trapped in a never-ending looped conversation with her at her stinky doorway, but thankfully she couldn’t find her keys to unlock the door so I was spared being invited inside. I slid the sheet of water restriction information under the door, and as she read it, she asked the same question again about water her garden. Twice. After explaining it to her both times, I finally broke free of the conversation and walked back to the smell-free confines of my house … only to be interrupted two hours later by a knock at the front door. It was her again, asking me the same dam question about watering her garden. She had no memory of asking me the other four times, and didn’t know anything about the piece of paper I’d taken up to her a couple of hours earlier. Each time I told her the times were 6pm to 8pm, she repeated the times in amazement that anyone would have to wait that long to water their concrete and brick paving area. I pretended to share her amazement and shut the door.

The crazy old cat-wee lady from Unit 4

Clearly her dementia is a serious problem, and I’m not trying to make light of it. But with her grown children avoiding her at all costs (her daughter once told us they had to change their phone number because of all the ‘nuisance calls’ they were getting, as she indicated her mother with a nod of her head), it’s no wonder she think they live interstate. Their attitude is best summed up by something the daughter once told the woman in Unit 2: “We don’t want her to keep bothering us all the time; if something’s ever wrong, we hear about it from you.” This theory is all well and good until you consider that we’re her NEIGHBOURS and the daughter is her FAMILY! Why should WE be forced to deal with her daily problems? What happens when Unit 4 burns to the ground when a cat (trapped inside and starved because it hasn’t been fed in a week) knocks over a heater (that’s been left on for two months) onto a pile of papers (that are congregating in every available space in her unit) and she can’t find her keys to get out the front door? Not to mention the risk we’d all have of one unit burning to the next and taking them all down (at least mine is furthest away from hers!). Every time she has an issue, she comes to one of us instead of her family looking after her! There’s something wrong with that picture. I’m more-than-happy to be a caring neighbour (I believe that neighbours should be there for one another; that’s when good neighbours become good friends, after all), but when the woman’s own family wants nothing to do with her – and she’s clearly such a sick lady in serious need of constant care and (presumably) medication, they’ve really got to pull their finger out and deal with their own issues … rather than leaving them for the woman’s neighbours to cope with.

Finally, we have the family who moved in directly across the street from us. The family who lived there before them was a nice, quiet family who kept to themselves and never caused any issues in the street. Much like the Kennedy family. But the family who moved in is far, far worse than the Timmins family.

The mother is a chain-smoking drinker who only ever wears a dressing gown and screams at her kids on the front lawn to come inside and clean up. She never does any work herself, because she’s constantly sitting on the patio, drinking. The kids are actually bearable, although with the upbringing they’re getting, I worry for their futures. The husband is the pick of the litter. Obviously an ex-bikie, he is large, bald and mean. He owns four semi-trailers (yes, four), and parks two in their small driveway and two on the street. One constantly has a ‘4 Sale’ sign attached to it. He likes to sit in the truck’s cabin when he gets home from work, smoking a cigarette and revving the engine repeatedly, occasionally honking the horn when he wants someone to come out of the house and bring him a beer. He does this – quite seriously – for hours. We’ve seen him sit in his truck with the motor running (truck engines are LOUD, remember – even if you’re NOT blowing the horn for beer and skittles every half hour), from 4pm when he gets home from work, all the way through to 10pm when he finally went inside. I don’t know if he was having a fight with his wife or what it was, but it was disturbing to see the tiny red light of the cigarette ash burning away in the darkness all night long.

“Honey, I think the guy across the street is home …”

Perhaps not surprisingly, he has a violent temper; we always hear him screaming at his wife and kids, and then storming out of the house to go sit in his truck for a few hours. He likes to blare the truck horn when he leaves at five in the morning, and he enjoys conducting welding work on his trucks in his driveway and on the street all through the weekend – sparks flying everywhere.

They are loud, obnoxious, scary, uncouth, … and house prices in the street have plummeted a good $100,000 or so since they moved in.

The only shot I could get of the big
mean bikie before he hurt me quite badly

Those are the people in my neighbourhood. Does the area sound familiar? Maybe I’m describing you and or someone from your family, above.

Please don’t get the idea that we spend all our time peering out our curtains at the neighbours like Mrs Kravitz from Bewitched. Clearly that’s not true. Wifey has to do it on her own until I get home from work and join her.


[end rant]

(So … should we move?)


Friday, January 26, 2007

Happy Australia Day!

... especially all you non-Australians.

Have a great day, everyone. Kick back, relax, have a few drinks (if that's what you do).

But drink in moderation. Apparently if you have too much beer, it can leave you with a furry taste in your mouth. Particularly if you drink this brand:



Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Choose Your Own Blogventure

I thought today I'd hand control of 'I Blogged Myself' over to you, the readership.

I have a few posts on the boiler at the moment, but I've been wondering what you most like to read about. I know for most of you it's not actually The Muppets, which is partly why I'm so delighted that you still pop in to read what I have to say.

So what'll it be? I'll keep the voting open until the end of the weekend, and the winning post will appear on Monday, 29th January 2007. Here are your choices:

* A Muppet-themed post.

* A rant about my neighbourhood.

* The cheeky Comment Moderation words Blogger has used.

* A Sweetums Update.

* A CD review.

* A TV meme.

* A post about road rage.

* A joke-image post.

* Other (please specify) *

There'll be an Australia Day post on Friday, but otherwise, look out for the winning post in the new week.

* I can't guarantee that I'll go with whatever's suggested under the title of 'Other'. But I may give it a shot. Depends on what it is. Judge's decision is final, and all that.


Monday, January 22, 2007

Muppet Question # 19 Answered

On Thursday, 18th January, 2007 at 7:43:34 PM, Gigglewick said ...

Bevis, I have a muppets related question:

Is the "gone with the schwinn" the worst gag the muppets ever?

Clearly I vote yes, keen to know if you concur.

Goodness me, no! There were many Muppet puns that were way worse than that! (For the uninformed, Kermit says the above line when he's riding his bicycle towards a steamroller, and manages to jump away just at the last moment - his bike being crushed behind him. He turns to the camera and says, "That's pretty dangerous building a road in the middle of the street. I mean, if frogs couldn't hop, I'd be gone with the Schwinn", which is obviously a play on the famous film, Gone With The Wind. 'Schwinn' is a brand of bicycle.)

Kermit - seen here just moments before
he is almost "gone with the Schwinn".

For comparison's sake, how about some of these corny puns?

Fozzie: Oh, I'm so nervous. If I'm not funny, I won't be able to live with myself.
Dr Bunsen Honeydew: Well, then you'll just have to get another apartment, won't you?

Kermit (greeting Sweetums, who they believe to be called 'Jack', after watching him lift the front of a Volks Wagon and walk it away on its back wheels): Hi, Jack.
Sweetums: Jack not name! Jack: Job!

Kermit: It's too bad the dancing girls are on vacation. This crowd's getting ugly.
Fozzie: If you think this crowd's ugly, you should see the dancing girls.

Paul Simon (offering his help to Pops, who's struggling with the lever to the Muppet Theater trapdoor): "I know fifty ways to love your lever."

Kermit to Miss Piggy (who is known as 'Benjamina' in Muppet Treasure Island): "Don't cry for me, Benjamina."

Fozzie: "The drinks are on the house!"
(Everyone in the bar then runs up on to the roof,
searching in vain for the promised drinks.)

Telly Savalas (talking to his girlfriend about Kermit): "Careful, he'll give you warts!"
Kermit: "Uh, no. That's just a myth."
Telly Savalas: "Yeah, but she's my miss."
Kermit: "No: Myth! Myth!"
Female Passerby With A Prominent Lisp: "Yeth?"
(This joke is repeated later in the same film. Different location, same line, same random woman appearing out of nowhere, same prominent lisp.)

Kermit: "We're gonna have to catch the theives red-handed."
Gonzo: "What colour are their hands now?"
(Another running gag.)

Jeffery Tambor (to Gonzo): "You have no nostrils! How do you smell?"
Rizzo: "Terrible, believe me! I'm his roommate."

Fozzie (telling a joke): "Good grief, the comedian's a bear. -- No he's-a not! He's-a wearin' a neck tie!"

Rowlf the Dog: "I finish work, go home, read a book, have a couple of beers, take myself for a walk and go to bed."

Kermit: "It's no good complainin' and pointless to holler."
Rowlf: "If she's a beauty she'll get under your collar."

Mad scientist Mel Brooks to Miss Piggy,
moments before 'frying' Kermit's brain:
"Soon, you'll be bringing home the bacon!"

Rowlf: "Ah, but what could be better than a saucy Irish setter, when puppy love comes on strong? Or a collie that's classy; a laddie needs a lassie. A lover and wife gives you a new leash on life."

Kermit: "Still, it's fun when they're fetching, and agree to see an etching that you keep at your lily pad."

Rowlf: "Some get an itchin' for a critter they've been scratchin'."

Rowlf (referring to a melancholy Kermit): "It's not often you see a guy that green have the blues that bad."

Kermit: "Y'know, I may be mistaken, but the bellhops look like rats."
Rowlf: "You should see the chambermaids."

Kermit (navigating as Fozzie drives) "Hey Fozzie, I want you to turn left when you get to a fork in the road."
Fozzie: "Yes sir. Turn left at the fork in the road."
(A giant fork, its prongs sticking into the ashphelt, is revealed at a fork in the road)
Fozzie: "Turn left ..."
Kermit (to himself): "I don't believe that."

Kermit (navigating): "Bear left."
Fozzie (driving): "Right frog!"

That'll probably do it. I hope I've made my point. If I've missed any puns that hold a special place in your hearts, gentle readers, please do add them to the mix.


Friday, January 19, 2007

Muppet Question # 18 Answered

On Wednesday, 17th January, 2007 at 3:06:39 PM, Crystal said ...

Muppet Question to Stump The Judges:

which Muppet Show guest star
(of one of the best Muppet Shows)
was charged in 2006 with internetchild pron offences?

Too easy. (For someone like me.) That was hilarious British comedian Chris Langham. As a result of the charges, he was fired from the hit BBC sitcom The Thick Of It (of which he was the star - and which I've been hoping to see come out to Australia for some time now), and the second series will focus on new characters instead of his. If you're interested in reading about his criminal charges, you can find them here. Personally, I'd prefer to talk about his involvement with The Muppet Show:

Chris with some of The Muppets
"in happier times" (ie. during his
guest stint on the show in 1980)

Chris Langham is quite hilarious, which makes the recent allegations all the more tragic (although child pornography is tragic enough in anyone's language, don’t get me wrong). He was renown for being the sole British writer for The Muppet Show; he was hired by Jim Henson on the recommendation of another British Muppet Show guest star, John Cleese. Apparently Henson was trying to bring to the show an element of the wacky, off-the-wall sense of humour the English are so well known for, so Langham was the perfect choice.

Langham also appeared as the special guest star in the thirteenth episode of the final season (1980). The story goes that the actual scheduled guest star, Richard Pryor, was unable to make it to the recording at the last minute, so a script was written in a hurry, wherein "Chris the Delivery Boy" stood in for an unnamed absent celebrity.

As a writer on The Muppet Show, Langham received two awards from the American Writers' Guild.

Other works for which Langham is known include being a writer/performer on the first season of the infamous British sketch show Not The Nine O'Clock News (although his appearances were pointedly cut from later video and DVD releases in favour of Griff Rhys Jones, who had replaced him from the second season on), and sketch series Alas Smith and Jones. It was in the latter that I first noticed his work, and found his minor role (as the dim-witted ‘host’ of the fictitious chat show parody that all but closed each episode) stand-out hilarious.

Langham's inclusion on The Muppet Show writing staff resulted in some inspired bits of silliness, typified by Lewis Kazagger's description of the bagpipe as "one of the deadliest creatures known to man." Another concept frequently attributed to Langham was the entire Muppet Theatre shoving off to sea in one episode.

Actor/writer/comedian Langham
has been embroiled in a rather
nasty affair recently. Trial pending.

But to go back to his guest star stint, this episode saw him perform several pieces of his own devising, including a card trick in which the cards were replaced by raw sausages ("Now I will ask you to memorise that sausage"), as well as singing a Hawaiian war chant while trapped inside his dressing room wardrobe.

He also performed the self-devised Time Machine sketch, a frantic short monologue which he performed in a white lab coat with remarkably Muppet-like enthusiasm:

[Langham leaps onstage.] "Hello! This is what I'm working on at the moment. It's a time travel apparatus! [Evil laughter] Excuse me. If all my calculations are correct, all I have to do is pull this little lever here, and I go travelling backwards through time! [Pulls lever] Time through backwards travelling go I, and here lever little this pull, is do to, have I all, correct are calculations my all if. Me excuse. [Evil laughter] Apparatus travel time a it's! Moment the at on working I'm, what is this, hello!" [Leaps offstage.]

It must be noted that – brilliant and severely underrated comic figure of our time or not - nothing, even celebrity eccentricity, excuses the kind of behaviour for which he has been accused. If the allegations turn out to be true, I hope the full force of the law is dealt out to him. However, if they are false, I hope that justice will prevail, his name will be cleared, and his reputation and career can find their way back on track. They’re terrible allegations to be burdened with if, in fact, they aren’t true, and it will take someone with a far better understanding of the facts than I have, to cast a fair judgement on the matter.

Perhaps you’d like to be the one to cast judgement, Crystal?


Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Muppet Question # 17 Answered

On Wednesday, 17th January, 2007 at 12:35:38 AM, Aussie Rock Chick said ...

Were there really only five seasons??? I thought it ran for like 20 years!! Clearly I have a lot to learn about the world of Muppets...

Yes there were, no it didn't, and yes you do. The good news is: If you keep reading my blog, you will learn all you'll ever need to know about The Muppets (and plenty more you'll never need to know).


Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Muppet Questions # 15 & # 16 Answered

On Friday, 17th November, 2006 at 8:52:02 AM, Riss said ...

Muppet Questions: Which of the three proposed covers for Season 2 of The Muppet Show would you most like to see released? AND If they release Season 2 with three different covers, will you want one of each? :)

As the person who bought me Season One for my birthday, methinks you have ulterior motives for asking this question! Still, I'm not one to stand in the way of a present, so here goes:

The three proposed covers for Season Two of The Muppet Show are pictured below. Personally, I prefer the one on the right, but any of them would look great. The one on the left is a little unflattering for poor ol' Miss Piggy (IMHO), but considering the Season One cover art (for the special release, at least) depicted an extreme close-up of Kermit's chest and collar, perhaps they could continue the trend by featuring an extreme close-up of Fozzie's eyes, ears and hat for Season Three (or perhaps his chest, with his hands holding his polka-dot tie), Gonzo's nose, mouth and eyes for Season Four, and one of Rowlf's ears, along with his mouth and one of his hands for Season Five. More likely, though, would be Season Five featuring Animal's open mouth and sharp teeth (with his metal collar visible beneath his chin), rather than them do the right thing and properly credit Rowlf on the cover of the years where he really was placed in the show's five major characters.

The three possible covers for Season Two.

The Season Two release date has been cancelled and re-scheduled so often that fans have given up bothering to keep track. I don't even know if Disney's going to lock in a new date or not anymore. I was able to find the following article online, dated last October, which seems to indicate that we're only a couple of months away from owning it (although we've heard that before).

The Muppet Show Season 2 slated for early 2007 release

Numerous issues have delayed the DVD box set, but release is expected during the first quarter of 2007

By Greg James
October 29, 2006

Fifteen months ago "The Muppet Show Season 1" was released on DVD, and ever since fans have been asking when they would be able to get their hands on season 2.

Pinning down the release hasn't been simple for Disney. Originally it was slated for February, then bumped to a tentative slot in late Summer and then inexplicably delayed again. Legal clearances, material creation/restoration, marketing schemes, leadership changes, production priority schedules -- the reasons are complex and numerous.

Muppets.com polled fans on which Season 2 cover they'd like to see. The official cover has not yet been announced.

Brain Henson said earlier this year when IGN asked about the Muppet Show Season 2, that "Disney is so formulaic and careful and secretive about their DVD release plans" that even he didn't know when the set would be out.

Back in July Muppets.com launched a poll to allow fans to vote on the cover art for the upcoming second season release. Just a few weeks ago the poll was taken down, and the fans' speculation started up again. What does it mean? Is it coming? Was it canceled? What's going on?

Well, we just got word from a reliable source within Buena-Vista Home Entertainment that there is no need to panic. The set is indeed coming. It's taken a while but it will be worth the wait. We were told they are "expecting release in the first quarter of 2007" (after the holidays' DVD production pushes). They'd like to tell more about it, but everything is "top secret" right now. An official announcement with all the details is around the corner.

The set will be out in 2007 and season 3 is also expected for the future (although there are no details on timing).

As for the question of whether I'd want to buy all three copies if they released the DVD using all of the covers, even I'm not that fanatical! One would be enough. I'd either go with the extreme close-up of Piggy's face (especially if they continued the theme of close-ups with Seasons Three to Five), or with my alternative favourite (the one where she's wearing the black cocktail dress against the blue background).

So which one's your favourite, gentle readers?



Or 'Nose'?


Monday, January 08, 2007

Happy Christmas Leftovers, Everyone!

Christmas is long gone, but the lovin' and the givin' is still goin' strong here at I Blogged Myself - with or without the Gs on the ends of words.

Truth be known, I got an embarrassing amount of presents this year, and many of them don't suit me at all (ie. they're junk), so I thought I'd pass them on to you, my faithful (and in some cases, not-so-faithful) readers.

Please don't be put off by the word 'junk'. One man's junk, after all, is frequently put in a box and given to that special lady (if the Saturday Night Live sketch featuring guest host Justin Timberlake is to be believed)* ... but it's also commonly known to be another man's treasure.

* WARNING: The clip on the link provided above contains adult themes and strong language. But at the same time, it's very funny.

I haven't got a gift for absolutely everyone, but I've put something aside for most of those who seem to frequent these pages semi-regularly. If you've been missed, please don't be offended. It merely means I don't like you very much and/or forgot about you because I barely even think of you and/or I really, REALLY hate you (which is the most likely situation).

The presents appear in a completely random order, and some people have received more than one gift (so you'd better read through the whole thing very carefully, just in case). Occasionally I received a few extra copies of a particular gift, so multiple people might be listed for the same image. Do not be alarmed. This is a good way to meet people, particularly if I've determined that you'll have to share the gift.

Anyone interested in obtaining their gift from me can send their credit card details to my email address, and expect to be robbed blind. Shipping charges do apply, and I charge exorbitant rates. (You won't believe the additional taxes I can make up! Give it a go! It's fun for all! ... And my family has to eat.)

Happy belated Christmas, everyone.


I'm not even sure what this pennant is from, but it was given to me by some sport-nut fan who was going on and on about spelling (well, they were talking about dotting an 'i', anyway), and seemed to be in a bit of a state of disarray. I don't know if you'll find a use for this, but feel free to take it off my hands. Thank you.

Colls Bolls:

Here’s a blue door for you, to help tide you over between the second and third seasons of Thank God You’re Here. It probably needs a lick of paint, sorry.

Javatari and Shane:

Here’s a blue door for you, too. You'll have to share.

TGYHWatcher and Lizzie/Buffy_Kitten:

Christmas blessings to you and everyone else over on the TGYH LiveJournal. Sorry about the graffiti.


I’m pretty funny, huh? Actually, I figured that you were 'nuttier' than you were 'soft and gooey', so this probably suits you better anyway.

Aussie Rock Chick:

Although currently the newest blog on my blogroll (I only discovered your blog on Friday), you have really struck a chord with me, so I decided to drag my ol' cousin Rufus out of his box in the attic and get him to dust off his banjo. It strikes me that since you're a rock chick drummer, you'd get a lot of value out of having Rufus here join your band and really liven things up at your concerts. No, no; don't thank me - I'm just glad to get Rufus out of the house. (And he's single, too - wink-wink ...)


Look carefully, and think laterally. Can you see what I've done, there? I'm clever.


Not much going on here in the way of 'hilarious', but at least you can't say I didn't think of you. One of my favourite Mr Men books of all time (it's equal 57th, along with all the others), this one holds a candle to rest and is sure to make you laugh. So that's a nod towards the 'giggle', and the candle thing is the reference to the 'wick'. (Ho-hum. At least I tried.)


Because I'm a rainbow, too. (But that doesn’t mean I want one.)


Clear, tranquil water-and-sky scene. It’s real; someone bought it for me but I already own an island in the area, so “it’s been done”. Would you like it? It’s quite sublime … (Clouds not included.)

Gianluca Di Milano:

Praise be to Cheeses! Here to you mates be a gift of epic contortions. You like the language, now learn to know the words! Exceptional lerning availabale to all who read it nightly. Just for you, my Italian Stallion freind, I throw in a widgidee grub for you to eat alive. You will loves it! Only the true Austrians eat the dirty grubs from the ground, and know you can eat one to. Is a funny behavor, no? Must be becase all the parents is on the welfare and no can afford to buy the foods from a shop for the too much glue sniffing. Oh well, more for you! Malfortunately they taste yuck bad and are mainly for the gays.


Find somewhere to put this, will ya? Thanks.


Food rarely lasts very long at this time of year (particular with all the hot weather we've been having in Melbourne!), but these are the last few cherries I found at the bottom of the fridge, so you're free to take them. Bear in mind, however, that they weren't inside the fridge; they were just on the floor in front of it, sort of caught underneath the door a bit.


Quite clearly, these are bad apples. They were good when I got them, but like most things, the more time they spent in my presence, the more they turned bad. No wonder other kids' mothers told them I was a bad influence. They were right! I'm a Rebel Without A Cure.


Another gift for you. I don’t have any carrots anyway, so the little guy’s probably pretty hungry by now. The hat comes as part of the package, and the trick base (allowing the rabbit to hide at the bottom of the hat without being seen by the audience; it has a trick switch underneath the hat brim) is a secret I’ll take to the grave, never discussing it with anyone or posting details about it here on this blog for everyone to read.


I can't vouch for the state of this DVD. It was given to me as a joke present (I think we can all understand why), and was then used as a frisbee for most of Boxing Day. The dog kept running away with it for long periods of time. But I'm sure it won't diminish the quality of the feature. (PS – We don’t have a dog.)


I don’t need this blog template, but I think you might have a use for it. :) I often have trouble viewing your LiveJournal page, so this seems like the perfect re-gift for you.

Ms Fits:

What do you get the blogger who has everything? (And every reader she could possibly want?) How about a bookshelf to house all those books she reads for First Tuesday Book Club? Yes, I thought so too. Assembly required.


You need to eat something, girl – you’re looking pasty and frail (I imagine). Hopefully you’ll find something in here that won’t offend your vegan status but still allow you to grow some hairs on your chest (or whatever the appropriate female equivalent to that would be; description unnecessary, thank you).

I’m Not Craig:

Now you can be.


Hopefully you’ll make good use of this sign, and perhaps it will help. (PS – ‘Period’, in this instance, is what Americans call a ‘full stop’. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea entirely …)


Here you go; cut sick. Lessons to follow, but here’s a spare semi-colon to get you started. Why not practice on your friends?


I’m not trying to suggest that you need any help in the semi-colon arena, but I thought this costume would be a good one to spring on John at the last minute before heading off to all those ‘Punctuation Parties’ you guys are constantly attending.


Speaks for itself, really, doesn’t it. Enjoy.


In order to help you on your rocky road to Raw Comedy 2007*, I’ve decided to pass on this book of crappy little kiddie jokes. They’re not very good, but it sounds like they may be an improvement on your existing material. (Note: The previous sentence is not actually my view; I’m sure your comedy rocks and you’re just doubting yourself. Still, better to be safe than sorry, eh?) The 'Compact Disc' contained within is an old Rodney Rude CD, badly scratched.

* Mmm, now I want some rocky-road …


This is neither a picture, nor a poster of Dean Geyer. This is Dean Geyer. My Dad won him as third prize in an RSL competition (he was hoping to win the car). I’m not sure what kind of contractual agreement forced Dean into agreeing with the terms of the competition (I think it was a misprint and should have read, “Win a date with Dean Geyer”, but the words in bold were missing), and I’m sick of him hanging around the house. I can’t get my car out of the driveway in the morning to go to work, because there’s a constant stream of thirteen-year-old girls camped out on my lawn and in the street. The neighbours are starting to complain (they complain even more when Dean starts singing to himself), so I figured you’d be one person willing to take him off my hands. And promptly, please!


I’m giving you this pair of mirrored female sunglasses (which someone perplexingly gave to me), because I thought it’d be a great way of helping you cover up this:

Magical_M’s Pink Eye.
(Definitely not one of the gifts on this list.)

John Surname:

I have absolutely no idea what this thing is, but it was given to me by my great-aunt (now not-so-great), and I loathe it. I thought maybe it could come in useful in a Romoin comic, however. Maybe provide some fodder for a short series of comics in which Romoin and Captain Wacky try to work out what this thing is and what it's supposed to do, before its use is startlingly-revealed (when you get sick of drawing it). Just a suggestion. (Hey, anything to kick-start Romoin’s dwindling career, ya hear me?)


Feel free to pass this one on to Princess if you like. Why my mother bought it for me, I don’t know.


Here are a few items to remind you of your recent trip abroad. They barely cost anything at all (in pounds sterling), meaning they cost an awful lot, actually (in Australian dollars). I hope you’re appreciative. (I hated them when my brother gave them to me, because they’re so gaudy and tacky … but, strangely, they made me think of you.)


Here's a little something to remind you of England - I'm told it's almost as if you were there.


During your time on Big Blogger, it quickly became apparent that you could do with a dictionary on Aussie slang. When it turned out that you’ve actually already read one, it quickly became apparent that you need a good one. This is a crap one. But hopefully that means you’re one step closer to finding yourself a really good one.


I can’t be sure, but I think this Wacky Helmet ™ is being modeled by Ron Barrassi. I’m pretty sure he isn’t in the box, but as it’s unopened, I can’t be sure. Do you want me to check for you? It’s a pretty small box. Maybe you could wear this Wacky Helmet ™ on your bike or at the Grand Prix. Phil Keoghan probably wouldn’t let you approach him if you did wear it, but you’ll be making me happy. Alternatively, wear it in the shops as a great excuse to cut in line! (No one says anything when a mentally-challenged person pushes in. Trust me on this.)

Tyson and Peter:

I’m not sure if you guys have a copy of this or not, but I don’t need three of them. So I’m letting you fine upstanding men have a copy each. It makes for good reading and includes photos of Scott & Charlene’s wedding. (Surprising, I know.) There’s also a list of all writing and editing staff members, and a photo of Senior Sergeant Allan Steiger pointing his fingers at a bad guy in the shape of an imaginary gun.*

* Not really, but wouldn’t it be funny if it did?!


I know you’ve left the bitter, twisted woman façade well alone now, but I thought it might be worthwhile for you to hold on to this regardless. Just in case you ever need it. Your first drug diary. Sort of.


Look what I found inside a neatly-wrapped gift this Christmas! A captial G! Since you always seem to be lacking in capital Gs when your name appears anywhere, I intuitively realised you must be capital-poor. Not one to wish to embarrass you, I knew this gift would come in handy. Please use it with my compliments.

Richard Watts:

I’m sorry the photo’s so crap, but it’s the only photo of the only gay in the village. (PS – You just let me know when the – admittedly harmlessly-intended – gay jokes have run their course. A private email threatening to hurt me if I don’t cut it out will suffice.)


When I received this gigantic bottle of champagne (and bearing in mind that I’m a teetotaler), my first thought was, “Steph’d be able to knock this back in thirty seconds!” So I wanted to make sure this little gem found its way to you. Remember, if you buy a crate of these you get 300 bonus FlyBuys points.


I figured if anyone could make use of this hair curling iron, it’d be you. :P


I got two of these for Christmas, and clearly I only need one. Let me know if you need any hair gel.


You’re into movies and cinema and reviewing films and stuff … so I knew that you’d have a greater need for this than I do. I actually got three of these this year (ho-hum), so you can have two of them.


This is the second one. It still has the full reel from Shrek The Third in it. You can keep that as well, if you like.

Her Radicalness:

I don't know where this magazine came from, but I found it lying around somewhere. You're welcome to it.


I trust you'll know what to do with this when you receive your mail from me later this week or early next (oooh, what a cryptic mystery!).

Gun Street Girl:

Here's some exciting fiction (or biography?) for you to sink your teeth into over the summer. Should be good reading (if a little bizarre towards the end). A bit like your blog. (Hey! I say it in love!) :)


Speaks for itself, really, but seeing as you've officiated at both Bloggolympics so far (the Rock, Paper, Scissors event is the big crowd-pleaser), and never once been able to take part, I thought I'd hand these over to you. Feel free to play with yourself.

(Yes, I know perfectly well what I just said. His girlfriend's in a different state, dude.)

And last but CERTAINLY NOT LEAST ...


I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas. And I thought you might be, too.

One final present: And this one’s for everyone who so greatly enjoyed the final episode of Thank God You’re Here’s second season late last year: Merry Christmas.