Slot My Overhang

From: Almo
Sent: Wednesday, 25 January 2012 15:36
To: ClubDes; Chef
Subject: Training and Process moves to the front in 2012

Kia Ora,

I have a couple of items on my list which are processes which I want to move at some stage this year. I have listed these below.

• Completion of text support and procedures
• Messaging support and procedures
• Telco request support and procedures

You may very well note that some of these are overhanging from last year that I didn’t manage to complete then. So what I wanted to do was canvas what the training schedule is looking like so we can slot these items in. Then I can start trying to work to these dates.

Nga Mihi,

Alan

From: ClubDes
Sent: Wednesday, 25 January 2012 15:42
To: Almo; Chef
Subject: RE: Training and Process moves to the front in 2012

您大同性戀同性戀

Thank you for your very cultural greeting.

I shall leave the canvassing to Chef and will occasionally slot my overhang in through the door. Please show me your date.

美好的 一天，你針鋒 相對
ClubDes

Class on Parade

The All Blacks victory parade culminated in town this week and once again proved that there ain’t no party like a Welly street party. The day’s events also bought out the finest in our future leaders and the new cast of ‘16 and Pregnant’:

Outstanding stuff. There were similar gems of wisdom from a contingent of Queen Margaret girls too which lead to a hilarious letter in the DomPost, the likes of which I love to read:

"I trust the parents of the QM girls featured on the front page are proud of the result of their daughters expensive schooling.."

Mind you, the only thing more slightly disturbing than the literary promiscuity of the girls was that the person holding this sign was a FELLA:

Piri rubs on the lotion or he gets the water.

All this parade needed to make it totally complete was for the ABs to throw sweeties to the masses, but alas that kind of thing has been outlawed because it’s all fun and games until someone get s a Mintie in the eye.

Wet streets jam packed with horny teenagers, some of them girls with crude banners, yes; lolly scramble, no.

Speaking of which, The Chef has been AWOL all week with an ailment that can be best described as ‘jizz eye’. Quite what predicament or Twister position he got himself into to suffer such a fate we couldn’t really say, although the mind boggles at the thought of it.

It was good to have him back on deck eventually and how did we herald his return? We turned the office lights on real bright. That’s just how we roll in Harden Up Land.

As you were.

Reboot.

Hows this for irony; the ClubDes desktop is broke and despite working on a technical help desk I can’t do a thing about it.

Not surprising really because I’m an ideas man, not really a doer as Mrs ClubDes is only too happy to point out. Admittedly she starts plenty of things started but seldom finishes them so we make a good pair really.

I know what’s wrong with the damn thing and no, it’s not a hard drive chock full of ‘the good stuff’. The video card is stuffed and I’ve proven it by using a loner from work that I really should have kept because no one would have noticed if I had. But I am an honest lad and didn’t.

That was about two years ago and since then have made three concerted efforts to find a replacement, mostly under harassment of not being a doer, I should add. The first involved me contacting Hewlett Packard directly only to have the will to live sucked from me by their helpless desk and their incessant need to tick every fucken box on their ‘450 mandatory checks to make before logging a fault’ list.

The second involved Chef because he’s quite clued up and not just with food. He was very helpful and we got to the point where we tested two replacement cards that were new, but faulty. And about there he left it, possibly because I lost interest and he picked me, quite correctly I might add, as a hopeless case.

So we come to the third, most recent attempt which started with me emailing the deets through to HP the other day. ‘Deets’ by the way is short for ‘details’. I get this new found abbreviated jargon from coaching my girls who are all totes about the abbreviation. ‘Totes’ is short for ‘totally’, btw, which is short for…..oh forget it.

They emailed me back stating that although our desktop was no longer supported but did provide a link to an approved supplier that may have the part. They didn’t, because the desktop is no longer supported. Funny that.

Unsupported? My Grandmas nungas are unsupported and why not at her age aye, she’s earned the right to free boob if she wants, but it’s a bit fucken cheeky of HP to say the same about a bit of kit that I bet somewhere, right now, some Asian family is getting paid 50 cents a day to put together and dispatch. Now this is no Commodore 64 from 1984 either, it’s about four years old.

They want me to buy a new one, that’s why it’s not supported no more. But it’s a fine line playing that game because I’m so slutted with them I’m not going to buy HP ever again. I’ll instead buy some other brand that will undoubtedly go the same way in four years time. And you thought porn on the internet was free aye? What a fucken liberty.

It’s a conspiracy is what it is. I’ve always felt the same about Sony who I truly believe have a big red button on the wall somewhere at Sony HQ that when pressed, kills off all the previous incarnations of the Playstation meaning, if you have one, that you now have to upgrade to the new $800 model. That button sounds like a cash register when pushed.

Thankfully I have one more option and it, or rather he, works on the help desk, so I know he’ll know his shit. Unless he’s an ideas man, like me then I really am stuffed.

So no pressure Puffer, but it’s your cock up, my arse.

I'm pretty sure I know what the problem is...

The Dumb Down Burger

The intelligence of this country took another hit this week with the arrival of the Double Down burger from that bastion of healthy life choices, KFC.

Naturally the health conscious freaked and got their miserable, puckered anus like faces in and on everything dispelling the nutritional content of such a thing. It was an exercise that backfired spectacularly because in doing so they created huge hype to something that even the company admitted on camera it was never really going to promote.

Oh and of course the media had a field day with it.

I’ve said it once but I love the sound of my voice so I’ll do so again; we’re a pretty sad fucken country when something like a burger gets the tits in a tangle and it starts becoming a lead news story. It’s not news, it’s a burger. It’s not a health epidemic, it’s a burger and it’s certainly not a freedom of choice issue because it’s only a fucken burger.

And are you, like me, sick to death of seeing nutritionists bagging everything they personally wouldn’t eat and taking the moral high ground accordingly? I for one know that they don’t practice what they preach for I regularly bump into (I wish, she’s quite tidy) the dietitian I had whilst in the hospital last, at the supermarket and she buys some shit, so there you go.

And they’re only ever one of two types of people are these self appointed experts; morbidly obese thus completely jealous of anyone that eats the Double Down, or stick thin and thus incapable of holding the Double Down let alone eat it (thus being completely jealous of anyone who can).

It's not even the worst burger I've ever heard off. That particular honour goes to one that a guy who we always called 'uncle' but actually wasn't, told me to ask for a fur burger at the corner dairy. Now I might have only been 10 years old but even I suspected I didn't want one, especially as he haven't given me any money to pay for it.

By all means, fight the good fight on childhood obesity and all that jazz but pick your battles aye? Steer clear of anything that any fast food joint churns out because people go there to buy that rubbish. They don’t give a toss about you telling them how much salt is in the damn thing or the calorie count any more than a smoker cares how much nicotine is in their durry; all they care is that there is some.

So the Double Down is here for five weeks and for the small minority of the population that have or will try them, like Chef and JK, they’re pretty good by all accounts. KFC are rubbing their fat caked hands with all the free publicity they’ve gotten over it and every celery eater who spoke up about body mass index and shit looks like a fool, again.

Personally that stuff goes right through me and looks the same coming out as it did going in, so I won’t be partaking unless I have the urge for a cheap colonic. But I do feel a little bit dumber for having seen / heard / read the whole sorry saga so maybe a product rename is in order:

New from KFC – The Dumb Down Burger.

Even the Chef, with his extraordinary culinary palate, inhaled his Dumb Down burger.

WankBook and The Chef

I read something somewhere recently how some silly bitch was proclaiming that these days The Net is actually a very safe place and the proof is that everybody uses their real name in email addresses and on Twitter and shit.

Clearly she hasn’t be stalked by some nut bar which surprises me in one sense; she’s an editor on a public website, but not on another; she is a complete minger.

Oh and I have a theory on that very premise that I’ll cover in another blog. Not that she’s a minger, because that is completely true, no, more on Twitter and shit later.

Sometimes, just sometimes, when I start to think that she might be right I have to remind myself that there are guys like this out there and guys like me, trolling the net just waiting to mock the shit out of them.

I have blanked out his last name because as you’ll see he may not be the sharpest knife in the draw but like so many borderline personalities he does seem to have access to some and that makes him a little bit scary.

Likewise I removed the name of his friends because it’s not really their fault that he’s their mate is it?

Let’s start at the top.

‘Chef’ is not even a real title. Not like ‘Doctor’ or ‘Sir’ which would be used when introducing or talking about someone. I have a feeling Chef Michael introduces himself as such and probably even talks about Chef Michael in the third person. Win-ner.

Now I know a Chef Mike and he's not even a real Chef but that's okay, because his title is a term of endearment. We bestowed it upon him for chrissake, it's not like he created himself a Facebook account using it.

He's a standup guy is our Chef, the real Chef, who does wonderful things with pastry and I suspect does not 'cook alone' quite as much as Fake Chef. And by 'cook alone' I mean wank.

Fake Chef Mike's activities are interesting and his interests scary, although strangely, his interests are not actually listed as activities...so it makes me wonder why he even listed them at all?!

The real clue though that Chef Michael is, in fact a Penis is that he lists ‘Samurai’ and ‘Ninjitsu’ as activities when we all know you’re one or the mother fucken other. Which is it, Samurai or Ninja? You can’t be both Superman AND Batman, you tit.

And no self respecting weight lifting, Samurai Ninja would even feel the need to know what a sniper rifle looks like let alone use one. Swords are much better because they are silent which means you’re more likely to use them. Shits opponent’s right up. Guns for show; swords for a pro.

So let’s be careful out there gang. Because if you ever start feeling a little better about the world wide porn web just remember that the application could be renamed WankBook tomorrow and guys like the curry munching Chef would still fit right in.