Weird Shit That Freaks People Out

Some of my friends are freaked out by the weirdest shit and as tempting as it is to publicly humiliate them with their weird shit, I promised my sister I wouldn't use any names.

Here's a list of Weird Shit That Freaks People Out (not including my sister):

One of my pals gets freaked out by toilet paper which rolls out from the underside. If she sees this, she must change it so it rolls over.

Another gal pal gets the heeby jeebies from capsicum and tomato seeds. Also, if you hold up a handful of plastic straws so you can see the open holes at the end, she screams. It's true.

Big Commando Guy (he really WAS a commando) cannot eat small round things. Grapes, olives, peas, cherries, nuts of any kind (even peanuts which aren't actually round)...once, someone threw an olive at him which got him on the shoulder. Big Commando Guy beat the Olive Chucking Guy til he was blue. May I repeat: Big Commando Guy who recently fought in a war WITH GUNS AND SHIT is freaked out by small round edible things.

You know when you slice the spikes and skin off a fresh pineapple and you're left with the little "eyes" of the spikes in the pineapple's flesh? Beefy Buffed-As Asian Dude can't be in the same room as aforementioned peeled pineapple. HE HAS TO LEAVE THE ROOM because he feels as though the pineapple is looking at him. Worthy of note in this situation is that Beefy Buffed-As Asian Dude who is scared of peeled pineapples SWIMS WITH SHARKS FOR A LIVING.

So if you think YOU have a phobia, be it sharks, snakes, spiders, heights, small spaces or peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth, think about the Big Commando Guy who recently fought in a war with guns and shit is freaked out by olives. Just be thankful that at least your fear of heights doesn't make you a weirdo.

Stupid Young Punk!

A couple of weeks ago, my pals and I had planned to meet at the still-oh-so-super-cool, Section 8, for a few cheekies before dinner. I walked straight in past the ginormous bouncers who completely ignored me and the fact that I looked about 12 years of age...or possibly I'm so tiny they probably thought I was a mouse.

Like all good alcoholics, I headed straight to the bar, looking forward to a nice, refreshing beer after a "hard" day of work. The friendly banter between me and the Cute Young Thing behind the bar went something along the lines of this:

Me: Hello, Cute Young Thing (alright, that's not true...I didn't say that at all, apart from the "Hello" bit)! May I have a Trumer, please?

CYT: Sure! You got ID?

Me: Uh...yep, sure...

I hand him my ID. As he reads my Date of Birth, his eyes almost pop out of his Cute Young Face. His mouth gapes so widely that if I had a soccer ball, I probably would've shoved it down his throat. He grins, slowly at first, before breaking out into fits of laughter.

CYT: Oh my god! I'm so sorry! You're just so, like, teeny-tiny!

The little 18-year-old shit can't stop laughing. Aghast, I glare at him. He stops. His face becomes grave and solemn.

CYT: Wow. I'm...so sorry. I'm really embarrassed now. I didn't mean to disrespect you...you know...you being so old and all. I really am so, so sorry.

Me: Son, you'll be as old as me one of these days...

CYT (laughing): That's true...in like, 20 years...

Me: Shut the hell up, kid. Just give me my goddamn beer, but careful, I might have to glass you with it...

CYT (handing me my beer): Sure thing, lady...just don't put your shoulder out when you try to glass me.

Me: Stupid young punk! No tip for you!

Dumb kids, where's the goddamn respect, yo? I muttered to myself as I shuffled away.

CYT: Have a nice night, grandma!

Uh...a post for posting's sake...

So I told my wonderfully funny friend about my blog and that he should write for it immediately...I gave him the address, etc, and said he should get onto it and be, like, all funny and shit. And then I realised that I hadn't posted anything. At all. For a month. And pretty much...ever...I also told him I'm a much better writer than him and, really, am way funnier. Which I'm not. Actually, he's kinda hilarious and it'd be great if he wrote for my blog under my name. Anyway, when I told him I'm a better writer, I then realised I should actually start posting shit...

The Friendly Banter

You know how every now and then you meet interesting, engaging people who tell really great stories and have amazing experiences? They're usually funny, smart, charming, talented, have hobbies and pastimes and know stuff about...well, stuff...

Yeah, so I'm not one of those people. I'm so extraordinarily untalented and boring that The Friendly Banter is pretty much just me writing about how talented, funny and interesting other people are. Like the other day, I sent my sister an anecdote about a friend of mine who wants to build me a bike. She laughed her head off, saying she read it over and over again as she peed her pants. The only thing was, all of the funny bits - the quotes, the situations - were all about my friend, not me. I wish I could be funny too.

In actual fact, I'm so NOT funny that I'm hoping to convince my funny friends to write for this blog so I can then pretend that I do all the writing before stealing the credit (and their glory) and focusing all the attention on how funny I am. Everyone will then applaud my talent and I'll probably receive some sort of medal for my amazing insights and contribution to popular culture.

The Friendly Banter is pretty much just dialogue, conversation and situations I've overheard, eavesdropped on, observed or fabricated, and a whole heap of funny lines and anecdotes that I've stolen from other people and claimed as my own.

If you'd like to contribute to The Friendly Banter, please email me! I can then give you my login and password so you'll have no choice but to post as "Jez", thus allowing me to look as though I'm the funny one, not you.