Sunday, October 30, 2005

First Impressions Count

Photography class was one of the most enjoyable classes of high school - right up there with Phys Ed. I don't know whether it was the freedom of being outdoors roaming around the school with a camera in one hand and not a care in the world in the other, or the fact that a cute red-haired girl in my year attended the same class.

Either way, I just loved photography - even the moments where your school "mates" would either slap you in the face, grope your breasts, grab your ass, or flick developer solution onto your school uniform as you stood there waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkroom.

Aaah... those were the good ol' days.

Or there was the most embarrassing time I had with the cute red-head in the library...

Here I was researching for my theoretical photography assignment flicking through books I was reading, trying to find the needed answers for my assignment questions and I finally struck gold with a nice thick book that pretty much talked about everything related to photopgraphy: a veritable photographic encyclopedia.

I hadn't noticed Michelle (the hot red-head) walk on into the library standing beside me beaming a huge smile, until she forced a cough.

And there she was... arrayed in her beautiful grey school uniform giving me a gorgeous teethy smile.

She looked happy.

And I began to melt.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing much... just reading."

I didn't want her thinking that I was some lame ass who did his photography assignments at the last minute so I began flicking through the huge photography encyclopedia without paying too much attention to what was being displayed on the pages.

"Whaddya doing here?" I shyly asked.

"Oh I was just wondering whether you have any film that needs developing as I'm going to develop one roll of mine and I was just thinking that if you had a roll that needed developing I could save developer and maybe some of your time... so..." she paused hoping that by now I'd got the gist of where she was going.

I slowly continued to flick through the pages of the book, but remained completely focussed on her. I was in awe that the hottest chic in our year was now talking ALONE to me.

Wow, I thought, she's talking to me!

I remember just standing there, staring at her for what seemed an eternity. She giggled at my, no doubt, dumbfounded awkward looking stare and she brushed a side of her long fringe behind her ear.

"Well?" she asked after about a minute's silence.

I knew I didn't have any film that needed developing - the theoretical assignment I was undertaking had taken up too much of my time during the week so I hadn't taken the time to have any shots done.

Dammit! I thought, but I wasn't going to let that stop any chance I had.

I wasn't going to blow it by telling the truth!

"Yes I do," I replied lying through a half-forced smile.

By now I had stopped flicking through the pages of the book I was reading. I wanted her. I wanted to tell her right then that she could do more than just develop my film for me. I began to say something, but she was too quick...

"Whereabouts is it?" she asked, and then giggled, pointing to the book I now held which now exposed a photo spread of a nude female model!

As I looked down all I saw was breasts.

"It's... in... my... nipple case," I replied awestruck at the image that was displayed in front of me.

"You're what???"

My face was now turning bright red so I hurriedly turned the page only to be faced with more breasts and more naked women in this aptly titled section of the book labelled "Photographic Art". Frustrated that I had now created a wonderful impression I slammed the book shut and shoved it back into the shelves.

Michelle was laughing.

"Sorry," I shyly replied unable to maintain any serious eye contact, "the film is in my pencil case."

I pointed over to the table that housed my files and pencil case. I can remember placing a spare roll of blank film in my pencil case many months ago... thankfully it was still there when she opened it.

As Michelle left she turned to me and said,
"I'll leave you to your... reading."

She smiled and told me she'd be done in about an hour.

I just stood there. The reddest dumb ass on the planet. Out of all the times I ever had alone with Michelle I stuffed up.

Finishing the remainder of my photography assignment took far longer than expected - it was too difficult to think straight. By the time I did finish I was hoping I'd missed her... which I did.

When I arrived back in class nobody was around and there hung a blank roll of developed film left to dry with my name and a note from Michelle...

"Overexposed"

Drat.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

"C" Really Stands For Champ

My first memorable torturous exam would without a doubt have been the final exams at high school (you know - the one's where teachers, principals, parents, neighbours, and relatives you never thought you had inform you of the "importance" of these exams).

Anyway, during this "important" examination period I was struck with the flu. Out of all the possible times the flu could have struck it HAD to be at the start of the final week of exams... not on the LAST day, but on the FIRST day.

And boy was it a shocker!

Even though I armed myself with what seemed like a mountain load that would surpass Mt Everest of tissues that day, it just wasn't enough to stop the flood of snot and other green goo that endlessly dribbled from my nose.

I laugh about it now as I picture the stares of shock horror from my friends as I pleaded them for a tissue, or, for some spare blank pages from their exam papers.

I remember motioning to Dave first and as I did he moved his index finger to his lips ready to "Shoosh" me but when his eyes connected to the green waterfall his finger went from the front of his lips to inside his mouth where he proceeded to bite heavily on it.

Then there was Marcel. After unsuccessfully getting a response from Dave I turned to the opposite side and with my hands made a motion of blowing my nose to Marcel. I tried my best at covering the "mess" that covered my face in my actions, but when he looked at me puzzled followed by a shrugging of his shoulders I had no choice but to reveal the problem and point to it.

I had never seen a 17-year old boy wet his pants... but that day I did. Poor Marcel.

I prodded him a few times, but the shock had numbed him, I resorted to slapping him but after once such loud slap the noise drew the attention of the teacher officiating the exam. She quietly stormed over to my desk, didn't bother asking what the problem was and proceeded to forcefully grab my exam papers from the desk.

Thankfully my snot was thick and strong. As the teacher wiggled and tugged at the papers, she gave up and grabbed my shoulder asking me what the problem was.

She wasn't my favourite teacher so I just turned to her and let it all hang - no censoring - just pure unadulterated green goo.

"No, everything's fine Miss," I replied trying to smile underneath my green moustache, but obviously my humour wasn't found.

She jumped back at the frightful sight, covered her mouth as she swallowed a scream and yanked me by the arm.

Next thing I remember I was in the staff toilet giving my nose everything I had at getting every last ounce of clag out.

After several rounds of dumping saturated snotful toilet paper into the bowl I pushed the button to flush my contents and that's where the next round of problems occurred... the toilet had difficulty swallowing.

Great!

I tried flushing again adding what seemed gasoline to a bonfire hoping that the fire would go out, but as the water level rose I did the next best "smartest" thing... sticking my foot into the bowl to help push the "contents" through.

As I found at quite soon... that wasn't the smartest thing to do.

As you can no doubt guess my size 13 school shoe decided to stay submerged - stuck at the base, and I had no idea how I got it into that position in the first place... all I did was try push the paper through!?

This is not good, I thought.

The excitement began producing more snot and I had an extremely difficult time maintaining balance, trying to pull my leg out of the toilet and cleaning my nose all at the same time!!!

(Who says guys can't do two things at once?!?)

I tried turning my body at all different angles to yank myself free but unbeknowst to me at the time some attempts saw me accidentally keep my left hand on top of the flush button again... and again... and again.

It wasn't until water was about an inch deep from the floor that I began to wonder where in the hell all this smelly water was coming from. When I saw my left hand on top of the flush button during another "position" that I felt my nuts and stomach speedily travel up towards my throat... this wasn't going to be good.

By now the teacher outside began heavily sighing and demanding that I'd "better be nearly done". Though I tried to reassure that her I'd "nearly finished" it didn't come across as intended (damn those women with that sixth sense). In a last minute ditch I fossicked for my laces with both hands in the bowl and undone my shoe. I popped my foot out just as she opened the door.

"What the %$#@%$ ^%$#@ are you %$#@$# doing? &^%$!," she screamed.

What would have been otherwise an expulsion of a student was now flowing freely from my teachers mouth.

I stood there with one perfectly fine wet shoe on, one wet grey sock, two drenched arms, a slightly wet school uniform and more green stuff crawling out from nose with the increase of excitement.

If the shock horror of my smile earlier didn't amuse my teacher... this took the cake!

Again my arm was yanked (the other one... so as to match the other dislocation) and the famous trip to the principals office was in order... again.

This time the school caretaker was called, the cleaner was called, and my parent's were called... as well as another box of tissues. And again the "heads" of the school weren't impressed and they particularly made sure my parents were given the "excessively" bad version of events that had unfolded during this "particularly stressful time".

Another year of grounding was obviously going to be meted out when I got home.

Great!

After everything had settled down to a dull roar I was dismissed back to my class where I finished up my exam... in another room (I think because of my smell and green gunk issue).

I ended up failing it... and so did Marcel... poor Marcel.

Sigh.

So ever since that fateful day I learnt a very important thing... don't get a cold prior to exam week. This means that whenever an exam approaches I take excessive doses in Vitamin C (practically OD'ing on the stuff!) and where possible I try to reduce the stress of my studies.

How do I do this?

Well, when I study I maintain a rigorous regime. Here's how it goes...
1. Open study books.
2. Study hard for 15 minutes.
3. Stop.
4. Take a 1 hour break.

Seems to work well, I have maintained a consitent "C" grade for most of my assessments ("C" really stands for "Champ" - everybody knows that!) and with this week's exams I've remained snot and stress free.

Obviously more C's coming my way.

What a champ (or as some teachers would like to add a champanzee!),


Ryan

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

New Toy Set To Wreak Havoc

I don't think the world will ever be the same again. In fact, come to think of it, I don't think it's even safe for anyone to venture outdoors again!

Why?

Well... everyone put in for a gift for my 28th birthday last week, and Monday it arrived.

I couldn't believe it.

It was a new mobile phone. But not just ANY ordinary mobile phone... a top of the wazza Sony Ericsson k750i mobile phone complete with digital camera and video recorder!

So, dear friends, be afraid, be very afraid... images are bound to creep their way on more blog posts in the not-so distant future. Muhahahaha... And, if you're all lucky, maybe some video! Eeek! Scarey isn't it?

I'll end with this year's birthday invitation that I sent to my dearest friends (I love making up my own invites regardless of how dull they look to the eye - it's the words that count!)...


(If you can't read it just click on the image and it will load in another screen)

Okay, enough for today...


Ryan

Single, Manly And Luvin It

It's not every day that I have the time to do some good ol' blog surfing and check out what other people (besides my favs) are doing... and it's not every day where I actually *find* a blog that I enjoy (hence why my favs list is so small!).

But today I came across Mandy's blog who had me lured in by her latest post titled New Strain of Man Announced.

By the time I had finished reading her post I had completely agreed with everything she said - which is another rarity in itself! And I think most men should read what she has to say as I think there's a growing shift with women in this area.

Here are some bits and pieces I'd like to quickly add...

I too have noticed in this day and age that men have been castrating their Y chromosomes all for the purpose of... of... heck I dunno... vanity? And it's not likely to stop any time soon.

These "men" who sport long hair styles, have their eyebrows waxed, shave all other forms of facial hair (and not to mention other body parts)... look no different to women. And oddly enough women don't mind the eye candy either. It's as if...

Women are falling in love with themselves!

With the increase of homosexuality, metrosexuality and the like it has become more and more apparent... men are turning into women! And it has me wondering whether there are any REAL men left in this world as nearly everyone's either a woman or woman-like!!???

I know one woman, dear Mandy, is wondering about this too!

But, I will confess, I myself *had* turned into this sensitive new age guy type when I was dating women. Experiences has now taught me that while it may have been easy to get a woman, the relationship generally soured after several months.

It wasn't until my grandfather handed down some interesting wisdom about women through the 70-odd years he had graced this earth that everything began to make sense. As he sat there one day as we talked about women he looked up at me after I had asked him for some helpful advice and said,

Ryan, don't ever change for a woman.

I was perplexed.

Do you mean don't change... as in ever? I asked.

I was obviously taking what he said to an extreme. He quickly expounded a little further by using an interesting analogy... a car!

He said something along the following lines...

A relationship is like a car. You are the driver. Your woman is the passenger. You drive to where you need to go in life. Along the way listen to what your woman has to say (she may offer help as well as make the journey much more enjoyable). But under no circumstances can she take control of the wheel. If she wants to take control politely stop the car, let her out and bid her farewell. You will know which woman is right for you as being the one that takes the longest journey with you... this will be your wife.

He added quickly, with a wink, And don't forget to upgrade to a family car when the kids come!

Nice. Well, I liked it. (I liked cartoons when I was a kid so simplifying thigs to this extent helped.)

I took his advice on board and returned back to my natural masculine self. I began to take pride in my appearance even when I hadn't shaved for days (the "rugged" look), and I no longer sucked up to women or tried to get their approval when I talked to them.

Life has been great ever since!

Single, manly and luvin it,


Ryan

Beautiful On The Outside But Hollow On The Inside

Last week I celebrated yet another birthday, which saw me tip over into my 28th year. Today I celebrate a dear friend's birthday who will be tipping over into his 29th year (this same friend was the one who in my "101 useless facts about me" list I couldn't see staying married for any more than 5 years (#46) and oddly enough the engaged couple have just recently broke up!).

And I must admit HE is taking it quite well... she is not.

Now while this is still early days, there are several things that my friend and I have come to pretty much agree on about women, and oddly enough this is:

BEAUTY

Weird huh?

I know, I know, you'd think two Aussie blokes would only really talk about beauty in a positive sense - a quality that a woman must have in order to get our attention - but, after dating a variety of beautiful women, both of us have really come to the same realisation that Sir Walter Raleigh did:
"Remember, that if thou marry for beauty, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which perchance will neither last nor please thee one year; and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of no price at all; for the desire dieth when it is attained, and the affection perisheth when it is satisfied."

My friend and I noted through our experiences that most beautiful women are actually quite hollow... there's no personality, or real sense of humour. With my mate's ex she was, I'll admit, a very attractive blue-eyed brunette, but as for a sense of humour and a personality she had the likeness of a dead ant... it just was non-existent.

So what has happened to my world view about women now??

Well, nothing much really. I mean, don't get me wrong: there needs to be some physical attraction, I just don't think this physical attraction should be the main reason couples marry (which is what I could see my friend was doing)... because as Sir Walter Raleigh states beauty doesn't last and doesn't satisfy: inner beauty (such as having a good sense of humour and a personality) does.

And I personally don't think that this is a new revelation for me as I really only prefer women who have a beautiful smile and gorgeous laugh, rather than the other qualities that men use to judge a "hot" woman by the size of her breasts and the length of her legs.

In fact, I'm beginning to believe that if an "average" (in the world's eyes) looking woman had a great smile, gorgeous laugh and a great personality she could easily have me won. An attractive woman, on the other hand, without these qualities would have a really difficult time, if not an impossible task.

Alright, one last thing before I go... my best mate's ex was what I'd term not really "mentally stable" either. And I think this stems from the fact that beautiful women like to get their own way... if they don't they chuck a sissy fit.

In fact, as for my mate's ex there was a true story I detailed in this blog last month about her, and if you read the short story at the end I cut it after my response... I deliberately didn't tell you how SHE responded, and would you like to know how she responded??

(Ok, I'll assume you're nodding...)

SHE CRIED!

Yep. Read it again: she cried. After busting her balls by having a little fun at her expense she didn't like it and... chucked a sissy fit! I couldn't believe it, but then again I could!

So... how does a man test to see whether a woman is potentially "mentally stable" dating material?

I reckon bust her balls.

Yep, you heard me: bust her balls. Make fun of her and see how she responds. If she gets offended by the things you say then she's not any fun, if, however, she laughs then it shows that she could be a real catch.

The trick now is knowing how to make fun of women without coming across as being a complete arrogant bastard.


Ryan

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

New Ride: Grandpa's Revenge

If I ever have trouble with my heart instead of calling the ambulance ring my grandfather and put me in the passenger seat with him behind the wheel. Where possible request my grandfather travel down the freeway.

As you can no doubt imagine I flirted with the angel of death today... heck I think he was in the back with his arms up screaming "Yeeehhaaaaarrr"!

What happened?

Put simply: I had to take a ride into the city with good ol' gramps behind the wheel. I offered to drive but the stubborn ol' man was adamant at showing me a thing or two about driving.

Throughout the trip my heart was in my throat searching for the eject button, my hands had gripped the seat so hard that they had ripped through the padding and both feet pressed so hard into the floor that there are now two permanent holes on the passenger side (I felt like the Flinstones)!

Here's how my grandfather thinks and drives when on the road:
  • When changing lanes go New York style - move, then indicate... maybe don't even indicate! If anyone is in the way they'll get the idea when they see your big-ass van moving in their direction;

  • First and third gears in a manual (stick shift) car are unnecessary... even the park brake is unnecessary!

  • Foraging in the back of the van whilst driving for some inconsequential thing is far more important than driving safely and concentrating on the road - where possible use BOTH hands whilst foraging;

  • Anything that looks out of the ordinary should be tooted... this includes pedestrians on zebra crossings, blondes, and small cars;

  • Outline in detail EVERY conceivable mistake the person in front of you is making... perhaps toot these problems in morse code to them to help them understand their mistakes;

  • When seeing a red light on the horizon slow down so that the car need not halt... when light has changed green FLOOR IT;

  • On the off chance that you do have to wait at a red light get as close as possible to the car in front - maybe even give them a little bump and a wink - and when the light has changed roll back as far as possible - maybe giving the car behind a bump and abusing the hell out of them for why they're so close - before moving forward;

  • Two words: brake suddenly;

  • Prolong the trip by giving a guided tour on what it was like in the "good ol' days" - a good guide need not look at where he is going rather more so at the landmark being discussed... even if this landmark is directly behind.


On the ride back home I sat in the back sucking my thumb rocking back and forth in the foetal position.

In fact I'm thinking of setting up a scarey ride at Disneyworld called "Grandpa's Revenge"... it won't be for the faint hearted!


Ryan

Monday, October 10, 2005

A New Appreciation For Child Birth

Last week I shared lunch with an old friend of my sister's.

As we exchanged small talk I discovered that she had recently given birth to a baby boy (I wondered what that little thing was wrapped up in her arms!). She also made mention that she was in her final college year of becoming a midwife - which I thought rather interesting and decided to probe more about.

The good thing was that during this conversation about midwifery my sister's friend didn't hold, let alone sweeten, ANYTHING! It was a no-holds-barred-you're-just-a-dumb-bloke-slug-fest-and-you-would-never-understand-or-fully-appreciate-child-birth-anyway kind of talk.

Everything from funny medical terms on problems and conditions that go wrong (that made me feel sick just thinking about it) to implements used to anything else in the hospital ward that can make a grown man throw up were FULLY discussed.

(Stuff that I really do not wish to write in this blog... as even writing a broad summary about it brings painful flashbacks!)

Heck... even during the conversation I felt like going and getting castrated... with a blunt spoon!!

I quickly diverted the conversation to what exercises a woman would do to help push the baby out better/faster.

Being a bloke I "stupidly" thought that all a woman need do is build up her abs! But nooo, "the typical dumb male answer at trying to solve the world" response was wrong... it was the pelvic muscles that needed strength.

I was then given an exhibition on just what exercises are required to build certain pelvic muscles and boy were some of these moves extremely sexy! I made sure she fully explained this area!!

When the conversation then moved on how a woman begins to control her bladder things darkened and moved back into the "time to go and get your castration" again. Eeek!

By the end of the afternoon I was a mixed bag of emotions - I felt sick in the stomach, unworthy for being a male, castrated, and as mentioned at the beginning of this email a new found appreciation for women who give birth.

However, at the end of it all I still think that women who don't want kids are wimps... and I think women who have given birth would agree too!


Ryan

PS - anyway, let's get back to those pelvic exercises...

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Your Favourite Male Body Part Please

Whenever I talk to a woman and have known her for a little time I come out with an extremely odd question that I think provides more insight about HER than what it seems on the surface.

The question I ask is:

"On a man, what section to you is the most attractive?"

Then I'll list the sections as follows:

1. Face
2. Shoulders
3. Arms
4. Chest
5. Abs
6. Ass
7. Legs

After they've thought about it and provided (what seems) an honest opinion I'll continue with what they think would be their next favourite area, and then next, and then next (etc)... all the way to the bottom (no pun intended!).

Now while my study has only seen me ask this question on about a dozen or so single women its been interesting to note that MY preconceived ideas on what a woman would have in the top 3 wouldn't necessarily the case.

(I try and avoid women who are already married, or partnered, as to try to obtain an honest answer, as I think their answers will be tainted depending upon their man! And no this isn't some sick pick up line I use... I'm not *that* low!)

Anyway, I initially thought that most women would have either face, abs or ass in their top three, but interestingly only one out of those three would make it into the top three!

Some women have said shoulders as their number one, others arms, and others chest... and MOST have had legs at the bottom of the list!

So what does it all mean?

I dunno, but I'm going to go on a strange tangent here, so hold onto your hats...

I think a woman's taste on what body parts (sorry, I couldn't think of a more eloquent way to put it) she likes about a man represents something that is more than just the physical aspect of what the man bestows.

Take this as an example... let's say that a woman likes arms. Well, arms convey strength and protection. If a man were to open his arms he exposes his heart... hence why a hug is so intimate as it shows the man trusts the person their willing to expose their heart to. A woman that likes arms likes the protective type of man.

How about the chest? Well, a strong chest conveys leadership qualities. Apes and gorillas expose and beat their chests to show strength. A woman that likes this quality perhaps prefers men who take the lead and shows some initiative.

What about shoulders? Shoulders are often used to support and carry heavy items. This could mean that a woman prefers men who provide a supportive role and/or stability.

Legs? I think legs convey commitment... someone that is willing to *stand* by you or someone that is willing to *walk* through hell and back with you. Again this would be a form of support, perhaps emotional as well as physical.

Abs? This is the supportive core of the body, I would therefore define this as showing the true nature of a man and possibly also support. A woman needs someone who's genuine, and/or someone who can nurture them.

Ass? Face? I don't know about these ones... I'm still working on it. Interestingly no woman that I've spoken to yet has had these two as number one.

So where are we going with all this Dr. Phil??

I dunno!

I've never analysed things like this before as I've always left it to the "experts", but from something that started some time ago as a harmless question has no got me on this strange quest to see whether my "theory" is true.

I guess though we'll never really know... especially considering that its women we're dealing with here!

In fact, I'll finish with this interesting question a friend asked when I told him about my weird discovery (if I can even call it that?), he asked...
"Did you ever think that the single women you asked answered the way they did because they were flirting with you?"

Hmm... no wonder face, ass and abs weren't on the top!


Ryan