June 2008

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If you know me, keep July 19 free.

I canvassed you, the readership, for 30th party ideas. Now I’ve made up my mind - it will be a scavenger hunt / dinner Amazing Race themed combination party!

The guests will leave the starting point in staggered intervals. From there, they will follow a set course of things to find and do, and questions to answer. Prizes will be on offer for the winning team.

After that, we all go out for dinner!

The party shall be a blatant copy of one my brother did for his 20th a few years ago.

I’m still organising the details of what will happen, where the race starts and ends, etc. The race is about 70% organised, the rest of it is 5% (approx.). I hope to get things ready enough for invitations to go out in about a week or so.

This could make for an interesting B-grade sci-fi flick:

More at Cat Ladies.

I was walking down the Nepean Highway in downtown Frankston (motto: “Bogans By The Sea”) when I came across this gem of graffiti scrawled across a wall:

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I’m not sure many people will agree with this sentiment; there are an awful lot of “I Love Frankston” bumper stickers on local cars. But what could cause such discontent? Another piece of graffiti, conveniently right next to it, could provide the explanation:

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In case you can’t read that, it states:

“Frankston is a microcosm of Australia. Public servants are parasites feeding off the people of this country. It’s now a crime for a father to catch public transport.”

It was that last statement that caught my attention. It’s now illegal for a father to catch public transport? When did this happen? Why have I not heard about this? And if this is incorrect, how did our graffiti scribbler come to think otherwise?

Imagine this scenario:

You are a man, old enough to be a parent, in Frankston, when you decide to catch a bus to Cranbourne (since you’ve always wanted to see the Botanic Gardens, remember?). No sooner do you board the bus, when who should step on but two transit police! They stroll purposefully in your direction, and you have a feeling they’re headed for you. No matter, you think, you have a valid ticket. You are ready to produce it for inspection when one of the cops says:

“Are you a father?”

“Er - no.”

“Are you in league with fathers?”

And since you can NOT prove that you are NOT a father, nor a father-sympathiser, you are politely but firmly escorted from the bus.

Could this happen in Australia? Seems unlikely to me, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Perhaps a local expert, such as Pete from Freaked Out Fathers, could shed some light on this matter.

 

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