Hi, everybody!

My name is Julia. I am 21 years old, which is actually just a little younger than my boss. I think that he has removed most references to his age, on the blog, but he is actually only in his early twenties. I think that my boss has mentioned me a few times. I am his assistent. My mother knows his mother and his mother knew from my mother that I was looking for a job. It is cool being a personal assistant, and all, but some day I would like to work with animals. I told my boss that, and he said "Oh, allow me to introduce you to Mark". I don't know entirely what he meant by that. Today, I will be writing the blog, because the Master, or Doctor, he was not entirely clear on what he wanted to be called the other day, when he suddenly decided to give himself a new nickname. Oops, forgot what I was writing. Anyway, he always complains that he doesn't update the blog as much as he should update the blog. Between fighting that nasty ol' man out on the lawn, washing his hands and just being lazy, he don't have as much time as you think. Right now, I think that he is watching really old episodes of something called Doctor Who. It is kind of weird, a really old man and his granddaughter and her teachers, and they are travelling in some grey box. Ofcourse, everything is grey in those old TV-shows. My boss likes to go straight to those features that he use, so he has most of his things on that thing where the computer remembers the name and the password, so you just have to press "OK".

So, wauw, I guess that I should tell you what he did, right? Yesterday, that mean old Mr. Denby, did my boss tell you that Mr. Denby yelled at me and ruined that nice sandwich I had made for him, but then my boss made me feel better by shooting stuff at Mr. Denby? Anyway, Mr. Denby was dancing on the lawn, with no pants. It was really gross, with those old man legs. I was glad that he was wearing underwear, but I wish that it was not those tighty-whitys. I would have shot at him, but I forgot to pick the tennis balls up, a couple of weeks ago, and now they are all gone. I told my boss, but he just said "Maybe he didn't deserve to become pan-pan-pantsman!". I don't know what that meant. He said that he would tell me later, after someone had beaten the Dar-legs, or something. But then he had fallen asleep, so I haven't found out yet what he meant. I don't want to go near Mr. Denby, because he is mean, so I called Ashley. She lives right across the street. I like her. She sometimes like to hit people, I once saw her kick a date, after he grabbed her and kissed her on the mouth, but she is fun to hang around with. I am here, most of the time, so I don't get to spend much time with other girls. My boss has said that it is alright for me to take days off, sometime, and that I should just ask, and he would not tell his parents so I would still get paid. It is actually his grandmother that pays my salary, because she is really rich, I don't really understand why, but... Wauw, I have written a lot. My boss always tells me "skip to the end", when I lose concentration while talking, but he is in the other room, and you can't talk to me, since you are all really far away. I guess that it is much harder to write a blog than I throught. Anyway, Ashley ran to Mr. Denby with a baseball bat, and Mr. Denby ran really fast, for a guy with pants around his ancles.

Oh, I can hear my boss asking for a cup of tea, so I better be going.

Hugs and Kisses, Julia.

So apparently my list of potential friends suddenly took a steep dive

Apparently, me and my little gang is not the hot property that we had previously assumed our selves to be. A lot of the potential friends have turned us down, after the interview. What comes as complete surprises to us and our selfesteems is that a violent chick, a tall, sexcrazed, perpetual partier, a constantly chipper girl and a prisoner with OCD are not the material looked for in friends.

So, we are down to one on our list. And frankly, he failed the interview. He kept asking about what kind of underwear we wore, and what colour. He claimed that it would bring us closer together. And if there is one thing that you do not want to hear from your male friends in that context, it is the word "Commando". So I had to get everything that Mark ever sat on, in my house, disinfected. And that is why I currently has almost no furniture.

I read that Paris Hilton is looking for new friends too

85.000 wants to be her friend. Bah, I got 85 applicants, quality friend material, all of them. Except for Gangbang Bob, against whom, it turns out, the courthouse will automatically give out restrainingorders if you ask. They always print out an extra batch, so you can give some to other people as gifts. Through strategic handling out of these, he is technically not allowed within ten miles of me.

So much for that. Anyway, we have had some auditions. We have narrowed it down, a bit. Or, we weeded out the worst ones, like Hank Petkiller and Trishia Hitler. She claims that it is short for Hitlerstein, but she still called me ugly. We had some sort of goth, I guess, Bloodsport Q. Ravengood Darkness-McHorrorshow. She annoyed me. On the upside, we had some lesbians in. As it turns out, butch girls are good company. Gotta have at least one of those. Mark wanted us to hire the lesbian photo-model. We tried telling him that he was not gonna score, but he just kept saying "Oh, ye of little faith". Coincidently the exact same words said by Ashley a day later, when auditioning gay men, about Tall Ted Johnson. I am still arguing for the philippine girl.

Have I ever told you about my uncle Brian?

My uncle was the 1974 world champion in hide-and-seek. They seached everywhere for two days, before they found him, in a cupboard. He competed again in '75, and they searched six months, before they found him, hiding in the same cupboard. No one had throught to look for him, there. It was not until my grandmothers maid Consuella was springcleaning the house, that she opened the cupboard. In '76, being the champion two years in a row, he decided to compete yet again. They searched everywhere, for him, for five years, without as much as a clue to where he was hiding. He was finally declared legally dead in '83, but the seeker never gave up. He frequently searched through my grandmothers mansion. It was not until 1987 that he looked in the cupboard, but no trace of my uncle. The seeker eventually died in 1995, having spend 19 years and millions of dollars on a manhunt spanning the globe. And last week, after 32 years, my uncle was found my a newly married couple in New Zealand, who was moving into their first house together, in a cupboard in the kitchen. They have no idea how he survived, but he seems pretty fit, and excited about the 2008 hide-and-seek championship. The hide-and-seek society has had to have a whole new kind of medal made. It was argued that he cheated, by travelling halfway across the globe, but they were unable to find anything against it in the rulebook, so he has been deemed the champion of the 1976 hide-and-seek championship, and the previous winner, having been found after an hour, hiding behind the curtains, have been stripped of the title. The toughest for my uncle has been how much society has changed. He loved disco. And he was really looking forward to the remake of King Kong. And we can't talk about Happy Days, because he claims that he taped it.

Something weird going on

Denby is out on my lawn, with a microphone, a loudspeaker, a small screen of some sort and what appears to be eight japanese businessmen. What the heck is he up to... Wait a minute, microphone, japanese businessmen, God help me, it is karaoke!

Dammit, I am out of Tennisballs. I told Julia to pick them up after each use. Oh, they are singing "Feelings". The one day that Ashley is out shopping with her sister, across town. Denby, you sly bastard. Mark is in Dear Town, on work. My only hope is Julia, who appears to be singing "Mandy", with the businessmen.

Well, two of us can play this game. I have one trick left.

Well, it appears that TV has lied to me. Japanese people are not afraid of Godzilla. Or, at least not my Godzilla figure. I am all out of ideas...

Awww, and now the neighbours are joining in. They are singing "We are the champions".

Ah, Ashley got my message. She is returned home, in order to kick ass all over the street. And, she is singing "Final Countdown". What is this strange power that Karaoke has over people?

I need a man who hates people to much to join into karaoke, and who is violent enough to stop them all. One whose very nature demands that he must stop other people from having fun. I need someone like Mr. Tarkanian, Denbys boss. I once saw him eat a dog. In his defence, it was a small dog. A chihuahua that belonged to Janice in accounting. The dog was afraid of Mr. Tarkanian, and to calm it down she said "Oh, that nice man is not going to bite", so Mr. Tarkanian had no choice but to prove her wrong. Either that, or a woman was going to be correct, and that ain't happening around Mr. Tarkanian.

How I have to do this is, I have to call his secretary, leave an anonomous message about people having fun on this adress, and I have to stay away from the windows, so he won't see me. I managed to wave Julia and Ashley inside, but they just want to go back out. If only I was the kinky type, so I would have had some handcuffs, but I have to make due with duct tape. I don't know how long it will take Mr. Tarkanian to asskick everyone not in their house right now, but I pity all those outside.

Going to the movies. Or, staying for the movies.

So, according to my motley crew... I am now being informed by the Blonde sitting in my couch, that if I refer to my friends as being my motley crew ever again, there will be blood. So, according to my friends, I spend much of my time whining about the things I miss on the outside, so they will, occasionally, attempt to recreate the feeling of those things. For example, I was recently complaining about not being able to go to the cinema. So, they decided to give me a home theater.

By home theater, I mean, ofcourse, that they replaced my chairs with more uncomfortable ones and put them in three rows. I sat in the middle row, and Mark, wearing a tophat, sat right in front of me, chewing the noisiest food available. Behind me sat Ashleys nephew, who was screaming and kicking my seat. Next to me sat Julia, who was laughing inappropriatly and never shut up. Y'know, talking to the screen. "Don't go in there", "Tell her you love her" and "Eat a sandwich, girlfriend", while she swung her arms in a halfcircle and snapped her fingers. I am not sure what brought the last one up. And I have no idea where Ashley got that pizza she was eating. Or why. Who the hell brings food to the cinema?

Anyway, Mark is insistint that we turn this place into a nightclub next time, but clubbing is not one of the thing that I miss. I am not sure what happened, but the last time I went clubbing, I woke up in a tank heading for Berlin. I am not sure what I was doing there, but I found a note in my pocket that said "Milk, sugar, eggs, revenge for WWII", so I have to assume that I was going shopping.

How to make things funnier

Being stuck indoors, I have to find ways to entertain myself. My blog is one of those things, movies is another. Stuff like that. But, when you have seen everything before, sometimes they need a little boost. For example, the first Indiana Jones movie, a good movie on its own, but try this, imagine that Marion is stinking drunk in all of her scenes. It makes it a whole lot funnier. Make little comments as to her drunkeness.

Indiana Jones II: Imagine that the blonde is a raging slut. Or, ragier slut.

Imagine that Herb and Jamaal, a lame comic if there ever was any, was a meta-comic, pondering over the state of the comic industri through bad art, unlikable characters, clumsy sentences and forced punchlines. It suddenly become an intelligent satire on everything that is wrong with comics today, through amplified imitation.

Oh, the possibilities are endless.

Lookin' for friends in all the right folders

We have nearly gone through all the applications. We have picked most of the people that we wish to have in for the audition. Black people, gay people, muslim people, and a whole heap of asian girls. We have a guy who might be spanish, we're not entirely sure. The big scoop is a black, gay muslim, which would be a timesaver.

The toughest part turned out to be to explain to Julia why they could not all be my friends. She could sort of understand why the guy with the swastika tattooed on his forehead was not in the running, even if she liked his Charlie Chaplin moustache.

But, if you don't get a callback, rest assured, Julia has declared you all to be her friends. Except for Gangbang Bob, who she decided should probably be left alone, after she read his file. Ashley has declared you all her mortal enemies, and if she ever meets you, she will poke your eyes out with a spoon that she carries in her pockets, for reasons we decided would better be left unanswered. Especially Gangbang Bob. Mark has spend the last 6 hours repeatedly calling hot women from the cast-out pile. Especially Miss Petulia Rinta-Runsala, for some reason. Presumably because she listed her nickname as being "Easy", and her motto as "Easy come, Easy go". I actually knew her back in school. Back then her nickname was "slut" and her motto was "I will have sex with anyone who cares to ask, but are you on the soccer team, you won't even have to ask, just drop your pants and I will be right there". I am happy to see that she refined it a bit. To bad that the monestary didn't work out for her, though.

Anyway, we will be calling around, and remember, no matter what, you will always have a friend in Julia. Except you, Gangbang Bob. You stay away from my home, y'hear?

awakening viciously early

No, I did not go to bed early. I was awoken, 8 o'clock sharp, by the very feeling of chipperness in my house. Now, I am not a chipper person, and neither is anyone that I know, so this feeling disturbed me. I decided to just jump right into it, and opened my eyes. In front of me stood a late teen/early twenties, , short, redhaired, girl, with the biggest smile I have ever encountered.

"Hi!"
"Hi?"
"I'm Julia".
"Hello Julia".
"Hello!"
"Can I ask you a question, Julia?"
"Sure thing!".
"What are you doing in my house?"
"Oh, I am your new assistant, silly. Your momma hired me".
"Already?"
"Yeah, your momma and my momma are both in the Womens Welfare society, and she knew that I was looking for a job and that you needed an assistant".
"Okay, then".
"Oh, and I talked to your dad, and to answer his question, no, sexual favours are not part of my job".
"That's quite alright".
"Though I'm sure that people who do perform sexual favours for money are nice people".
"I'm sure they are".
A short beat.
"Well".
"Well what?"
"Well, aren't you gonna get up, Mr. Sleepyhead?"
"I might as well".

So, I got up. The newspaper was already in, which was good. What I usually do is that I stick a foot outside the door, and wait for the police to arrive, then ask for them to bring the newspaper. Breakfast has been made. A bowl of cornflakes, a peeled orange, and a cool glass of orange juice. So, I could get used to this assistant stuff. Then Denby showed up, and started dancing on my lawn. I am not entirely sure where he was going with this, but I know that I was slightly annoyed. Julia seemed to enjoy it.

"What a happy, happy man, you got on your front lawn".
"Yep. That's Denby... I think that he might be insane".
"No one that happy can be insane".
I let that comment slide. Denby continued dancing for a couple of more hours, before Julia took pity on him.
"I should bring him something to eat. All that dancing can really make you hungry".
So she made him a sandwhich. A nice one too. And she brought it to Denby. I was watching TV at the time, but from the frontyard I heard.

"Do you think I'm stupid? This is some kind of gag, right? Did your friend spit in it? Did he fill it with chili, so he could laugh at me? Is the filling made of plastic?"
Then he threw the sandwhich to the ground, and Julia came running in crying. Then I had to spend the next couple of hours comforting her, after she ran into my bathroom and locked the door.

"That nasty ol', mean ol' Mr. Denby. I made him a sandwhich, and he just yells at me".
"Yeah, you know, some people are just rotten".
"Why did he do that?"
"That man is not quite right in the head".
"He is just mean".
"That was kind of mean, yeah".
"Do you like me?"
"I guess..."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I think I do".
Then she ran out of the bathroom and gave me a hug. Her smudged make-up made a near perfect smileyhead on my T-shirt. Then I learned her to operate the tennis-ball shooter against Denby, who was still on the lawn.

A word of advice: Never get on the wrong side of a chipper person, because, boy, can they shoot.

So my parents came over

I got around to tell them about my little... deed. My mother spent the entire day talking about her son, the criminal. "When the ladies down in the Womens Wellfare Society talks about their children, what am I supposed to say? So both your son and daughter are Doctors, Mrs. Aquino? What about your son, Mrs. Smart? A lawyer, really. Mine, oh, he is a criminal who gads about the house all day. Can my son come to the mother-son race? No, he is a vicious felon, who has been locked up for life. NOT THAT HE WOULD HAVE COME ANYWAY!", "Mother, I still have two sisters, don't I? Bring them to the WWS". "Well, we hardly see Amelia, anymore, out partying all night with that homosexual and those weird girls. And Malou, she still lives at home with us, and spends the day eating our food and watching our TV. But at least she is not a disgusting criminal, much less one who commits crimes as an excuse to be lazy. Next you will be smoking pot". "No, I quit that last year. Too hard to find an honest dealer, these days". "Don't say that. No son of mine has ever smoked pot. Say something, Harold!". "Yes, boy, how are you ever going to get a girlfriend, or a squeeze?". "A what? Nevermind. Mother, father..." "Dammit, boy, call us mom and dad". "Mom and dad, it happened, I can chose this or jail". "If you were in a cell with a big guy named Bubba, at least I would be sure that you were getting something". "Hush, harold...". "And I hear that the women dig prisoners. You will recieve proposals and letters from women wanting casual sex by the dozen". "Harold, shut up!". "Yes, dad, please".

So went the day. They insisted that they hire an assistant, for me. Or, mother did. Father wanted to hire me a prostitute, but that notion was vetoed. So, not only do I have to audition for friends, of which we have recieved dozens of applications, but I have to cope with an assistant too.

I should get a themesong

Something grand, to show how great I am. How about...

[To the tune of "Minnies Yoohoo"]
There's a guy just sittin' in his house
Had some candy stolen by a mouse
Neither fat nor skinny
He heard a horses whinny
Mr. Denby on his lawn.
He rode around on the animal
And claimed to be a cannibal
Ashley will turn her heal
and his horsey steal
And you will hear me sing this song
Oh, the ol' Denby yells OW-OW-OW
Ashley hits with a pow-pow-pow
I laugh Haw-Haw
And then my gawd
There would have been less blood with an old hacksaw.
I have seen Mike Tyson bite an ear off.
And Tyson hit someone in the balls
If horses can smell fear
Denby stinks like a rotten deer
And then Ashley calls out
"BooYaaah".


Alright, maybe not like that. That is more like an ode to Ashleys low patience for Denby and her love of horses. She keeps it in her backyard, now, by the way. Sold her car.


Maybe I should just do what all the newer TV-shows are doing: Steal an already popular song, and use that. Like, Dire Strait's "Heavy Fuel", or, "Stuck in the Middle with You". Or "Boredom", by the Buzzcocks. Maybe "Too Bad" by Doug and the Slugs. Oh, there are tons of songs I could use. "Coconut", by Harry Nilson, "Oh, you pretty things" by David Bowie or "Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" by Bob Dylan. I throught about House of Fun, but what does a song about buying condoms have to do with being stuck in a house?

Happy Birthday Grandpa'

86 years old today. Here is to many more.

I got a special program for my computer...

Yes, uhm, I got this... microphone, that records everything I say. Well, I didn't get it, Ashley got it, and it, eh, it writes what I say, into the, uh, computer. Awfully nifty. No that sounds bad, nifty, no. Uuhm, erase? no, thats not right. There is some sort of code for this here sort... of... thing. In the... Manual, here we are, the manual. Christ, [word unrecognised] Lord, look at this bastard. 250 pages. Wha', it can't spell [word unrecognised]? What the [word unrecognised]? One of the worlds most recognised swears, and it don't know it. Idiots. Now, lets see here. Word commands, I guess. Huh? Yes, and page down isDamn, where did I put the phone? I can hear it, but from where? Ah. Hello? Hello mother. Fine, fine. No, still single. He's fine too. No, he died. Visit you? Mother, you know that I'm... Cripes, I knew that there was something I had forgotten to tell you. Uhm, can I call you later? No, don't put dad on, nonononoHello father. Yes, "dad". Fine. Single. Fine too. Dead. If I am doing what? No, I did not know that phrase. And that's personal. That is not a no. Not a yes either. Still not a no, it is private, is what it is. Dad, I have to go, I am in the middle of something, here. No, not a girl. A work thing. No, don't put mom on, no, hello mother. Yes, I have to go. Give father my regards. Love you too. I will call you later, when I am done here. Bye. "Ride the skinbus to tunatown", crazy old man. Now, where was I, oh yes, the erase command iAlright, now we are cooking. Change line is
Here we go. hehe.
Fun word.
Yes, page up isalrighty, and publish is

I need more minority friends

I have no openly gay friends, no black friends, no asian friends, no muslim friends. I mean, I know some, but it is not like we hang out. I have a couple of minority friends over the internet, ofcourse, but none in "real life", as it were. It is not as if I go out of my way to not meet any, but it never evolves into friendship.

So, I have decided to hold auditions. Are you in a minority group and want a white friend, come on by. Your age is between 18 and 30. Send a headshot, and a resumé with recommendations from current and former friends, a list of hobbies and interests, and, ofcourse, name, adress, phone-number and your minority.

All auditions will be conducted by myself, Ashley and Mark. To prevent overflow of young, asian, women, Ashley has been asked to audition them alone, as I has a soft spot for asians, and Mark has a soft spot for anything with breasts.

All applications are welcome, including white men and women. Now, this is equal opportunity, but I already have white male friends, so your application may be prioritized lower than other applicants. I know no openly gay people, so your application may be prioritized higher. Otherwise, the applicants will be selected based on the resumé and an interview. It is currently not decided how many minority friends is needed, but it is expected that it would be anywhere between 5 and 20, possibly more. Hope to see you there.

Today is what?

I was just told that today is the first of aprils, a day to make fun of fools and their jibba-jabba. I then realize that my previous post sounds like an aprils fool. I apologize for that.

So a pipe broke this morning

I immediatle called Dicks Heating and Plumbing. Imagine my surprise when Dick turned out to be Richard Nixon. I know, it sounds like a joke. He was a little older, sure, but it was him. No mistaking those jowels, but he insisted that his name was Dick Krock. "I am a Krock", he kept saying. I was going to call someone, but he was cheaper than most plumbers, so I let it slide. Just to be sure, I got my bugchecker out and looked around, and sure enough, a small transmitter, with the initials RMD, hidden in a potted plant.


That's the last time I use that guy. No, I am calling Elvis' Plumbingservice, next time.