The rest of them can be found here.

Scanning this post quickly, it’s obvious that I haven’t proofed it or even finished it off - given this happened over a year ago, I’m not even gonna bother trying to finish it off but given I put at least 10 mins of effort into it, I might as well post it.

Anyways, onto the post……..

——————————–

mmyarrgh the pain!

I think I may have pulled a muscle last night during my midnight drunken stumble through the dark and deserted alleyways of kuta.

When in Bali, I walk.

A lot.

Although taxis are a bargain, walking seems the way to go - never seem to do enough of it at home, so i might as well to 15 times as much overseas. After 1 night, my battle wounds are beginning to show. A bung left foot, 2 nasty blisters (who knew $35 thongs could do so much damage) and a mean bruise on my hip. Not so sure about the bruise - I don’t get them easily.

Was I in a fight? Was I at a rodeo?

Did I decide juggling bricks would be a good idea?

dunno.

Last night was the first night in a while that I attempted sleep with no sleeping tablets. Bad idea.

Havin’ a belly full of whiskey, combined with half a day of trekking through the urban jungle - I assumed I’d be knocked out cold. Round about 4AM though I had another sleepwalking episode. I stumbled round the room wondering where I was and tried to leave. I couldn’t find the key (which was in the door), so I gave up then went back to bed. No damage done, but worrying nonetheless. I don’t particularly want to be wandering the hotel gardens naked. Might find myself being kidnapped by that 60 year old bloke who keeps looking at me funny from the porch of his villa. If he is thinking about brutally ass raping me, it wuold be nice if he smiled when I walk past - or at least buy me a few drinks. Common courtesy is expected from everyone in bali. Even potential creepy old sodomising rapists.

I’m having lunch now - first proper meal in 24 hours. Decided to skip the complimentary brekkie at the hotel. No guests seemed to be eating there so chances are I’d be consuming reheated fried noodles or one of the staff’s packed lunches. The Bali Aussie restaurant seemed to be the only place with people in it within limping distance. The more people in a restaurant, the better odds of getting fresh food and lowering the chance of getting a nasty case of the shits.

Thats what the tourist books say anyway.

If those books told me that jamming a chopstick up my left nostril was a sure fire way to getting clean ice in my coke, I’d do it.

Oh Lonely Planet, you learned book you.

Food here at this place is rather spicy but I’ve been craving carbs all morning. My head is a little fuzzy but not in the usual post-bourbon way, but more like a flu kind of way. Chances are I’ve probably got that avian disease or a bad case of girl cooties. Haven’t had an injection for that since grade two.. mental note : must touch the invisibility tree before going to the beach again.

With all this pent-up anxiety in me waiting to be released, I figure its time to go and get felt up for cash by some woman I haven’t met before.

That is, get a massage.

With no phone in my room, it’ll be annoying to get coin and use a public phone. I could use the front desk’s phone, but its within ear-shot of the tour desk and ill probably get pounced upon by that grazy Rendo guy who keeps wanting to take me on a private tour of his “very very special volcano”.

Whatever that means.

I slip on my most touristy shirt I could find and step out of the hotel grounds. 30 seconds later, I turn back clutching a handful of brochures which seemed to appear from nowhere. God these guys are good. With my newly aquired pamphlet in hand, I sip on a jacks whilst browsing the services on offer. hmm, a full body massage sounds nice, plus I might even get a manicure too. There were plenty of massages on offer, ranging from a peppermint scrub and rub - i dont particularly want to walk out smelling like a freddo frog.. to a rose oil deep body treatment. The descripton seemed promising - ‘an erotic massage, promising relaxation and a feeling of well-being’. mmmm, erotic eh? I read on: ‘you will leave feeling like a new woman, confident and sexy’.

Yes, I’ve always fantasised about being a woman, but I don’t think I could handle the bikini waxing, make-up and continual oogling by men.

I get that enough already.

Nope, just a traditional massage will do, with no bells, whistles or dig dong removals.

I mosey down to the place. It seems quite classy for the price. I introduce myself to the well spoken receptionist and arranged to get the works done. She invites me to sit next to a giant marble man holding a spear whist they degrease and disinfect the room. As I sat there sipping on my complimentary jasmine green tea, I thumbed through the guest comment book. Nothing but high praise from all.

One comment written by Maureen from Doubleview Western Australia reads: ”best massage I’ve had in years. I came 3 times”.

huh?

perhaps i should change my request…

After a short wait, I’m invited to one of the private rooms. It was a great massage, completely professional and even lasted longer than the hour I paid for. Much better than my usual - she was quick, firm and if she worked on my hamstring muscles any longer, I would have done the same as Maureen from Doubleview.

During the manicure she spoke to her co-worker sitting next to her who was doing a petticure on a very rude japanese lady in her mid 30s. She commented to her friend on how i had really nice hands. I seem to get that comment a lot. really, to me theyre awkward, skinny and my fingers are too long. but i guess i dont know a good hand when i see one. evidentally its my best feature. perhaps tonight i should use them in my next pick-up attempt.

”hey ladies, check THESE out. theyre GORGEOUS! Next to creating adam and eve, hey are the best job that god has ever done. Thats right…. I am the perfect hand job”.

Smooth.

No, stupid.

really stupid.

Well, lunch is over now and I’m getting tired blah blah blahdslfkjdslk

So I’ve decided to resurrect the site slightly.

I still tumblog at thatgrumguy.com however I’ll be posting here every so often.

Enjoy!

[tags] simpsons, homer, peter griffin, family guy mugen[/tags]

What exactly is Joost? Well, for those too lazy to check their website, Joost (in a nutshel) is a TV channel which you have control over.

Kinda like youtube, but slicker and without the junk. A list of their content can be found here.

Iminlikewithyou is… well.. easy and hard to explain…

It’s not exactly a dating site and its not exactly a social networking site either.. They call it a “flirting” site. You can’t just get friends as you would in Virb or Myspace, you have to earn them in eBay-style auctions. Winning an auction doesn’t mean you will get your prize either as the person still has the ability to choose the overall winner.

I find this post the best way to explain the site as well as Calacanis’ podcast here.

I’ve already fallen in love with both sites and hope they don’t vanish into the ether much like many others.

Joost is invite-only until they release their final product to the public, Iminlikewithyou will stay invite-only, quite possibly forever.

If you’d like an invite, hit me up on the comments section of my Virb profile.

Invites for IILWY are for Aussies only - I’m trying to build up the local users.

PS. if you have scored yourself an IILWY invite and are out of the states, sign up using an American zip code (90210) and then change it to your city name in the preferences afterwards. Works for Perth anyways :)

Having no TV, radio or ipod combined with a screwed up foot can severely limit your options for entertainment.

While I’ve been allowing my foot to heal, I’ve been bumming around the hotel for a while. So far I’ve finished reading the 3 novels I recently bought at a second hand book store down the road. Must be a personal record as these weren’t exactly short stories - one book was a hard cover tale about alchemy in the year 1753. Its almost 1500 pages long and heavy enough to knock a man unconscious. I polished that one off in a matter of hours.

Tired of books, I decided to read a copy of Ralph magazine I got at the airport a few weeks ago. I pulled up a sun lounge by the pool and started to thumb through the pages.

10 minutes later, one of the staff approached me. Embarrassed by the situation, he kindly informed me that one of the patrons had found the front cover offending and wanted me to put away the mag. I glanced at the cover - there, a topless holly valance stared lustfully down the barrel of the camera. No nipples, just a hint of side-boob action. Given it was an Islamic week of prayer, I assumed a religious local had spotted it and went crying to reception

Oh boo hoo, go bomb something.

Yeah, I’m goin’ to hell with that comment.

Not wanting to offend, I put away the mag and ordered a bourbon. If I couldn’t stare at 20 year old scantily clad women, at least alcohol can make those 40-something ladies at the other side of the pool look appealing.

ugh.. perhaps not.

This got me thinking.. in a country that heavily censors sex in movies, have a zero tolerance policy on porn and would prefer their women be clothed from head to toe in public, they seem to contradict themselves quite a lot. This was proven 10 minutes later when I decided to go for a quick stroll to the beach. Upon arrival I was granted access to a haven of unadulterated human flesh.

For as far as the eye could see, tanned western skin was on show slowly crisping up in the unforgiving tropical sun. A pair of platinum blonde European teens stroll past me, their attire leaves nothing for the imagination to play with - covered in micro-bikinis, the combined total of lime-green fabric covering the two tourists would barely be enough to fashion a makeshift handkerchief. I turn to see a small group of taxi drivers nudging each other and pointing at the two passers by. One of the guys make eye contact with me and brandishes a toothless grin as he nods towards the barely clothes teens. I choose to ignore him and he goes back to his virtual circle-jerk with his mates.

Throughout the afternoon I would see the same scene unfold multiple times- pretty girl walks past wearing a tiny bikini or something so small that at the right angle, you clould see her vulva. This would immediately be followed by a sea of eyeballs following her every move. Occasionally one of these girls would find a reason to stop and bend over in front of me and the wall of gawking taxi drivers. If it wasnt for the roar of the waves, I swear I would have heard a colletive groan of 20 grown men all blow their load in unison.

After 3 hours of this flesh fest, I decided to wander back to the hotel. I had already tanned a few shades darker and was on the brink of developing the dreaded skin cancers. On my way back I spotted young asian couple locked in an almost violent game of tonsil hockey. Her hands rubbing his back all over like a blind person reading the latest braile edition of penthouse. The male of the promiscuous exhibitionistic couple were a bit more adventurous than hers, working her front like a 6 year old moulding pladough. This softcore porno continued on until I rounded the corner, the pair seemingly unaware of the hordes of indonesian families walking past.

Several hours later, I’m dining at a seemingly traditional Italian restaurant. I assume to qualify as a “traditional” Itlian restaurant, you simply need to have pizza on the menu. For the life of me, there was no pasta or any of the other items youd expect to be on offer.

Not even garlic bread.

I ordered a t-bone steak, medium rare. 10 mins later it arrives - welldone. The ’steak’ was as thin as a pancake and was more of a sliver of meat with a sliver of bone embedded in it. there was no T to be seen. Its as if the chef had stapled some beef to the skull of a rat and fried it up.

At the bar, a chorus of wolf whistles erupted from the bar staff. A couple of male diners had decided to take jelly shots from the naked chest of their female friend. Where the hell was THAT on the drinks menu? I ordred a Mai Tai in the hopes of the same treatment.

All I got was a glass with a shitload of booze in it.

Oh well, no huge loss there.

In the end I figured I’ve witnessed enough adult content in one afternoon that could fill a years worth of ralph magazines. But what confused me on the way back to my room was the reason why my magazine was so offensive to the locals?

Perhaps it wasn’t the objectification of the female body - perhaps it was because it was the fact that Holly Valance was on the cover.

Hmm, I guess even the Indonesians know the difference between a talented singer/actor and a skank whore.

kudos to them.

my bad.

Some analysts say this will be the next big thing bringing mass input towards a socially driven news website.

By the looks of day 1’s front page - one thing leaps out and smacks me in the face…..

It’s Myspace.

Sex dogs for dogs? Jessica Alba’s ass?
Awestacular .

http://news.myspace.com/

Its all given me a bit of a giggle to be honest, how many people out there who find me moderately entertaining. But alas, there are bigger reasons why I left.

Firstly, I am NOT in Big Brother, nor have I made it to the top 50 (or whatever). Late last year I auditioned and got far into the audition process but that was it. I did decide to follow total non-disclosure, just in case they change their mind (as well as to mind-fuck with the people around me) but the cut-off date of any possibilities of me being approached passed back in Feb. My recent Myspace depature has nothing to do with me “tying up loose ends” before I get on TV.

So let’s just put that rumor to bed.

Secondly, with a recent change in career and a lot more personal projects on the horizon, I’ve found that I don’t have the time to fuss around with the web. If you need to contact me, I’m easily reachable on YIM/MSN and eMail (heck, I’m connected to all 3 of them 24 hours a day).

Finally - Myspace had barred my account on 7 different occasions over a short period of time for no reason whatsoever. It’s as simple as that. I don’t want to find myself jumping through hoops everytime their service is interrupted - that’s not how it should work.

So c’mon! it’s me we’re talking about. Widdle ol’ grum.

No need to get your panties in a twist.

The really fabbotacular folks at Zonk! Magazine will soon be launching a new section called “People”.

People will be about.. uh.. people… yeah…. cool!

Yes! the COOL Perth people.. of, PERTH!

And quite possibly other places in OZ once they boom and turn into some super clusterfucktacular behemoth of an online publication. But in the meantime, Perth will do.

Anyways, if you are one of the gorgeous and cool people who happens to inhabit this lovely city (much like myself) and you happen to be hosting an event for equally cool and gorgeous people (no, uncle Bazza’s 30th birthday BBQ doesn’t count) then why not drop the fine folks at Zonk an eMail and get one of their paparazzi staff to pop by and photograph yourself passed out on the floor of the Art gallery whilst Melinda goes through your wallet and steals my credit card and buys herself a wanky piece of deco art and forgets that you’re still lying there covered in your own vomit which is starting to dry that materialistic heartless bitch….

WHY? WHYYYYY????!?!!??!!

Huh?

Damn acid flashbacks.

Er, where was I?

Oh yeah..

If you aren’t cool and trendy like me and are just hosting a party which isn’t really up to paparazzi standards, why not read their online publication anyway. Their fashion tips and trend setting ways are to die for!

Oh, such a sad occasion.

4 years have passed, 1500 comments left, almost 3000 friends made and a handful of stalkers.. an era has passed.

Fortunately with my newfound busy-ness, this has probably come at the best time - I simply don’t have the time for Myspace. But the social networking bug is still there, so I have decided to move onto Virb at virb.com/grum. Virb is what myspace tries to be but fails miserably. It is a gorgeous site and the CSS is delicious to play with. At the moment my profile does look a little like a dog’s breakfast but I’ll sort that out in the near future.

Hopefully this means I’ll free up some time to get back to blogging and writing the book.

Hope everyone had a tops long weekend.

Cheerio!

And thats tops.

But for the rest of us, we are all presented with a long weekend full of chocolate eggs, celebrating religious types and really, really bad TV.

Thats why the fine folks at TikiBarTV have released an episode of their podcast dedicated to the game of The Bunnies. Bunnies, as you all know is what Easter is to the rest of us who don’t go to church and sing Kumbaya (they do that right?). Apparently some gigglepot decided that chocolate easter bunnies and eggs would be ace for the rest of us heathens who will burn in hell sometime past tomorrow.

But what if you don’t like chocolate bunnies?

I know I’m not a huge fan of chocolate bunnies - it adds to my already huge posterior. .. so what can I do to celebrate the weekend of bunnies?

Well, why not celebrate these bunnies by getting absolutely trashed.

Why duh!

Enjoy and drink irresponsibility.

Oh, don’t bother about this safe sex thing as well - we don’t have enough pregnant teenagers these days.

revver(210614)

[tags]david hicks, guantanamo bay, spoof, cribs[/tags]