All in the name

Ever seen Hunter? It’s a staple diet here on AFN, American Forces Network, the network for the heroes that make up the US army. (hehehehehe). IN between the constant adverts encouraging the soldiers not to get involved in human trafficking again, they actually have programs. David Letterman, Jay Leno, the human rumblings on General Hospital, they make up our TV schedule. Great isn’t it? And let’s not forget Hunter, a geriatric cop show with panto villains, the occasional Hispanic and this week, Chyna from the WWE. Spoilt I was.

Hunter, an Eastwood cop, is played the less than stellar named Fred Dryer, a moody, laconic single man who keeps the pain inside to fight the good fight. God Bless America. Chyna’s part was limit to action thankfully, though the entire cast seemed to graduate from The Keanu Reeves of the Dramatic Arts. To thank the Lords (though I say this everytime) the show finally ended and I noticed on the credits, one girl who had a speaking part billed as Wasted Chick. That’s something for the resume.

Gabrielle Union? Actress. Went to UCLA. AS she struggled to make the grade, she was allowed to do some modelling……to make some credits up. If I’d be allowed to do that eh? Forget the Russian Dan, chin up, shoulders back, chest out. Nice. That’s it. Yes, yes. That’s good. Give I to me baby.

Ahhh, in my day….

Keep on trucking

Australia with its vast sunset and forever skies gave me quiet but obvious insight into myself and why am I am myself. Meeting old friends from High School, University, travel and work gave me a perspective about the one known as Dan. Its funny when you can suddenly get a mirror glimpse. I can pinpoint when he grew and shaped that tantalising personality and more importantly when Dan moved on.

So what i am talking about. Well a big hand goes out to the boys at Uni, especially those early and late days. And a further bouquet is handed to my good friends who I met while working abroad, especially the Japan boys. You know who you are. Big Dan (gym and burgers) is now a wholly different person from high school. Remembering back to then and the first odd year of uni, I feel embarrassed, not for the wholesome forever friends I still like or the sheer highlights of uni but cos I was either shy or so self-indulgent. It was one extreme to the other. God, some of it was great, just funny as hell. My clean lack of discipline and kid in a china shop mentality opened the world and its sister to me.

So where am I now? Well, I now know who my best friends are, I know what I don’t want and I still don’t know where I’m gonna die but I can tell u, I know where I’ll be next year, I know what I won’t be doing and i’ll keep on trucking. I think I’m doing it for me. I guess I’ll know when I have my next Australia. Talk to ya soon

Hey Whitey

As the world’s beautiful and wannabes look into their heritage and proclaim themselves, an ethnic Colombian-Indian with a hint of Thai and carrying the American passport, holding tiny mirrors to reflect the sun’s rays to their pale spot, Korea is fully the opposite. Knowing their bloodline and living in a purely homogeneous country, they are proud of their supposed pureness. So proud in fact, there are products galore, to change their Mongolian skin to as pale as possible, for that is the fashion here which of course along with the food and the women is proclaimed the best in the world. Along with plastic surgery the craze is to Westernise, or Japanese-ise (don’t say that outloud!), or an alleged return to the colour of the enclosed Kings and Queens. It’s not clear but the timing indicates something is. It all produces an odd clarity like the fusion restaurants that abound but still serve odd tasting crap.

To be white is of such prestige when Christine (part Native Indian) and Victor (of Mexican descent) appeared on the posters at their school, they had been whited up. As her boss said, “to make them more attractive”. But it went to extreme lengths at Namsan Tower cable car departure is a picture of the great black leader Nelson Mandela laughing. I say laughing because he’s looking at a waxwork bust of himself where he looks paler than moi. All those years in prison, fighting the cause of black rights for his South Africans to turn into white. If only he could have got hold of that whitening paste, he’d be out in no time, doing his job, rightly sending those darkies to prison for catching a bus.

Relegation getting clearer

Its always great when the table starts to normalise and the correct teams take their correct places. Normal service has resumed. Newcastle will finish 5th, Arsenal, Chelsea, first and second. And of course its become clearer at the bottom of the table as WBA confirm relegation by appointing Bryan Robson as their new manager.

Bleedin’ eck

After a brief kip, I woke up last night, rolled over to my left and almost cried. Nope, I had a pulled one of my crackers again but my neck screamed out bloody murder. I’m not sure what I’d done but the pain seared into skull and I couldn’t get up. I had to roll myself to reach my feet, desperately holding my neck in a virtual brace.

I decided to sleep it off but naturally in such a fixed position with any movement requiring minute calculations, it wasn’t easy. Then came the mosquitoes and my slumber was forever disrupted. The night passed slowly.

Getting up at 6am as usual, a shower should warm up the muscles and allow me to go to work. Tottering out 20minutes later, after the nightmare of cleaning my teeth, it was all over and I called in. Injuries dont really happen to me. Could have been the gym yesterday afternon but I doubt it. Myabe just time moving in for me, laughing “you ain’t getting away with it this time Dan.”

I sit here now after a few hours rest, still in the fixed position, unable to look left without turning my whole body. It’s kinda funny. I’d be prime prey for a passing hyena right now. But being me, I’ll just see it through. I’ll be alright.

Auf Weidersen

There’s nothing like seeing shaggy Oliver “Prize Cock” Kahn fumble a shot to leave Del Piero of Juventus to knock in a tap out in the six yard box in the 90th minute. that validates the Champions League in itself. From being the best shaggy haired German keeper in the world via world cup final fumble, quick fumble with someone who’s not his wife, to believing that you are bigger than the club or the continent of Europe to this miserable, abject embarrassment. Please retire so I don’t have to look at the slimy, arrogant barnet again.

Bukkoroshite yaru….I’ll hit you till you die.

After 5 weeks on the booze, plenty of food and a lack of exercise, I knew I’d lost the mean, slender machine that triggered Steve Montaya to proclaim “nice ass.” hey, it’s a holiday.

Returning to the office, I got a few comments….wow you’re fat….bus coming through…do u want us to tie two seats together.” I knew it when I got tired chasing a mosquito.

hmmm. I’ve always been a skinny guy especially at school, put on the odd belly but took it back. But glancing at my ankles, I knew the lard and the fan had met. They were huge, puffy, old women-esque. A sneaky belly indeed: he knew he was in trouble, slithered down me legs to the hide-out, so he did. Well that was it.

I headed to the gym and had to sit down after getting changed. Not bothering to warm up, straight on to the bike, with the chaffed thighs. great idea. 8500m later in a mere 15mintues, I’d had it. Off to sort the tits out, I pounded the weights, so she did.

After that red-faced overdose, I weighed myself. 71kgs. Remember me? Before I left, I was 65kgs. That’s a few all-days breakfast, my china. It’ll go, that I know but meeting my doctors the other day, the first comment…”Oh you look healthy.” Yeah? Really? That right? Why I oughta….