February 21, 2009 at 12:00 pm (Dan) (BBQ CAKE, BBQ GLORY, consumerism as life plans, guys buying things is rad, hey guys buy some things, probably gotta stop writing 2.5k words about nothing, RAMPANT!)
ok, a list of things I want is probably a bad thing to post, because: seriously who cares about this crap I want to buy? And if I have enough money to buy these things then I am already a bad person and a horrible member of the bourgeois (incidentally, I have invented a colour: bourgeoise, the weird shade of purple/blue a plutocrat turns when their platinum amex gets rejected), and so my ideas are bad and I should feel bad.
My (pathetic, useless) justification is that inspiring needless wants in others is, like, practically a public service, due to STIMULUS RESPONSE. So, check out all my civic duties, right here:
A motherfuckin’ barbequeue!
But not just any barbequeue. I am constrained by many things in my BBQ purchasing habits. The primary constraint is, hey, I live in a flat, man, this shit don’t conduce to a BBQ. There is no storage place I could put a BBQ which is not in my flat, which would not result in me being sans BBQ in, like, a couple of days. That’d suck, because a BBQ is not a minor investment, and some dudes who racked my BBQ enjoying the fruits of my government-mandated money from nowhere is not the kind of system I can support.
I would be forced to vote Liberal, for fuck’s sakes, due to this travesterial (it is like a ministerial, only you put Alexander Downer in as well.) process. And, well, no. I’d rather burn my money over my puny, pitiful stovetop than ever have that happen.
So! Space constraints! Also portability is a thing, because a BBQ must come with me, wheresoever I go. I cannot be moving in a year or so and leaving my BBQ behind. That way also lies madness, and fits of rage.
Also, this terrible desire I have to individuate myself through the purchasing of mass-produced objects means that I need to get a BBQ that no-one else is going to have (this also helps later, after some dudes nick off with it, to identify it as my own sweet BBQ, and bring them to Justice [he is a guy I know who frowns, amongst other things, on people who steal BBQs. Actually, on reflection he probably doesn’t frown. He enjoys his work.]).
Also I would like to be able to cook things that I currently cannot cook due to my oven being an unpredictable beast, barely caged by its white enameled walls. Sometimes, it is hot as fuck. Sometimes I might as well briskly rub whatever it is I am trying to cook against the wall, or apply matches to its surface, in order to induce the chemical reactions I require. This makes making things like bread or cakes pretty much impossible. I can make cheesecake, however (man, can I make cheesecake!). I don’t know why. It treats them right. But I cannot make a roast and have correctly cooked meat and vegetables. It is an impossibility, an impossibility which leaves me sad, lonely and heartbroken on many a Sunday evening.
So whatever, enough backstory, here is the BBQ I am gonna buy when I have money, guys: The Small Kamado as featured on that page. Secretly it is a Grill Dome, from the states, but we will pretend, as they do, that it is an Australian product.
This BBQ! It will allow me to cook things! At all temperatures! From 100c (seriously! maintaining 100c for like 20 hours is something you can do with this BBQ which lets you do crazy slow roasts which, oh man, I cannot even talk about it it will be so delicious) to like 600 (I will be able to properly cook a pizza! this is important to me, for reasons. Also, properly cook at pizza in like 40 seconds).
Anyway it will be great and I will cook a cake on my BBQ and people will come from miles around to marvel at the finely smoked aroma of my chocolate mudcake, and wonder how I have produced such a prodigy. Hells yes.
Some running shoes.
I don’t know what kind because to research shoes on the internet, when what you are interested in is the opinion of a learned professional shoeist, is a game for mugs, and fools. I need a professional shoeist becase my feet are kind of prone to fear, histrionics and arch failure, which I would rather avoid as I attempt to get myself able to run far enough to survive the zombie hordes without being so out of breath that I cannot scream, either for help, or that I am a human still, don’t taze me bro, oh shit that is an assault rifle.
Either of those things are things I can conceivably need to scream, as I run from the zombies towards the waiting ranks of the Armed Forces of Australia. You know.
So yeah. I need shoes in which I can run without developing a club foot, a shin splint, or a… thigh…. I cannot think of the reasonable progression from club to splint to…
Paddle-pop stick. Yes.
I do not want a paddle-pop stick in my thigh so I require shoes which are suitable for my feet. And for that I need a professional and to hire a professional I need money, so that he does not fit me for shoes and then look on, forlorn, as I excercise my new-found fleetness of foot to fuck off. Fast. As that would be kind of sad.
But this is important, probably even more important than the BBQ (Which is very important!), because my whole goddamn life depends on it. Not just because of zombies, though that is, as always, a highly salient feature, but because I am unhealthy and that needs to stop. Right now! Or, at least, very soon, because otherwise it might be too late.
Zombies can strike without warning.
One Hundred of the cheapest thing on DealExtreme.
Now, you need to know about DealExtreme. This is not optional, this is a critical part of your internet.
DX is the place you go when you need that thing which you could probably buy from paddys market, or somewhere in Chinatown, anyway, for about $20, only you don’t need it RIGHT NOW, and you need it for maybe two bucks.
Alternately it is the place you go when you are planning a life of high-tech crime interspersed with Ninja Hijinks, and thus need to lay in significant supplies of blank RFID fobs, RFID cloners, lockpicks, cell-phone and GPS jammers, shuriken, weaponised fans (just in case) and, I dunno, some “Soft Wrapped Fluffly Romantic Love-Cuff Stainless Steel Handcuffs”. In case, of course, of stunningly attractive counter-spy. It is important to be prepared.
Yes so anyway. The most beautiful thing about DX, more beautiful even than the fact that they add new miscellaneous products to their range every day, is that there is free shipping.
Everything ships, to your door, for free.
It doesn’t matter what it is, it goes in the parcel and it comes to your house, for not one cent more than the price of the original gadget.
That, my friends and colleagues, is a beautiful thing (actually I think some of the more expensive things make you use the paid shipping, but I think they all include that in their price, and they auto-bump all the other things you buy up to expensive shipping for no money, too).
So, because DealExtreme has brought so much joy to my life, because their shipping policies are so unrelentingly generous, because they deliver things to my work address by default due to paypal…
I am forced into action.
I am forced to buy, not one, not twenty, but one hundred of whatever the cheapest thing is on their site (I will look this up in a minute if I can!).
But I am forced, by inescapable laws of comedy, to buy them one at a time.
100 separate orders = 100 separate packages.
They’ll ship the same day.
They will arrive in two lots, probably, at work.
In a giant mail sack.
All of the mail in the mail sack will be for me.
I will also order one thing about the same size that I really want, so I have to open an inordinate number of packages to get my thing that I want.
I predict that this will cause moral outrage and intense amusement at my place of work, and that everyone in the building will be pleased to get, for themselves, a flashlight shaped like a pig.
The reissued Paul’s Boutique.
So, this is basically one of the best albums of all time. I do not care if you do not like the rap, or hip-hops, or the flibberty-gibberts. It doesn’t matter.
This album invented modern music. And also the mash-up. So you should buy it with your cashdollars, because you never did spend no money for that Best of Bootie album, did ya?
(I know it is not actually possible to pay for that album in a meaningful way. Shh.)
Plus, you know, the Beastie Boys? They are getting old, now. Old, with families. Their families need to be STIMULATED, you know, ECONOMICALLY. So that they can unstrap themselves from gurneys, and shamble into the studio for one last hurrah (before the next last hurrah). But mostly you should own this album because it is TOTALLY GREAT. I would like to re-own this album so that the bass could, if I had one frozen testicle, shatter it.
This is not a condition from which I suffer, but I like to know that, if I did, there’s an answer, and that answer is within my grasp.
Plus! Eight foot poster! Vinyl! (actually I think I own Paul’s Boutique on vinyl already, but I don’t have a record player so this should not be an inducement for me. But look how much it is anyway! Weird.
NUMBAR FIVE OR LOWAR
I don’t know. A bunch of things from Ikea, for organising spaces, and places.
NO MORE KITCHENWARE DAN YOU HAVE ENOUGH KITCHENWARE SERIOUSLY (no I do not, shut up capsdan).
Hefty storage lockers! Which I will use as incidental furniture, like chairs, for people.
Maybe another freezer, so there’s enough room for me to keep all the food things I want to have in my freezer at any given time, like stock, so I can make soups and stews and rice more delicious than one can even imagine, in one’s pre-stock-rice state. Risotto, also. These are things I would like to have because I would like to have, on hand, and easily accessed, the accountrements and core components of simple healthy meals, because I would like, as mentioned above, to be less unhealthy than I am currently.
Because of the zombies, of course.
SPEAKING OF WHICH GUYS
A weapon! Or, actually, small-arms training.
I think I would prefer to know how to shoot a pistol at things and not get scared and drop the gun or shoot things which are not the things I was aiming at, nominally.
This is also a zombie-preparedness move, because, if the world does succumb to the inevitable processes of the Zombocalypse, and should I turn out to be, as seems logical from my lived experience, the protagonist, or at least someone who hangs out with the protagonist, I will inevitably end up with either a chainsaw, a shotgun, a pistol, or some combination of the aforementioned.
I can deal with chainsaws because I grew up 40 metres from a rural area (no, seriously. Across the road was rural. Where I lived? Not rural. You have no idea how much this pissed me off when it came to talking to CentreLink. Fuckers). But because I did not actually grow up in a rural area, I never got around to learning to shoot small rifles, shotguns, etc.
In the grim future where there is only war, people of my type will be looked on favourably as an easy source of meat which won’t put up too much of a fight.
So I’d like to learn that. And/or some kind of martial art but let’s not get too crazy here. Possibly it is crazy (but I do not wish to possess a firearm, just be proficient. It can be my extra human feat that I have just in case).
Plus man I have this terrible need to know things, it is destroying my life and might make me do a Master of International Relations or some shit.
So that’s what I will buy. Things to help me eat, things to help me run, things to help me… well, make a mockery of at least one working day, things to… help me eat, again, and then things to help me hunt the weak. I mean, uh, defend self against other.
I don’t know if any of my life plans are revealed in these purchasing plans, but I fear that, if they have, they are terrible plans from a terrible person who should be avoided as he could snap at any time.
On the other hand, I hope to have stoked within each of you, my dear readers, the unconquerable fires of capitalism, so you, too, will do your part to support the state and support your mate.
Credit cards to the ready! NGO!
also, my plan, at this point in my post, is to cunningly reveal the circumstances of my life, and the direction I plan to take it in, through RAMPANT CONSUMERISM. Let’s see how that pans out.
Seriously, check out this video. It is fucking mental. I cannot get my head around the kind of mind that chooses that picture, to sit there, doing NOTHING, for this whole song. Man.
40 seconds? I want it now!
Fluffly. Just think about that word. And yes, I mean fluffly, though I don’t actually know what fluffly means. That is what these handcuffs are. Would you (would anyone?) be comfortable having fluffly things involved in their romantic life? I am unsure!
It might also be important to have the most awful thing you can think of, and actively consider yourself being involved in, on hand, as a sort of test. You whip out the fluffly handcuffs, but kind of ha-ha, like a joke, and play it by ear from there.
Or! Probably that should never be done, ever. Christ.
There are nearly 100,000 comments on this video. Holy crap.
ngo is a meme now.
P.S. the Revolution, in this case, is three months of back-pay. Aww yeah. Coming at me, like, next Thursday! Until then, I am: so fucking broke, man.