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Dec. 20th, 2010


Because I can't write this stuff on Twitter anymore...

Hey guess what LiveJournal:

I made it to thirty. Nine minutes ago, it became the 20th of December: my birthday. My thirtieth birthday. I was sixteen when I first started my online existence, and twenty when I opened this LJ account. I was going to say something about time flying, but when I think back to the early days of this LJ it seems like it was a FERZILLION YEARS AGO. So maybe time doesn't fly at all.

But Happy Birthday to me! Hooray!

PS: I can highly recommend hosting your birthday party a week before your actual day. I've been getting a steady trickle of presents for eight days now.

Jul. 31st, 2009


Jasper Schultz

New Blog Post: McErection.

Jun. 20th, 2009


New Home

I'm not sure what this means for LJ, but I have a new home!

Jasper Schultz

Why the pseudonym? It's a long story involving my inability to secure 'Tophe' in a domain name, the recommendation that a fake name helps with the nastier elements of defamation (shameless libel for all!), and a lifelong fondness for the name 'Jasper' (recently re-ignited by a ridiculously attractive man playing a character called 'Jasper' in a movie. I'd rather not say which movie).

I finally own interweb real estate!

May. 21st, 2009

talk to food

Food With Flair - but not too much flair

There's a cafe down the road from work (and by down the road, I mean five minutes drive - if you are ever in Canberra and you hear my radio station DJs talking about being in the middle of a paddock? They are not joking) that serves the most amazing chicken salad. I couldn't tell you anything else on the menu, because every time I go there I always order it.

It's called Cajun Chicken Salad; and it is like an orgasm with lettuce (and a big hello to all the food fetishists who have just discovered me through Google!).

It occurred to me today, however, that I have no idea why it is called a Cajun Chicken Salad. The ingredients are:

- chicken
- capsicum
- lettuce
- tomato
- bacon
- avocado
- croutons

Is there anything about this particular combination of ingredients that just screams "French-colonised Louisiana"? Not to my knowledge. Then again, my knowledge is limited, but I'm sure there should at least be *some* spice involved. Somewhere. Or bourbon. Am I generalising? Probably.

But then I remembered the salad dressing. It's a honey and poppy seed salad dressing. Honey...and poppy seed. I suddenly realised why they gave it the name Cajun Chicken Salad.

Because Totally Gay Chicken Salad wouldn't sell nearly as well.

May. 10th, 2009

what the frick

Commercial Break...down

As someone who writes commercials for a living, albeit only for radio, I feel like I have a newly imbued right to pull apart any sort of advertising I see and judge it mercilessly. Well why not? Everything I write is judged by at least three people before it even gets anywhere close to being produced; and 65% of the time it's judged by people who have absolutely no clue what they are doing. I figure I am simply Paying It Forward (thank you Kevin Spacey - oh hey, I bet that's the first time anyone has said that in a long time. I mean anyone.)

I'm going to start with a commercial I just saw during a Rove ad break not fifteen minutes ago. I won't lie, I didn't even have the idea for doing this to commercials until it was nearly over, so I am not even 100% sure on what it was advertising - but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it was Special K.

If I had the ability, I would now throw to a visual aid of said commercial in the form of a YouTube clip, but I couldn't find one. Would you be surprised if I told you there isn't a huge number of Special K ads on YouTube? No? Then be surprised, because there are a BUCKETLOAD of them! Too many for my liking. Who is arbitrarily uploading Special K commercials and why aren't they watching porn like normal unbalanced internet addicts? But despite the abundance, the one I actually wanted wasn't there (lending weight to the argument that maybe it wasn't Special K at all?) - so you'll have to make do with my appalling paraphrasing.

So, there's a woman. She's going about the start of her day. How does this woman start her day? Well she starts it by completely ripping off a Berocca commercial, bouncing around her house being followed by an orangey glow.

The VO tells us that with the help of (still not 100%, but probably) Special K, this Berocca plagiarising floozy can handle "anything life throws at her". She can get dressed and stack the dishwasher and make the bed. Well thank goodness she had that (almost certain it was) Special K, huh? I can't tell you the number of times I've skipped breakfast, and have ended up having to eat spaghetti out of my lap, and then sleep on the floor because I've had no plates or clean bedding.

She then races out of the house and into the big bad world, powered by the fibre and goodness of (come on now, surely it must be) Special K. She's unstoppable! She's a force of nature! No matter what life "throws at her", she'll be ready for it! She has the stamina and control to face the horrors of life! Starting with her grueling job as...

...a florist.

A FLORIST?? That's the absolute pinnacle of (absolutely positive it was) Special K's ability? You can handle anything life throws at you as long as it is a chrysanthemum? Look, I'm sure florists get stressed too; I'm just saying if I were trying to market (what I'm almost dead certain is) my cereal, I'd be going a little bit harder than blossoms.

I think I liked it better when they were making giant red Ks out of female body parts. Shoes, knees, lips - remember? Don't worry if you don't - every single on of those stupid ads is on YouTube.

May. 7th, 2009

talk to food

Just Like Every Other Man In Her Life?

Just Like Every Other Man In Her Life

Look, it’s very fashionable right now to sledge Gretel Killeen for her performance as Logies host – and for the most part, rightly so.

But are people doing it for the right reasons?

Most people were sledging her from the minute the news broke that she was signed to host them – three weeks prior to the event itself. These people would have been slagging her off (and: side note – is ‘slagging her off’ not the classiest phrase ever?) regardless of her actual performance; therefore I feel they have no right to be joining in the legitimate ‘slagging off’ now.

I, on the other hand, have long been a fan of the Gret. Enjoyed her stand-up comedy, devoured her books (yes, non-fans, she was at one stage a prolific author!), withstood the woeful ovary overload (ovary-load?) of Beauty & the Beast for her witty opinions, watched Big Brother with blatant disregard to my IQ – and I even managed, through sheer willpower (well, sheer willpower and my dubious media industry connections) to get myself a seat in the audience during one of the Celebrity Big Brother eviction shows, where I muscled my way into the front row for the chance to be interviewed by Gretel live on national television. I got that chance, and we were both amazing.

So, imagine my disappointment when I witnessed her, in all her Harry Potter-esque glory (seriously, that hair cut and bony figure? Whack a pair of round glasses on her and run a cheese knife down her forehead and it’s Daniel Radcliffe), talking about NOTHING BUT HERSELF for an hour and a half (well, six minutes, but whatever) – I was heartbroken. Then there was the woeful death sketch. Then there was the vacillating between bitter barbs aimed directly at her ex-husband and barely concealed flirting with everything in pants. Then there was another forty-five minutes of self-themed talking. At the end of the night I had no choice but to hang up my Gretel Killeen Supporter and cancel my membership to the GK Fan Club.

I had an inkling that Gretel and I were growing apart as people when I heard about the kerfuffle surrounding the new hair cut. As I heard it: after getting the new cropped pixie ‘do, Gretel Killeen flat out refused to be photographed. She had to be forced by Channel 9 to even do a Logies publicity shot – and when she did, it was with hair extensions and a top-hat. The Gretel I knew and loved was fully aware that people didn’t care about her hair that much. This new Gretel was a cold, egomaniacal imposter.

(And the stupid thing about the “hair reveal”? I distinctly remember reading weeks ago that the new haircut was a pixie ‘do - so I don’t understand where the big surprising reveal was supposed to come in – how many different ways can a pixie do a pixie ‘do?)

So I’m sorry, Gretel. People have been telling me for years that I was a fool to support you. From bystanders who had never met you to ex-colleagues from your radio days – everyone said horrible things, but I stood by you. Through thick and thin (and thin, and thin! Lady, when Lisa McCune looks like a heifer next to you, it’s time to rip into a packet of Iced VoVos and enjoy life) I was there for you.

But you have let me down.

I think it’s time we saw other people. There are other TV personalities that are more deserving of my love and support. Cat Deeley, Joel McHale… even Natalie Bassingthwaighte can give me more than you seem to be able these days.

Don’t try and contact me – I have already removed you from my list of interests on my LJ profile.

Apr. 21st, 2009

the dip

My Drawers Are Half Off

Because I believe life would be a lot more fun, not to mention much simpler, if it more closely resembled an episode of Are You Being Served?:

Things I Have Said So Far Today That Could Be Double Entendres:

"I gave my beetroot a good soak this morning." (so my sandwich wouldn't get soggy.)

"Ugh, that's far too hard for me to touch today." (a creative brief I wanted to put off until I have more imagination)

"The curse of being gay - constantly sticky hands!" (I was referring to the application, and constant touching up of, hair product!)

Apr. 5th, 2009


I have a vocal warm up stuck in my head

To sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock,
In a pestilential prison with a life long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock
From a cheap and chippy chopper with a big, black block.

Apr. 1st, 2009


A Picture: Worth a Thousand Words

From now on, if I am ever asked to describe myself - in terms of physicality, personality, or emotion...ality - I will be using the following image.

This image depicts me in a way that words never could. Every clunking, mismatched, awkward thing about me, both inside and out, can be summed up thusly:

This is how I feel today. And every day.Collapse )
what the frick

Southpark Hair

My hair has this despicable habit of looking perfectly acceptable from a flat, front-on angle. This means that as I look up into the mirror, I see my hair sitting in a way that seems acceptable for facing the day.

It's hours and hours later, as I catch myself in reflections from more and more angles, that from EVERY OTHER ANGLE it looks rifrickingdonkulous. Like those three dimensional chalk drawings that dude does on pavements - if you're not standing in exactly the right place, it looks all munted and lopsided.

And that's EXACTLY how my hair looks: munted and lopsided.

Yet another part of my body that could pass as abstract installation art.

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