tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349806692024-03-13T22:21:48.451+11:00Scott's Captured Lunacies That Just Won't DieScott is this guy. Sometimes he rants, sometimes he just says things that make us laugh until we cry. We decided to capture his strangeness and publish them for all of you to enjoy.
"i see evil finally has a web page. fancy that."Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-91656596259861551132023-03-09T10:54:00.003+11:002023-03-09T10:54:40.940+11:00Scott responds to an emergency<p>Scott: I am on train</p><p>Rebecca: Yay train! I am not on a train, I am on a wheely chair though... WHEEEE!</p><p>Scott: So speedy</p><p>Rebecca: *Crash* Oh noes, I am dying</p><p>Scott: Call the rescues, is helicopter mergency</p><p>Rebecca: Helotoptop! Calling Helotoptop! This is a mergency of dying</p><p>Scott: Oh no, here comes the helotoptop with big rescue spoon, gonna do a carry to hopital</p><p>Rebecca: Whee!</p><p>Scott: Doctors do big splurgery, all better now. Yay!</p><p>Rebecca: Do I have bambages on my brain?</p><p>Scott: You have shiny new turbo brain with reinforced bumpers for safety</p><p>Rebecca: Oooh, I can finally be so smrt... and run into things without doing a serious owie</p>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-74702813864617707702015-02-11T11:27:00.001+11:002015-02-11T11:27:15.573+11:00Scott is sick of annoying thingsScott: This dumb is annoying.<br /><br />Me: Look, they've spent ages crafting that dumb. They've poured in thousands of dollars in development, it's gone through multiple review committees, it's been approved by management. It is the best dumb they can get you.<br /><br />Scott: I don’t want the best dumbs, I want an absence of dumbs. Is like saying “here, have this bowel obstruction, it’s the finest most advanced bowel obstruction available, lovingly crafted by magical bowel dwarves and comes with a full suite of Android apps and wifi functions.” At the end of the day no one wants a bowel obstruction no matter how beautiful it isRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-87712830859739160372014-01-17T15:53:00.003+11:002014-01-17T15:53:56.717+11:00Scott on the heatwave<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The BBC Natural History unit presents an excerpt from its
next epic production, Life in the Heater:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the heat rises on the concrete plains of the Melbourne
savannah we see the inhabitants struggling to cope. Herds of the Common
Australian Hipster, who rarely range outside the inner city boundary, now flock
in large numbers to pop-up bars and artisanal cafes, vibrant oases of
micro-brewed beer and fair trade coffee. Generally a placid species, they now
find themselves gathering in large numbers around limited resources and
conflicts arise. The males face off, flashing their vibrant facial hair at each
other while making threat calls of emerging and obscure band names. While
physical conflict is rare, so much energy is expended in beard growth that the
loser will often collapse onto the nearest ironic beanbag for days at a
time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the outskirts of the plains, were resources are fewest,
mobs of Greater Bogans suffer in the conditions. The males suffer the most;
their usual occupation of gathering around a V8 engine with beer in paw and
grunting in appreciation is ill-suited for the heat. As the temperatures peak
they find themselves consuming more and more beer, rapidly consuming the
available supply. Once the beer is gone, the males stagger out to into the open
with much belching and cries of “BLAARGHAAARGHYAAHFUUCKINPOOFARRGH”, randomly
striking each other and, in some cases random objects. Pre-occupied with the
search for more beer, the become easy prey for hunting packs of Police, who
descend on the mobs with much flailing of nightsticks. Soon the sounds of the
Bogan mobs are drowned out by the howling “You have the right to an attorney”
calls of the Police packs.</div>
Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-14410385546331535512013-07-15T15:25:00.002+10:002013-07-15T15:25:56.309+10:00Scott weasles a poem<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">There
once was a weasel called Bruce</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">Who
lived at the top of a spruce.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">While
derping around</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">He
fell to the ground</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">And
was trampled by a large Swedish moose</span></div>
Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-62853801680241585122012-06-25T10:35:00.003+10:002012-06-25T10:35:48.707+10:00Scott channels Formula One<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(After Vettel's car stopped during the Valencia Grand Prix 2012) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Car: "I can haz nap time now?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Vettel: "No! Cannot haz! Must have
fasterz!"</span><br /><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Car: "Shh.
Sleeping."</span><br /><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Vettel: "Nooo! Do not
want!"</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-76215442777022012752012-05-31T14:03:00.000+10:002012-05-31T14:03:01.865+10:00Scott tries tech journalismWhile reviewing some headphones:<br />
<br />
Scott:<br />
"My ears initially cowered before the sight of these mighty godzilla-like headphones, but it was when the music started and each clamshell-earpiece attempted to push my brain out through the opposite ear that I finally knew the true meaning of terror. I am unable to recall the actually quality of the sound, however I can confirm that the performance of [company's]'s new headphone-monster is equivalent to having two mob enforcers beat your brain into submission with baseball bats."<br />
<br />
James:<br />
Scott, you need to get into tech journalism.<br /><br />"The Spleenhauser XYZ-5BILLION headphones are almost comically expensive. While I will concede that listening to music through them is akin to having each eardrum massaged between the ample breasts of a pair of Teutonic contraltos, for their price I was also hoping for some kind of magically-induced priapism, trickling down from earholes to groin like some kind of Reaganesque economic delusion." <br />
<br />
Scott:<br />
"Auralwombat's new Screaming Weasel XL platinum-plated ultra low impedance headphones produce sound so amazingly clear and vibrant that you will develop an enormous spontaneous erection, even if you lack a penis. We know this because all the staff here at Aurgasm Review that tried this set, male and female alike, found that their clothing immediately tore open at crotch level to reveal a rampantly engorged titanesque penis that would not be subdued until the headphones were eventually wrestled off the reluctant reviewer. Our verdict: a must buy, but not to be used in public spaces."Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-38542571414134316832012-05-10T12:11:00.002+10:002023-12-05T19:32:30.260+11:00Scott does not want a ride<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Scott:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I should probably mention the *HUGE* huntsman that was sitting on the fence watching me put the washing on the line last night. I am so not taking the washing off the line when we get home.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">James:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">You should have tossed a saddle onto it and broken it in. It could have become your trusty steed.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Scott:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don't know if I want a trusty steed the freaks me the fuck out. I'd be like a sheriff of the wild west that screams like a little girl every time he has to mount up</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">James:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Howdy, I'm Marshall Brennan, and this is my trusty steed, Nightmare Fuel."</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Scott:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Marshall, we're here, you can get off your horse."<br />"No. I'll be staying right here thanks."<br />"But Marshall, you gotta get down from there, you ain't gonna help anyone in the Johnson homestead if ya can't come inside."<br />"Listen, right now I know exactly where my ride is. The minute I get off it could end up anywhere. I ain't movin'."</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">James:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"Let's head 'em off at the pass! Marshall, saddle up!"<br />"Uh... can't we walk?"<br />"What? No, we'll never catch 'em on foot."<br />"Well, why don't I stay here while you do the heading off and the pass and we-hey...?"<br />"We need your gun, Marshall! We'll be outnumbered! You gotta come!"<br />"OH GOD DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS!!!"</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Scott:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"You know what the worst bit is?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">"Uh...what's that, Marshall?"</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">"I mean, you'd think the worst bit was that its a giant hairy
eight legged fanged poison dripping multiple eyed monstrosity, but that ain't the
worst bit."</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">"Uh...no? You ok Marshall,
you're lookin' like you got some kind o' fever."</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">"No, I'll tell you what the worst bit is. The worst bit is when
it decides it wants to climb or down some cliff hundreds of feet high. I mean,
all I got is a saddle and a bridle. When it does that I...I...I gotta wrap my
arms around it and hold on for dear life. I...I have to touch it. I have to
press myself against it. That's the worst bit."</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">James:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">"You okay Marshall?"<br />"Uh... no, not really?"<br />"Yer lookin' a bit green around the gills there."<br />"Yeah... my, uh... _horse_... got hungry while I was boundary riding..."<br />"Oh."<br />"Yeah, oh. The sound of a whole sheep getting its guts liquefied and sucked out is not something I'm going to forget in a hurry."</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-74062246167121573892011-12-09T09:43:00.001+11:002011-12-09T09:44:54.092+11:00Scott mourns the death of his special spreadsheetScott:<br />I am in love with a tentacled starbeast called G'runtleth'up that compels me to worship it and offer sacrifices to it of my own free will and has nothing to do with the ethereal ichor tentacle it has plunged into my brain. All will love G'runtleth'up and die!<br /><br />Michelle:<br />you're still all cut up about the tragic death of your spreadsheet, aren't you?<br /><br />Scott:<br />Its clone just doesn't feel the same. Oh sure, it looks the same and does the same things and works just as well....but it doesn't feel the same. Its a Midwich cuckoo spreadsheet.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-396889688680350702011-08-29T15:56:00.001+10:002011-08-29T15:57:29.572+10:00Scott explains MoronAfter discussing James's ability to speak Moron...
<br />
<br />James: "Hi, yes, its about the email you just sent out, can you explain it a bit more clearly please?"
<br />IT Support: "Whut?"
<br />James: "*sighs* Email sending you me has no smart. Means whut whut?"
<br />IT Support: "Ugh. Email says you no have magic thinking box gogo. Me fix!"
<br />James: "Why magic thinking box has no gogo?"
<br />IT Support: "Baaaad juju. Sacrifice for magic thinking box sky god! Must have squiggle!"
<br />James: "Whut whut squiggle?"
<br />IT Support: "Squiggle! On paper! Say 'you for have magic thinking box working now, is ok!'"
<br />James: "Oh, so if I sign the form then I can get access to the software?"
<br />IT Support: "Whut?"
<br />
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-46560143558303259962011-08-18T11:56:00.000+10:002011-08-18T11:57:39.057+10:00Scott wants his colleagues to go away<span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Ok, enough of this. If you're an investigator and you can't investigate our own systems to get the information you need then its probably time you looked for a job more suited to your skills. Like maybe as a street light.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Investigator: "I can't find any records for this business!"</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Me: "Really? I searched [records management system] and there's over a hundred records in there."</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Investigaor: "I can't find any of them! You're lying!"</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Me: *sends screendump* "Look. 134 records found just using a simple name search. Could be more if you do some more complex searches."</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Investigator: "Oh. Well. I can't find the person linked to the business in [client management system]! It doesn't exist!"</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Me: *sighs* "Run an address search on the business. Have a look at the names that turn up linked to that address."</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Investigator: "I don't really know how to do address searches."</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Me: "Oh look, they're replacing a street light outside. Why don't you go down and pretend to be one?"</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">Investigator: "Yaaay! I'm a street light! Woowoowoo!"</span>
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-13481083381490634272011-08-12T09:44:00.001+10:002011-08-12T09:44:45.917+10:00Scott's work email gets to be too muchTempted to put the following automated reply on my work email to cope with the huge torrent of incoming emails. Perhaps it will reduce the flood:
<br />"Your email has been waylaid by pirate marmosets who are demanding a ransom before they release it. I consider their price too steep. Negotiations are expected to be long. Do not expect a quick reply to your email. Do not try calling me to obtain progress regarding the pirate marmoset negotiations as they have seized that as well and have figured out how to throw faeces down the phone line. Do you want phone faeces? I didn't think so. Do not attempt come to my desk either, for they watch it constantly with their beady little marmoset eyes and will react with extreme violence. Do not anger the marmosets. We live in dangerous times. Fear the wrath of the pirate marmoset."Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-39633851223002442322011-07-22T16:25:00.000+10:002011-07-22T16:26:24.406+10:00Scott writes a job ad<span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:85%;">"The weasel uprising has begun; do you have the elite cheese skills to compete and win in a world overrun by weasels? We are looking for an experienced mustelid wrangler, with at least 5 years experience as a pasta burgler and with knowledge of IT systems such as Spork+, WangMountain, and Unix BeardOS. We are offering an enticing remuneration package with target-based bonuses of peculiar proportions. If you fit the bill (note: weasels do not have bills) forward your CV to our automated response bot for consideration."</span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-76626058445890051172011-07-22T12:06:00.002+10:002011-07-22T12:12:12.797+10:00Scott is having a bad dayRebecca: I'm certainly not going to spend my time at work until just before Nigel's birthday dinner... so thought it'd be nice to go to a pub or cafe somewhere... and have a drink or two before dinner. Elephant and Wheelbarrow at 5pm good for people?<br /><br />Scott: I may be there as early as 3:30 depending how the rest of this day goes. You can drag me to dinner if I've drunk myself under the table by then.<br /><br />Rebecca: So, having a fun day then Scott darling?<br /><br />Scott: It started as a barrel of monkeys. Then the monkeys died. Then the barrel started to smell. Then the dead monkey residue leaked from the barrel into the water supply for the nearby orphanage and all the orphans died rather horribly.DexXhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306977150813114297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-39446184767309754862011-05-24T14:38:00.002+10:002011-05-24T18:23:09.298+10:00Scott does not has<span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Excitable employee: "Look! Look! We has found a frauds! Yay! We can has investigate!"</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Me: "Hmmmm....no, you cannot has."</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Excitable employee: "Cannot has?? But, but....is frauds!"</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Me: "Cannot has. Is lame frauds. Is unimportant frauds. Has better things to do."</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Excitable employee: *pouty face*</span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-7086324008913742092011-02-10T15:27:00.000+11:002011-02-10T15:30:06.106+11:00Scott writes a letterDear Ms Arse-Marmot,<br /><br />Thank you for your ignorant screed of 08/02/2011. Had you chosen a boyfriend without a criminal history longer than Shane Warne's love letters to himself and the intelligence of a festering arse boil, you wouldn't be facing the prospect of the love of your wasted life having his arse kicked all the way back to Ireland, but you did so sucks be to you. Seriously, did he honestly think he could get away with it? Have you drunken goat fondlers not heard of facial recognition software? Pah. Get off my damn rug and take your noxious oozings with you.<br /><br />Love and cheeriness<br />Mr F&$k You With Goats<br />Dept of MonkeysRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-41435019001380599012010-12-20T11:36:00.001+11:002010-12-20T11:42:10.118+11:00Scott and text fieldsAfter a discussion about text fields in Access:<br /><br />Scott:<br />A text field is where letters are grown. When they eventualy ripen they're harvested by the farmers, stored in letter silos and eventually shipped to publishing houses for distribution.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-26037799164023023532010-10-04T11:11:00.002+11:002010-10-04T11:15:50.018+11:00Scott finds out what else James doesn't want to doJames: (after being away from his usual day job for 4 weeks)<br />*pout*<br /><br />*pout pout pout*<br /><br />Don't wanna.<br /><br />Scott:<br />Don't wanna what? Bungee from the top of the Eiffel tower using Burt reynold's moustache as a bungee cord? Dance naked in front of the offices of the Young Liberals to Warrant's "Cherry Pie"? Sail a boat made from love, toilet rolls and koalas to Whitsunday Island where you'll establish an artist's retreat that will one day give birth to the "Rampant Bollocks" movement? Slide down the Matterhorn using a singing Gordon Brown as a toboggan? Regurgitate a fully grown walrus in your manager's office which will then proceed to read the weather reports for Marrakesh for the last 500 years? Entertain the Pope for a day using nothing but a rubber band, a banana and a very flexible assistant? Bracchiate through the houses of parliament while being chased by a small hunting party in pith helmets that want to arrest you for aggravated assault with a battery powered chicken? Train orcas to tapdance? Insert live tapioca puddings into the ears of a news reporter while they're live on air? Approach strangers on the street<br />and ask them to donate their nose hair for scientific experimentation?<br /><br />James:<br />Well, those, and coming back to work.<br /><br />Scott:<br />Oh. Personally I actually want to do all those things I listed. I should take some leave.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-83155384570223601652010-07-21T09:29:00.001+10:002010-07-21T09:30:31.968+10:00Scott complains about cold toesRebecca:<br />Scott and James cry when I put my feet on them in winter<br /><br />Scott:<br />They be ice. Icy toes of frozen death<br /><br />James:<br />ICY DEATH TOES!!! ATTACKING MY BITS WITHOUT MERCY!!!<br /><br />Scott:<br />"You're listening to the drive time commute show and that was Icey Death Toes with their new single 'Numb Bits Drop Off'."<br /><br />James:<br />Coming up next, it's the Frozen Scrotes with their brand new hit "Aaargh Get Away From Me".Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-8806484473000495072010-06-02T15:31:00.003+10:002010-06-02T15:35:57.943+10:00Scott writes a storyScott:<br />Gah. There's this new fantasy novel out called Tome of the Undergates by Sam Sykes, and I keep seeing it in bookshops and mentioned in blogs and every time I see it I misread it as "Tome of the Undergraduates".<br /><br />I think my title would make for a much more interesting book<br /><br />James:<br />Excerpt...<br /><br />Skarek felt his rage blossom into something powerful and dangerous, a thrumming current, like an unseen rush of water felt through a stone wall. "Oh yes," he muttered, "my rage makes me powerful." A glow filled the edges of his vision, a dull orange pulse. He felt as if a forest fire were raging at his back. He turned to his nemesis, that fool Belosuk, and spoke with a voice like thunder, like hammers on anvils, like the groan of the earth itself.<br /><br />"Do the f--king dishes NOW, Bel!" Skarek reached forth, effortless, extending only a single finger, and Belosuk's bong vanished into vapour.<br /><br />"Jesus, Ska!" Belosuk shouted. "I'd just packed the cone!"<br /><br />Scott:<br />As Derek approached the lair of the beast he could feel the fear begin to rise in him. Wozza had returned from here half the man he had been and what happened to Boz was the subject of much whispered conjection in the mead halls of the campus. "They say only his uggboots were found!" "I heard someone found his head in the Great Refectory, still wearing his fedora!" "The Librarians took him! They took him and buried his corpse in a place no one ever goes: the Welsh Philosophy stacks!"<br /><br />Nervously fingering the talisman the witchwoman had given him, he took a nervous step down the darkening hall. With each step his heart beat faster; with each step the urge to flee screaming out into the night became stronger. His feet became heavier as he walked, the air thickened with scents emanting from the dread portal of the lair: marijuana, tweed and, underneath it all, blood. The stench filled his head 'til he thought it would burst, yet at the very moment when he thought he could take no more he found himself standing before the portal itself. The portal of death and madness.<br /><br />Swallowing compulsively, he knocked once a pushed it open revealing hell.<br /><br />Textbooks piled on textbooks disappeared in great towers beyond his ability to see them. The dirt compacted floor was riven with great cracks from which roaring flames burst, while hanging from the walls on hooks where the still writhing forms of undergraduates that had not submitted their papers on time. Dominating it all was great desk, stained with blood and scored with the marks of a thousand knives, while upon on it teetering in great heaps were back issues of the Green Left Weekly. And there, behind the desk, was the object of his quest.<br /><br />It sat wreathed in smoke and darkness, an indistinct form possibly that of a man and possibly of something much, much worse. It watched him, waiting.<br /><br />"Um" squeaked Derek. "Um....I would like to ask, uh, to ask....for an extension."<br /><br />For moment there was no response. For a moment there was a flicker of hope, then with guttural growl the beast of shadow leapt at him. Before he could react, before he even had time to piss himself in fear, he found himself pinned to the ground, a great taloned hand clasped around his neck, the beast's indistinct face pressed close to his. The growling grew worse.<br /><br />Clutching his talisman even tighter with his free hand he brought it between the beast and himself. "Please" he gasped, "I have a note from my doctor..."<br /><br />The growling stopped. There was a pause in which Derek was sure his beating heart was the only sound in the world. Then a slit split the beast's formless head where its mouth would be and revealed rows of shiny, needle sharp teeth in the cruel parody of a smile.<br /><br />"Well then" said the beast in a voice that made his bowels somersault "let's see what we can do for you, Mr Derek...."Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-43076674713958170312010-05-16T13:12:00.000+10:002010-05-16T13:13:42.186+10:00Scott has a menagerieAfter bitching about inconsiderate colleagues<br /><br />Scott:<br />I hope you yelled at them<br /><br />Rebecca:<br />and then stabbed them to death<br /><br />James:<br />...and fed their remains to that judge on Masterchef.<br /><br />Scott:<br />...and in turn fed that judge to a herd of ravenous barracudamice.<br /><br />James:<br />The bumblebeaver is the world's busiest animal, it is true, but the little-known and yet widely-feared barracudamouse takes the record for being the world's hungriest.<br /><br />[And then from a discussion about food]<br /><br />Rebecca:<br />over peppering is bad<br /><br />James:<br />Too much pepper might make the barracudamice sneeze, and then there'd be chunks flying everywhere at near-sonic speeds.<br /><br />[and then back to the main silliness]<br /><br />Scott:<br />The world's strangest animal, however, is without a doubt the creampiethon. This rarely seen ambush predator drapes itself in coils around its prey and smothers it in cream.<br /><br />James:<br />We could do millions of these...<br /><br />The piguana, and its miniature breed, the guinea piguana...<br /><br />Rhinocerodents, which infest your walls and leave holes in the skirting boards the size of Kombi vans...<br /><br />The spocktopus, a deeply logical creature with green blood, also the only animal other than humans able to raise one eyebrow...<br /><br />The squidiot - a pale soft-bodied human which loves to get into political arguments it can never win; it escapes without having to<br />admit defeat by ejecting a cloud of ink and running away...<br /><br />Scott:<br />The ballpointpenguin, which write stern letters to the editor when threatened by carnivores...<br /><br />Fryingpanthers, reknowned for their culinary skills...<br /><br />Motorcyclops, the leather clad hoon of Greek legend...<br /><br />The paraleagle, the only raptor with understanding of criminal law, often seen defending other raptors in mammal-murder cases...Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-55323038429538507102010-05-04T22:10:00.001+10:002010-05-04T22:10:35.747+10:00Scott needs weirdRebecca:<br />essential? You need your weird?<br /><br />Scott:<br />You know the old adage: a weirdo a day keeps the baleful psychotic dwarf from lurking under the desk and chewing my PC cables.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-44068424766633101402010-04-29T22:11:00.003+10:002010-04-29T22:18:38.871+10:00Scott likes computer productsRebecca:<br />I have a new email address<br /><br />And using Lotus Notes again is the suck.<br /><br />Scott:<br />As an official <span class="il">IBM</span> employee you're not allowed to say that. Remember, Lotus Notes is a fully featured data recording and manipulating tool that can be tailored to meet the specific requirements of each work place, provided that the specific requirements were developed by a goat sniffing lunatic with a Barry Manilow obssession.<br /><br />"Have you tried using our Lotus Notes software?"<br />"Yes, and it blows."<br />"Ah, that would have been the old version! I think you'll find our latest release meets all your needs and then some!"<br />"Yes, but only if I'm an insane one armed gerbil herder that only travels by pogostick and writes long diatribes to national newspapers about aliens, lizard people, mind control rays and how the US government will be replaced by a race of sentient spoons that will enforce mandatory accordion ownership."<br />"Ok, yes, fair point, but if you are that one armed gerbil herder think how wonderfully Lotus Notes will organise your diatribes!"<br />"I am going to stab you now."<br /><br />Nadia:<br />And do you get a computer to go with it?<br /><br />Scott:<br />Silly, of course not! This is <span class="il">IBM</span>, only customers get computers. Staff have to make do with a monkey, a chisel and a stone tablet. Staff used to chisel their own emails but that was seen to be an OH&S issue, so now every <span class="il">IBM</span> staffer gets their own macaque to chisel emails dictated to them. Its quite efficient and only approx 25% of emails end up being about poo flinging.<br /><br />James:<br />I initially read that as "staff used to chisel their own entrails".<br /><br />I was momentarily disturbed.<br /><br />Scott:<br />Mmmm auto-extispicy.<br /><br />Nadia:<br />Mmm spicy entrails. Pulverized entrail empanadas anyone?<br /><br />Scott:<br />There's absolutely no way in hell I'll be able to explain to my staff why I'm giggling at my desk right now. They'll think I've gone insane.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-3754518762266451312010-04-29T22:01:00.002+10:002010-04-29T22:23:51.702+10:00Scott has sinus goblinsScott:<br />Its like there's <span class="il">goblins</span> in my head making noises<br /><br />James:<br />Fetch me a kebab skewer and I'll get rid of the <span class="il">goblins</span> for you.<br /><br />Scott:<br />I fear for my brain. Specifically I fear my brain being stabbed due to your overly enthusiastic sinus goblin skewering.<br /><br />Michelle:<br />you two are being very disturbing again!<br /><br />Scott:<br />But you haven't heard the song about it yet<br /><br />Michelle:<br />sing it for me at lunch...<br /><br />James:<br />I think it goes:<br /><br />See the little goblin<br />See his little feet<br />And his little toes-y-woes<br />Isn't the goblin sw- AAARGH!!! GET THAT SKEWER OUT OF MY NOSE!!!<br /><br />Scott:<br />Oh I am a sinus goblin and a I sail the sinus seas!<br />With my trusty sinus spoon I fill your sinuses with peas!<br /><br />James:<br />Sounds a bit like a sinus pirate...<br /><br />Scott:<br />You've not seen the jolly roger sticking out of my left nostril?Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-55865145810317415902010-01-15T15:11:00.007+11:002010-01-15T16:02:58.437+11:00Scott is hungry<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Scott:<br />Verily</span>, thy cries of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nom</span> flounce 'round mine ears and lo! multitudinous voices of avarice awaken. Arise, arise ye lords of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nom</span> and descend upon thine tasty morsels, gathered from lands divine. Possessed, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nom</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nom</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">nom</span> again, til belly's cravings ended be.<br /><br />Rebecca:<br />Scott you is blogged<br /><br />Scott:<br />Slain! Oh for your mighty blog has pierced mine form of spazz. Hark, can thy ears not hear the coldness? It comes swiftly, on tainted wings of sporks. I die! *dies*<br /><br />James:<br />Me thinks thy protestations and feign'd expiration of mortality art over-acted. Verily, thy performance in its entirety doth reek of ham.<br /><br />Nadia:<br />Alas! Poor Scott. We knew him quite well,<br /><div>Though what he'd say next, you never could tell.<br />The world may be quieter now he's sloughed off this shell.<br />But we'll be laughing again when we see him in hell.<br /><br />Scott:<br />Thy porcine insults doth smack of jealousy! Begone, foul fiend, I spork at you with all my fury! *repeated sporking*<br /><br />James:<br />Knave! Varlet! Blackguard! Stale omelette 'pon which a goat hath shat! I have at thee with runcible spoon in hand, thou reader of Dan Brown!<br /><br />Scott:<br />You dare?! Thou would dares't hurl Dan Brown upon my face?? I curse thee that thou may'st spend until the end of a days a character born from the pen of Stephenie Meyer!<br /><br />James:<br />Thou doth wound me, sir! Verily, I hath but no resemblance to the grim yet sparkling literary regurgitations of that crazed latter day loon, whilst thou wilt surely be played by Tom Hanks in the movie version.<br /><br />Scott:<br />Aye, for that's as may be, but beware Lord Sparkles for hath the witches on the hill not foretold in rhyme so crap that thine ownself would be played by Hayden Christiansen in a beard so false.<br /></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34980669.post-66786212982718910832009-10-02T22:06:00.000+10:002009-10-02T22:08:36.436+10:00Scott and his penisScott:<br />A purring penis would be disturbing.<br /><br />Rebecca:<br />Yes, like... "Ah, what's that? Oh, its Scott's contented penis"<br /><br />Scott:<br />And that's not a phrase I want to hear very often. Though "Scott's contented penis" would be a good name for a band.<br /><br />Rebecca:<br />Well maybe "contented penis" remove the "Scott"<br /><br />Scott:<br />No, it has to be "Scott's contented penis". If you can have "Butthole Surfers" you can have "Scott's contented penis"Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10649422909281161545noreply@blogger.com0