New Year's Fails

For years, me and my brother have spent the last seconds of the year doing something weird, and not stop until just after the countdown ends. We then lift our arms up and scream:

It's great IN THEORY. It never works out how I want it to, but for David it never fails.




2007: Drink water upside down


I practiced for hours until midnight. I worked on my balancing, not spilling my glass of water, not smacking my back into the wall when I flipped over, things like that. I missed most of EVERY Christmas special show that was showing that night:

David was watching TV, just drinking Solo and Coke while laughing at my idiotic attempts to slam into the wall whilst avoiding the hanging photos, and grabbing a glass of water without spilling it - ALL UPSIDE DOWN:

I had no idea what he was going to do.


Then, it began. I was ready to flip, I had been practicing so long I could taste victory and bragging rights already. As soon as the counter read "5" I launched into the wall, resting my head on a pillow. By "3" I was reaching out for the glass, and by "2" I was drinking. I had to keep going for several seconds... I could do it, I COULD DO IT!

Then, David revealed how he was going to spend the crossover. As soon as the annoucer said "1", he unleashed the loudest, longest burp I had ever heard.

Me, swallowing water at the time, exploded into laughter and choked on all the water I was drinking at the time. Some got on the pillow, some on the floor, but most went all over my face and lungs.

So, in 2008, David had been burping since the year before, and Sean had been laughing/choking/dying.

2008: Be airborne


Seemed simple enough. We leap from the ledge near our pool just after the announcer says "1" and we'll be in the air during the crossover.

However, we didn't have a TV near the pool. So we had our dad carry a small one out, but the nearest it could be was still over 10m away. We had to turn the volume up REALLY high to hear anything. It was lucky it was New Year's eve and all, because everyone was partying and nobody cared how loud we played our midget TV. If anything, it paled in comparison.

So there we were, from about 3 minutes before the countdown, standing sopping wet above our pool (of course we'd been swimming earlier). We looked like idiots, but lucky nobody could see into our garden save for creepy well-hidden pedophiles.

And then, midnight approached. We cranked the volume up and listened intently. We prepared to jump, listening to the TV. We stood for what seemed like eternity, waiting for that countdown to begin...

And then, amid the loudness of the New Year's special, we heard, from across the road, behind our house and pretty much in every direction around us, the screams and yells of our neighbours celebrating the New Year.

We glared at our father. He checked the channel. We were tuned into Channel X (won't say on the internet), the channel famous for being located in central Australia. ONE. HOUR. BEHIND.


We had missed the countdown. We had wasted our New Year's moment. From 2008 to 2009, me and my brother stood like idiots. We had waited. We, ladies and gentlemen, had FAILED through the crossover. Me and my brother were the first failures of 2009, and NONE OF YOU FORGET IT!

2009: Spinning around a baseball bat.


You know how some idiots press their forehead on the end of a baseball bat and spin around until they're so dizzy they actually become lighter due to what I deem "The Helicopter Effect"?

Yeah, I was going to do that. My dad said:

So I gave him my best poker face for several seconds...

... and came back with an inflatable baseball bat.

I had won! For the first time in several years I had won the year! My brother had by then entered his 'derro' phase and didn't do silly things like that anymore, so he was sitting on the couch with his laptop, being derro.

So, I spun around during the last 4 seconds of the countdown and through the next 2 seconds of 2010.

I felt so triumphant that I dropped the bat and stood in my most dramatic I-WIN-YOU-SUCK pose...

... and promptly fell into the Christmas tree, which we had not yet packed away from 5 days ago. 

This maded my brother to laugh so hard he dropped his laptop...

... and my father to start yelling at me for being so irresponsible and childish.

So, our last 3 years of attempting to be awesome through the crossovers have been pretty crap. Just you wait until this year, though. I'm hanging out with all my friends this year, so it's gonna be epic. Maybe an epic fail. I'll let you all know how it goes when the time comes.

Proof That My Brother David Is Retarded I

This is the first of what I'm sure is going to be MANY posts detailing ways that my brother David is irresponsible and stupid. In a funny way, of course. Some just in a WTF U RETARD way.

My first point is that he didn't like Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. This alone is enough to get him committed, but let me continue. I was here, on my computer, when I hear from the bathroom, "Sean! Come look!" I walk over, seeing my brother standing at the sink. He turns around, and...

My brother's nose had started bleeding, and instead of stemming it with a tissue, hankherchief or a small rodent, he was letting it ALL flow into the sink.

After my few seconds of shock, disgust and concern for my brother's mental wellbeing, I entered into, worthy of my own mother when I was five and tried jumping off the roof onto the trampoline in hopes of landing in the barely-filled sandpit (which I was, at the time, pretending to be a pool), a flying panic, repeating the same phrase over and over:

... to which he responded, in his painfully stereotypical teenager-ness, wiping the blood off his face and flicking it into the sink while more poured out of his nose like the back end of a terminally ill cow:

A bit more exhasperation and panic later, I subsided and let him do whatever the hell he was doing. I did check back after few minutes to see him still at it.

What to do with a blood nose: stem the flow with an absorbent material and KEEP IT IN YOUR NOSE to prevent it from leaking everywhere until the blood clots on it's own and you are healed. You do NOT let the blood gush out of your face for several minutes making facial patterns with the excess until it stops itself, because that will be retarded.

And that, dear readers, is proof that my brother David is retarded.

EDIT: Just a quick update. Today, the day after this incident, my mother found that when David was flicking his blood into the sink, he also managed to flick it over the wall in several places. Well done, David.

How My Bad Handwriting May Have Branded Me For Life

So I've seen my school's yearbook for 2010 (the year I've graduated in), and all graduating students get a profile shot that takes up maybe a quarter of a page, complete with their photo and a list of answers they gave to questions earlier in the year. One question was "What do you want to do in 10 years time?". Of course, being the little goldmine of hilarity that I am (shut up, I am!), I came up with a fantastic answer:

"I want to meet Candlejack and tell him t"

It's flawless. It's amazing. It's great. I will be forever remembered as the one who referenced a hilarious meme in their yearbook, to be preserved forevermore and be craved by people the world over when I become famous.

So I look at my page and gaze upon the quote that would seal my future as a hilarious joker:

"What do you want to do in 10 years over time? - I want to meet CANDLESACK and tell him t"

My heart implodes. My brain goes numb. This is not good. This is terrible. Candlesack. CANDLESACK. I dash to my whiteboard and write the letter 'j'. Oh no. When I'm rushed, as I'm sure I was when I answered the question all those months ago, this is what my 'j's look like:

To a typist, or a computer scanner, this 'j' would most definitely look like an 's'.

No. No. NO NO NO NO NO! This cannot be happening. But it is. This is worse than the time I broke my arm in primary school and blamed the school bully. This is worse than the time we ran out of Tim Tams just before the first time I was to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. This is worse than CANCER.

My mind goes over the possibilities. At my 21st, they will show this. "Hey, Sean, do you still want to meet CandleSACK?". When I'm already famous at aged 27, they'll do a report on me. "So, Sean, world-famous ________, ______ of such _______ as _______ and _______, now that you're 27, DID you end up meeting CandleSACK!?" Oh, how it tormented me. For the rest of my life I would be cowering, hiding, drowning in the sea of 'XD' faces that will suffocate me with their laughter.

So my ingenious mind thought of a plan. A plan that may work. It will take time, but it could happen. Please draw your attention to the drawing below:

This, my friends, is Candlesack, Candlejack's cousin. His limbs are like bony tree branches and he carries a single candle. He has terribly evil eyes on his head, a seemingly filled sack tied around his body with a stitched mouth. When you say his name, he arrives as a frightening spectre and steals your voice, which he keeps in the sack he carries on a rope with all the other voices of those who say his name.

And now I wait. Wait for Candlesack to spread. Copy and paste him over the internet, draw him yourselves, joke around with friends. Maybe, just MAYBE, over the years, he will become well-known enough to justify my dreadful mistake, and my future will be saved.

UPDATE: Yeah, just re-read the shame again, and it' doesn't even say "Candlesack and tell him t", it just says "candlesack". Yeah, no extra part on the end, no capitalization. Just "I want to meet candlesack".
WRITERS. ARE. FUCKING. RETARDED.

P.S: For those who don't know, I have another blog: Ones Who Does Not Have Triforce Can't Go In. I'm blogging about my attempt to complete the first NES Zelda game, and it's rapidly filling with swearing, raging and the occasional blog cliche. It'll also contain a bit of info on my ACTUAL life, not just funny stories (although funny stories are pretty fantastic).

Call of Cthulu

So yesterday a bunch of us got together to play a horror RPG. An RPG similar to Dungeons and Dragons. We played it because:

a) we were bored,
b) it was an excuse for us to get together, and
c) it was based on H.P. Lovecraft's works.

We played it, and within the first five minutes we realized we were never going to take this seriously as a horror game. One of the first things we did was visit the Sanitarium and question a victim of a paranormal entity. All game characters were voiced by our Keeper (like a DM), who even put on voices and acted as he should. It was very enjoyable watching a 16-year-old boy play an insane 50-year-old woman. As if that wasn't enough to break our seriousness, when "she" started getting worked up, I physically left my chair and did this:

While this earnt me a round of applause from everyone, dear Keeper included, my character was promptly "escorted from the facilities and thrown in jail". Another player (henceforth called Peter) left as well to help me escape. We both rolled dice against our "Sneak" skills and both managed to escape jail. I also rolled against my "Luck" and found that no records of my brief incarceration had been made, so I got off scott-free.

It was at this point that we realized something important. We could literally do almost anything in this game. As long as we found a way to work it around our statistics and dice rolls, we could do whatever the fuck we wanted! Another player (I'll call him Rick) had scored his "Appearance" stat at 16/18, and therefore, according to our made-up stat "Sex Appeal", was the sexiest player in the game. With his newfound knowledge of "anything can be done", Rick set forth in our adventure seducing everything female we met:

(when we entered the possessed house, there were loud sounds coming from the top floor. Rick very nearly attempted to seduce the top floor to make it bend to his whim, but it was just too inanimate)

Later, while at the Sanitarium again, we tried talking to the husband of the insane woman (that Rick seduced earlier). All was going well, he was giving some startling information:

Then, Peter asked a question:

This, according to our Keeper, is what how the husband reacted:

"The husband stares at you, realizing what was just asked of him, then EXPLODES in a fit of anger, screaming and fondling his penis." This was another tipping point in our lack of seriousness.

Later, in the possessed house, we came to a completely empty room. Peter and Rick, excited about the "Sneak" skill that Peter had used earlier, insisted on "Sneaking" into the room. They curled into balls on the floor outside the room...

Then rolled to test their skill and failed.

They apparently both try to roll, trip on nothing, and faceplant into the floor.

When they finally get into the room (by abandoning "Sneak"), a series of events triggered it to ooze blood from every wall and the ceiling over Rick and Peter (who had hidden in the corner). Rick had another epiphany/idea/breakdown:

He ran out of the house and gave a big, bloody hug to an old man who had sold us cigars earlier in the game.

This made the old man insane (according to our Keeper), who then ran away, dropping ALL his cigars.

As this old man was the ONLY person in the whole world who made that type of cigars, their price skyrocketed. Rick, the only other person in the area, obtained ALL of them and left the rest of our group to pursue a career as a cigar salesman. Once per day, he rolled to find the price and the quantity of cigars sold that day, and wanted nothing to do with anything the rest of us were doing.

In one of the last rooms, a knife attacks Peter out of nowhere. I gallantly attack it with my Shephard's stick, impaling it into the wall. I then rip it out of said wall and, with the help of Eliza, the team's Art Teacher/Occultist, remove it's curse.

I gain a knife.

The epic finale of our adventure will now be shown to you as a comic-style series of pictures.
MOTIVATION: We're in the final room, and the boss, a reanimated corpse, is moving towards us. Mickey, the only player holding a shotgun at that time, is facing it. GO!

The corpse exploded, and we win the game. As it dies, a blue glowing necklace falls to the ground.

It's blue and glowing, so naturally, I...

However, Peter's girlfriend also wants. So Peter, in an attempt to play jump-rope with the proverbial Grey Area, knocks me out, picks up the necklace and gives it to his girlfriend, who gains 1 Power stat.

And that's how I swore to stab Peter in the face with the knife I found earlier.