A Day in the life of Natalie Portman! (not what you think)

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I think im in love!

Kiss Shreds - P.I.S.S

The video that started all the "Shreds" Videos that were to follow.

This is truly awesome. Gee people have a lot of time to put things together for youtube!!

Enjoy....

 

Jazzy Jeff

 

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What a game.

Gentlemen, this game was always going to be tough.

Down two men, and then the unexpected happened: a shooting in Windsor.
Police have cordoned off all areas to Jeff's building.

Phones frantically ringing, Jeff can't access his apartment, can't get clothes, equipment or runners.
He's rattled, running late and stuck in traffic.

All this is adding to an already heightened sense of anxiety and pressure.
Will he make it in time???

It's match time. No Jeff.

Not sure whether Dan is coming, we are 4 men standing on the field, staring down a team of 8 healthy young men.

Strategies into place, we decide we need to make some decisions.
We need someone in goal as we await word on whether Jeff has been detained.

With two seconds to spare until kick off, out of the corner of our eyes, we see Dan running onto the field.

We make a decision - throw Dan to the wolves. He goes into goals... we  give him our blessing and hope he makes it through.
Positions are taken. Bernie & Pete go up front. Rob & Dave at the back.

This is gonna be tough. No Jeff. Taz out. Marty injured.
We take a final look at each other, and stand strong.
You can feel the heart.

The whistle blows.

It was relentless attacking from the younger side.
Quick ball skills, and strong shooting.
But our team was not going to be taken down.
We held strong as a team, cutting them down in defence and running hard.

Dan rising heroically to the occasion, putting doubt into the opposition's eyes and fearlessly doing the best he could in a tough situation.

We're down 2-nil, but we're still not losing heart.
Then all of a sudden, like a hand from the gods, the team seemed to be given a herculean boost of immortality and strength.

Pete and Bernie up front seem to be rattling the defence of the opposition.

Pete shows consistent courage and energy, running hard and running into space.
Bernie is blinding the opposition with strength and skill, not to mention the blinding light from his new white runners.
Like a trojan, Bernie is stoic, untouchable, and stylish, with the signature twists and turns which he has become famous for.
Bernie scores two goals and before we know it, we are 2 all.

The determination is now rising higher, the opposition fighting hard to gain the lead again.

They score again. We are trailing and fighting hard to catch up.

The ball is going at a furious pace, up and down the field.

Our passing is solid, we are making space and creating plays.
Bernie and Pete making some beautiful passes, leaving the opposition in their wake, and seeing Pete score a brilliant goal off a genius pass from Bernie.

The scores keep building, one for one.

It's almost halftime.

Then, out of the corner of our eyes, like a golden light or a shooting star - we see Jeff rush through the doorway.
In jeans and t-shirt, he's not in the sanctioned uniform - we interrupt play to ask the ref if our goalie can come on.

The ref is stern and unmoveable, saying "no man can play in jeans".

Bernie yells: "IN MY BAG!"
Quick - a pair of shorts awaits, along with a t-shirt, old sneakers, gloves and kneepads.
Jeff changes like superman, just in time to join the huddle at half time.

Halftime score 4-5, the opposition in front.

It feels like a battle, holding off the enemy until reinforcements arrived.
With even more determination and renewed heart, we run into the second half, stronger than ever.

The second half starts like a tennis match, balls flying by at a bionic speed.
The famous and untouchable Jeff throw to Bernie is even more accurate than ever, putting fear into the opposition.

Now with a sub, we use it wisely - everybody holding their position strong.
Dan playing exceptionally well, and stopping the unstoppable.
Bernie untouchable, passing the ball off to all running players.
Dave, formidable, holding the back strong, never giving up, and running like the wind.
Dave to the front line as well, scoring a brilliant goal from the half way mark.
Myself at the back, holding position, cutting down the attack, standing ground.
Looking up, as if in some Matrix type special effect in slow motion, seeing the team excel and rise as a team - we were going to fight till the end.

Scores still going one for one, 6 all.

Five minutes to go: we're ahead 7-6.

The younger team using their subs, replenishing themselves, they score - it's 7 all.

We take one final look at each other: we either die here altogether, or we rise and fight to live another day.
Like the swords gleaming on a battlefield strewn with bodies, we give one final thrust of courage.

We score. It's 8-7.

With 30 seconds to go, the opposition wield their swords in anger. They are shocked, angry, and hungry for the win.
The Blue Shadows fight on, with heart, determination, and love for each other and the game.

The whistle blows.
The other team drop to the ground, tears rolling down their faces.
We give a triumphant cry.

This day was ours.

So summer is here and you're doing okay with the quality you're pulling in... but realise there is always room for improvement. How do you increase your pulling power? How do you go from hooking Miss-Not-That-Hot-But-Eager-So-Therefore-Convenient, to bagging the hottest of the hot??

Picture this: you are a hot chick! Every time you go out, you get approached by guys with various lame pick up lines "you are so amazing" or "you look beautiful" or "can I buy you a drink??" After hearing this crap day in, day out, it gets boring and you put on your bitch face to get rid of these losers...What you need to do to land this hot chick is take her by surprise and thus eradicate the 'bitch face'. But HOW do you do this?!?!

The answer?? NEGGING!

Negging involves putting a hot chick down (not TOO much but enough to surprise her). She is used to getting her ass kissed, so when you neg her, this will shock her and immediately her defense mechanisms will lower (her 'bitch face').

My personal favourite:

"Hey, sorry to bother you but I wanted to talk to the hottest girl in the room...(pause for effect)... she's all the way over there, so I'll practice on you first"

The key is not to go so far that you get slapped, but not to be a pussy either - get her thinking and be a bit sharp. The creme de la creme of ladies get complimented all the time, so to get in there you need to do something different. Remember - you're not the bitch, she is.

Good luck fellas.

Gina Carano:

Dream Girl or Your Worst Nightmare?

 

 

For those of you who’ve been living under a rock, Gina Carano is the gorgeous face of Women’s Mixed Martial Arts.

 

A Muay Thai champion, she is famous, not for partying at dodgy nightclubs, being “caught” nude on tape, and posing for Playboy - but for beating other chicks’ heads in for money.

 

Gina Carano is a brunette sex goddess, with a pretty face, and a washboard stomach.

 

She can also beat you to a pulp on a whim.

 

Also known by the names “Conviction” and “Crush”, this is not a woman you would want to mess with. Mess around with, yes. Mess with, no.

 

And here is the conundrum for the womanising, sport-loving, modern male:

 

Is this your idea of a Dream Girl or the epitome of your worst Nightmare?

 

Sure she’s gorgeous and she has a smile that makes the world look brighter.

 

But with one flick of her leg, she can also make you see stars.

 

Here at the Big Boys Club, we say, Gina, bring it on. We’re men enough to take a beating from a woman like you.

 

But please let us nestle into your bosom afterwards…

 

Lindsay Lohan

Or, Why I love train wrecks.

She smokes,

she drinks,

she drinks and drives,

she was once a child star,

she’s been to jail,

(and probably going back)

she’s been to rehab,

(and probably going back)

she takes drugs (allegedly),

she designs clothes (allegedly),

she dates girls,

she fights girls,

and she’s a natural redhead…

 

Lindsay Lohan is so wrong (on so many levels) and yet so right (on so many levels)…

 

Not just a pretty face and a criminal record, she also apparently cares deeply about politics, offering in 2008 to be a spokesperson for Barack Obama in his presidential campaign…

 

And, for some bizarre reason, Obama said no.

 

I would never say no to Lindsay.

 

Who knows why I love her so deeply?

 

For all the reasons listed above, and for a million others I couldn’t even begin to explain.

 

I guess I have this feeling that deep down, just like me, she would love pina coladas and long walks on the beach.

(Maybe she would love pina coladas a little bit more than long walks on the beach.)

 

Her past wouldn’t bother me… even her love of women really wouldn’t worry me at all (I’m an open-minded fella, after all).

 

Breasts are Back.

 

Well gentlemen, you’ll be pleased to hear that breasts are apparently back in fashion.

 

According to the fashion industry and women’s gossip magazines, breasts are having a well-deserved moment in the sun. After years of breasts being hidden away, starved, strapped down, ignored, derided and generally neglected, pop culture is suddenly allowing breasts to blossom again.

 

 

 

All we can say is…huh???

 

Only in a world where gay men are the taste-makers, could it be possible for women to think that having breasts is a bad thing. Blokes love boobs, and this ain’t gonna change – not in this millennium.

 

As far as the Big Boys Club is concerned, the breast is one of the natural wonders of the world. Some of our members would go even further and say – boobs are more powerful than religion or money.

 

Well, thankfully, in recent months we have seen the gorgeous likes of fuller figured models such as Gisele Bunchen, Bar Rafaeli, Laetitia Casta, Lara Stone, and Doutzen Kroes grace the catwalks and magazine covers. Hilariously, as this new trend takes hold, designers (such as Louis Vuitton, Miuccia Prada and Marc Jacobs in recent shows) are having to approach Victoria’s Secret models to walk on their runways – the average model apparently just can’t fill out the new styles.

 

On TV, the trend has also turned, with shows like Mad Men embracing the female form as something to be fetishised, fawned over and fondled. Christina Hendricks is leading the charge in this new “trend”, with her breast size coming in at an incredible 36 DDD. Impresssed? So are we. Those things are the secret to Mad Men’s success. They deserve their own Emmy.

 

Contemporary reality TV seems to be the natural home of the large breast, with The Hills gang whipping them out in a bikini as often as possible, and those Kardashian girls taking every opportunity for maximum exposure… Kim’s Playboy cover being a case in point. Paris who? It’s like comparing a yapping Chihuahua to a ferocious Lioness.

 

And in the music world, Jessica Simpson is happy again and has done us all a favour, allowing herself to blossom to her natural weight – 90% of it located on her chest.

 

It seems the hourglass is the new black.

 

 

 

Well, the Big Boys Club would argue that the hourglass is the one truly timeless design template in history. Let us make this perfectly clear - Men’s tastes simply DO NOT CHANGE. Hurrah for tits and arse, we say! It wasn’t pictures of boyish waifs that got the diggers through months in the trenches eating canned meat… it was women with bodies for sin and lips for…well, you get our drift.

 

Long live breasts – fake (Heidi Montag, we’re talking to you), natural, post-partum (Adriana Lim, Heidi Klum) – we don’t care, they’re all gorgeous.

 

Get ‘em out girls! Sharing is caring.

 

 

In light of recent allegations about several well-known figures (Mel Gibson, Chris Brown, Matthew Newton etc), The Big Boys Club has an urgent message for women everywhere… don’t touch this type of guy with a ten foot pole!!

 

Do not date them, do not marry them, do not pass Go and collect a black eye.

Yes, fame is attractive, and the powerful guy with charisma and money to burn has a lot to offer. And we get the “bad boy” appeal. But this is not about being powerful, or about being artistic, fiery, wild, dark and dangerous. It’s called being self-obsessed, unhinged and unloving. Ladies, you just don’t need this!!!

 

Of course, sometimes with behaviour like this, there are factors involved (drug and alcohol abuse, mental health issues, anger management issues, dysfunctional family background, etc), which require treatment and some level of understanding and care.

But let’s just state for the record - it is not a woman’s prerogative to put up with this kind of stuff, or to take responsibility for “provoking” it. It is the guy’s responsibility to acknowledge that it’s wrong, address it and solve it.

 

The Big Boys Club believes that women are to be enjoyed, cherished and respected. Women have all sorts of gorgeous special qualities which we, as men, admire and adore. We’re not stupid - we know that without women, we’d be smelly losers grunting at each other through a haze of pizza, smoke and beer fumes! We like being close to you, we like looking at you, and we love touching you. It makes us happy.

 

Any normal bloke finds it hard to understand how a guy could ever want to diminish a woman, make her feel fearful, or make her feel less than she is. Even more so why any guy would need to scream, yell, swear, hit and throw things. That’s what blokes’ paintball and poker nights are for.

 

Granted, the average bloke isn’t perfect and we’ll always do things you wish we didn’t, such as eat sandwiches without using a plate, repeatedly forget to take out the rubbish, and burp in public. But you’d do well to pick the guy who remembers his mother’s birthday, still speaks to at least one of his ex-girlfriends, and doesn’t display addictive behaviour. He’ll be the one that cherishes you, enjoys your company, and looks after you – and you won’t have to worry about a slap in the face afterwards.

 

 

A Fan For Life

Yep, I’ll say it…loud and proud baby! I’ll even shout it from the roof

tops or the highest mountain. I AM A KISS FAN!!!!!!!

I don’t know how it started or when it started. All I know is that my pre-pubescent life was an obsession of rock guitars, thigh high platform boots and, dare I say it…make up.

My pocket money was spent only on KISS merchandise. My bedroom wallpapered with posters of black and white faces with long tongues & frizzy hair. Mobiles hung from the ceiling, gold coins to prove I was a member of the KISS ARMY proudly displayed in glass cabinets, jewellery, clothing and yes… even dolls.

 

I was the kid that on Saturdays would paint my face like Ace Frehley and ride my skateboard down the main street. Nobody cared. They all just thought I was a total retard.

I loved their look and I loved their songs. I loved them… it was man love.

 

It wasn’t until I was in my mid twenties that I finally got to see my heroes live. (Mum wouldn’t let me go to their first Australian concert back in 1980, as much as I begged and pleaded and threatened to run away from home.)

I pulled my KISS tapes out of storage. The only memorabilia I had left. (T’was an ill-fated date leaving for university and an upcoming hospital fete.)

 

Listening again to my musical rock gods awoke a sense of eternal youth. With hard hitting lyrics like… “You’re good looking and you’re looking like you should be good.” (C’mon and love me.) Genius!!!!!!

 

It was to be a huge day. Not only was I going to the concert of a lifetime, but also there was a whole day convention to attend.

A museum of KISS erected in the Hilton hotel.

I dress in my finest… you never know whom you could meet. I take my place in the queue out front; scope out the talent, looking every bit a cool unit, then… Aaachoooooo!!! One big sneeze that left a huge slimy green mucous ball in the palm of my hand.  I had nowhere to go. No handkerchief, no tissue, no form of paper or plant life to be seen… I’ll just have to wipe it on the back of my backpack … there’s nowhere else to turn.

Inside the Hilton, I’m so in awe of all the KISS history. The costumes, the scrap paper with lyrics scribbled on it, the youngish girls who are looking for a bit of KISS action & they’ll find anyway to get it. If only my tongue were as long as Gene Simmons. I’d flick it from across the room like a frog catching a fly & bring those short skirted groupies undone…BANG! With all those fantasies racing through my mind I smack right into the Perspex surrounding Gene’s jewel encrusted codpiece. Smooth.

Now that I’ve impressed the punters, lets move onto the big boys.

Question and answer time with Paul Stanley and the Demon faced man himself.

I’m so excited when the microphone comes my way that I think I may have shot a small load into my pants. What question do I ask? I haven’t even thought. What do I want to talk about with these guys? I must sound intelligent, I have to sound like a good bloke, I have to be interesting so they’ll say “hey, I like this guy… ask him if he wants to come back and hang out with us.”

The mic approaches my lips. My sweaty palm reaches for the base clasping the techie’s hand. “Uhhh…. Gene… “(These are my heroes, make an impression.)… “ How many chicks have you slept with?”…

Oh man! It just slipped out! My brain went into primal. What I should have said was “Ooooga Booga.”  Would have had just the same impact.

And so it is… I didn’t get to hang out with KISS.

 

The concert that night ROCKED!!!! It was everything I hoped it would be. KISS delivered the spectacular that is their show and by the end I didn’t care that I was a mucous stained, bruised egg headed loser that went home alone.

My life cycle as a KISS fan was complete.

What got me reminiscing about my childhood heroes? Oh that’s right…

Check out this…

KISS SHREDS… Lots of laughs, put warmth into my heart & loins.

 

Torn Between Two Loves

Tuesday night is always my night to kick back. I make sure nothing interrupts. The phone’s off the hook, the computer’s off and the Mrs Is out visiting friends…perfect.

 

I Crack a beer, find my arse dint in the couch and put my feet up. The remote is poised in hand ready to flick through all the channels that I deem worthy to watch. Usually, it’s a no brainer. But tonight I was torn.

Miss Universe. I don’t usually go in for these kinds of things. It’s a bit girlie for me, or so I thought…

 

 

 

I think it was the purple bikini’s that caught my eye, then what was filling them. Sure, all the girls looked the same, Miss Albania, Miss Russia… Miss Nigeria.

 

All I saw was big hair, boobs, hips and legs. I mean , of course there were some variations… bigger boobs, smaller waists, longer legs. Some boobs bounced quite nicely with that perky strut they do, others didn’t budge a millimetre… but as all us blokes know… there are only two kinds of boobs… real and UNREAL!!!!!!!!

My thumb got itchy again when the dancing Elvis’s came out, that’s like watching a musical and I’m not going down that yellow brick road, buddy.

 

Back to the usual Tuesday night viewing, Top Gear. Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz. I have to admit I have a soft spot for Miss Diaz… and it’s growing firmer by the minute!

To see the way she handled a car on the track, pushing that gear stick around, screeching around the corners at high speed, and that filthy mouth of hers.( I love a girl who knows how to swear.) and I’m sorry… Tom who?

 

Ad break. I’ll just check to see what the ladies from around the world are doing.

Ahhhhh… just caught the end of the competition with one of the clones standing statuesqley at the front of stage in her crowned glory.  Who won? Which nationality is she? I can’t tell… “All look same to me”.

Finally the announcement. Miss Mexico… a South American sinorita. Hi yi yi. Gorgeous!!!

All I can say is… I’d love to put some meat in her Taco.