Congratuwatchout!

A multi-use term invented by some of my friends in Melbourne which is going to take the world by storm.

THE STARS:

At first glance, this seems like a word that will only be used in a small amount of high drama situations, like when a priest is about to marry you and as he starts to say congratulations, the bride turns out to be a raptor and bites at you. The priest quickly changes his congratulations into a watch out, either in fear of the sanctity of your head, your unbroken heart or even your immortal soul.
CONGRATUWATCHOUT! Indeed.

LACK OF STARS:

On closer inspection, there’s a far darker side to the congratuwatchout phenomenon, easily summed up in these three examples.

1. CONGRADUATIONS!

IT’S ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE, YOU FOOLS.

You have finished your four year degree at the tertiary institution of your choice. Congratulations!
Good job buddy! Yeah, man, you worked really hard on that. You deserve it, that’s fantastic pal.

OR IS IT?

“Join the IT industry, they said, see the world they said. I’m the unhappiest ranga in the world.”

One week later, you’ve left the warm sticky bosom of the university and what are you doing? Mining computers. So, next time somebody is graduating, make sure you say congratuwatchout. It acknowledges all the hard work they’ve put in to getting this far, but also subtly warns them of the pain and horror that awaits them.

2. HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Hey man, happy 29th birthday, that’s really cool man, hope you have a great day. Congratulations.
Yay, birthdays are fun aren’t they.

Happy… birthday… to…. *sob* meeeeeeee.

But CONGRATUWATCHOUT!
You’re one stop closer to being dead.

3. Childbirth.

SELF EXPLANATORY.

THE SCORE:

5/5 stars.

THE COMMENT

I’ve been in Melbourne for a week, land of the never stop drinking ever. Also, I have a play to write in the next… week? That may mean more or less posts. For example, today I am procrastinating by writing this one instead of my play. And I feel bad that I didn’t put one up in Melbourne. But it wouldn’t have made any sense. It would have been a picture of a dinosaur finger puppet with the caption ‘LEADER IN HIS FIELD’.

Wollongong

A small city on the south coast of NSW, Australia.

THE STARS:

Geography-

Existing in an uneasy alliance between towering mountains and frigid blue seas, there’s a small gap of time where the human brain can appreciate the raw beauty of the Illawarra region, before being utterly terrified by the steep mountain passes and ever present girdle of thick fog that makes driving, walking or singing a living nightmare.

Climate-

No matter how you’re dressed, IT’S ALWAYS WRONG.

History-

An essay in failure, Wollongong is populated entirely by the descendants of people who realised that their particular field of employment was wildly unsuitable for the region. Whether agriculture, aggressive dancing or digging up ‘blue steel’ from the ground, nothing has really stuck. Enjoying a brief renaissance from the popularity of ‘grunge’ music in the 90s’, Wollongong squats to the south of Sydney like that awkward childhood friend who decided to come to your 21st despite the fact you haven’t seen them in fifteen years. They’re wearing corduroy.

LACK OF STARS:

Demographics-

Figure 1a.

Transport-

One of the more convoluted mule systems on this side of the Pacific.

Media-

The Illawarra Mercury does an admirable job of keeping the populace up to date on people who have recently found their lost pets and dada-esque articles on the rampant and incessant corruption that occurs on all levels of local government.

BREAKING NEWS.

Arts and Entertainment-

In terms of nightlife, the undenied hot spot – like a Gonorrheic sore – is the well known nightclub ‘The Glasshouse’. The funky success of this club has led to the popular saying,
“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks at babies, you filthy skanks”.

Wollongong is also the cultural capital of a quaint custom known as ‘glassing other bitches’.

NIGHTLIFE.

Sport-

I believe they have all the prerequisite teams of rapists and exposers to be able to compete at a national level.

THE SCORE:

2/5 stars. That place is whack.

Rebecca Black

My friend Geoff Lemon commissioned me to review viral sensation, Rebecca Black. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here you go. Enjoy.

THE STARS:

Yes, yes, yes. The lyrics are the most deplorable word salad that’s ever been heard this side of a dictionary having an epileptic fit. I know. But I have a theory that will revolutionise the world of pop music. For generations, pop has skated the thin line of banality and catchiness, abominably fitting words into simple melodies.

What Rebecca Black has done is simplify the pop song into a stream of consciousness monologue. It still means absolutely nothing, like the pop songs of old, but reduces the entire process to her simply noticing things around her. In her debut single, she literally wakes up on a Friday and then expresses her basic thoughts as she listlessly ghosts through the day, thinking of the weekend.
As she says, ‘we, we, we so excited’.

Personally, I think this is a bold and welcome change. I like my drivel knowing that it is drivel.

LACK OF STARS:

The Spontaneity Review presents:

TUESDAY: (Official Video)

# 11.45 waking up in the morning, gotta find out where I am, gotta get going I am cold.
Gotta move my legs, remember how to breathe, where are my pants?
It’s Tuesday, Tuesday, gotta find my pants on Tuesday.
Vaguely dreading the weekend, weekend.
Tuesday, Tuesday, ridiculously hungover on Tuesday,
 scared of this strange bearded mannnnn.
Partying, partying. Yeah! Partying, partying. Yeah!
Fun, fun, fun, fun,
Gotta make my mind up, I see my pants!
Tuesday, Tuesday, really hate Tuesday.
Kick my pants down on Tuesday.
We, we, we, so awkward.

THE SCORE: 1/5 stars.