This blog has, for the time being, moved here http://liamlowvoltage.tumblr.com/

Let's see how this goes. Or something.


It's been so long since we had a proper girls night out, just with the lads

HOLY shizz!

So, I have a Rasta guardian angel, y'know. http://liamlowvoltage.blogspot.com/2010/11/did-i-ever-tell-you-about-my-guardian.html

And ...
I now know ...
where he lives.

On my fucking street.
Saw him today, mowing his lawn.
The most angelic fucking lawn you'll ever lay eyes on.


"I smacked that bitch up hard. So why is it Boxing Day then?"
Can you not watch a 2 minute clip of a bunny grooming itself without Honda Civic Type R advertisements all up in your face!?

Let's not and say we did.

My friend Rush, who is of Bangladeshi decent, is currently in Bangladesh with family. She's vividly anti-theological, with vividly conservative Muslim parents. It's the best! Oh, and like many of my friends, we like to think she's romantically involved with my mother.

I long for yo mama everyday man. Everyday my heart aches. And yeah, the culture in Bangy is the worst culture in the world. I hope you know that. I'm gonna be wearing a burka tomorrow. So exciting.
30 Nov 8:44pm

Sorry dude. Ran out of credit. But no, I dont have to wear a burka. I WANT to. lol one, theres not a million guys staring at you, two, its kind of amazing. Its kind of an invisibility cloak. Im the female harry potter, bitch.
1 Jan 5:16pm
I'll text her sometime soon to see how she's handling Hogwarts, Bangladesh Campus.
Just called to say thank you. Ur creative idea of a kkk boy committing suicide after knocking up a slut who had a black baby for my scriptwriting play must have been a hit and entertained my teachers to have let me pass my english course :) Wouldntve been possible without ur help!
- Karen
5:20pm 30th Nov

(I met Karen in Japanese class, first year of uni. She is graduating. I get teary thinking about our time at uni ending. I'm genuinely happy for her but at the same time, I wish we could all bake a cake of rainbows and smiles and graduate together holding hands, and happiness would radiate out of our butt cracks and world hunger would be a thing of the past.)


You know that age old adage "You are what you blog?"
Which essentially makes me Henry and Beverly Hills 90210.

I so have no grip right now. I think i threw up and had a sausage roll.
-27th Nov 1:27am

Compared to his usual texts, which are complex masterpieces, this text, this text about throwing up, and then having a sausage roll plays on the simple concept of continuity, and in it's simplicity, is, in and of itself, a triumph of English literature.
I can only assume that when Henry texts, his fingers channel some pool of raw humanity that is off-limits to others. Here's what I mean:

Haha maybe. Or maybe i'll gag myself and then swallow my own vomit?
- 4th Nov 6:49pm

Henry's texts seem to revolve around common themes and although his prose tends to lie somewhere between Baroque and existential, with a tendency to be Neo-romantic at times, obvious influences would (presumably) include the more modern works of Sylvia Plath and Perfume. (citation needed)

If I started a story with "That three-year-old totally deserved it," would you listen?
- 2nd Nov 11:19am


On the 13th of November (last month), I experienced "5 indulgent layers of vertical yum!"

For those of you who are new to vertical yum, a little advice:
You may think you're ready. You may say to yourself "How vertical can this yum be?"
Let me tell you, it's the most vertical yum that ever existed.

God didn't know what to do with himself when he came up with the concept of layering yum in the least horizontal of manners.


For Axel


Note: I never show Axel the respect he deserves. Not as my intellectual superior; not as the penultimate example of genetic European evolution that he is, and certainly not as a human being. So, in honour of tradition, I thought it fit that I should be the one to "flip him the bird" in this 'pop-culturally' relevant fashion.

Here's to Axel, and here's to the 'retarded hive-mind'.



Do you ever dip delicious things that aren't as absorbent as you'd hoped into coffee, and then when you pull it out, due to its lack of absorbency it's dripping hot coffee onto your everything- hand, floor, mum's vagina?
In Australian primary schools, where school uniforms are usually mandatory, there are days when you're allowed to wear regular clothes to school if you bring a coin donation. It's school fundraising and a weird concept that no one ever challenged or thought deeply about.

First grade, the day before my first 'free dress day' experience, my teacher, Mrs Clo (Chlo? Cloe? Klow?) was giving us the low-down on what would be appropriate and inappropriate attire for the class room.
All I can recall her saying was "Don't come to school with jeans ripped at the knees."
(Obviously the 90's)
But what I think about now is, who the fuck did she think bought our clothes at that age? Axl Rose?

Toooo cute >< EEEEEeeeeee惃

I will never find emotional vulnerability more tolerable than what this image here encapsulates. Never.
I've never wondered what we have become as a direct result of Facebook. But if I had to prepare a short presentation on the topic, you can bet "Dom" here would be around 75% of the source material.
This is the most bizarre display pic I have ever, EVER seen.
That bird does not like being held at that angle. What animal does like being held up against a grown man's face; sandwiched between lips and the force of gravity?

Normally I would, of course, condone something this advant garde.
Buuut... (according to Facebook) his interests include "motorcycles" and "martial arts"... so perhaps this in just unintentionally... funny.

Here's to the kids who just don't get it.

"Hhhmmm, upload a profile picture? What about the one where I'm lying down with a parrot to my face? Yes. Yes, I'm sure no one would ever think of blogging about that. In the clear!"



If I had to compile a list of my favourite Wikipedia articles, these would most certainly make the cut:

King of Cambodia, Norodom Sihamoni

Ai Iijima (courtesy of Richard)

Human zoo


Pokemon bandages: essential

"Kids Ban!"

I recently(ish) became Facebook friends with some girls I went to high school with.
I never had anything against them, and I still don't.
That being said, these simple women have 2 default settings: Boring and ignorant.
The status updates above would be examples of the latter.
Sometimes I wonder whether we really did attend high school together, or whether they were home schooled, and this is some huge government conspiracy.
I also wonder whether they read this blog.


Remember when us men all went through that confusing phase of being inexplicably turned-on by Henry sticking it to the man and telling modern day working culture to go "choke on a chicken schnitzel"?
I can't speak for you ladies, (I will though) but I can imagine you kinda freaked your nuts off.
Well, Henry is taking his excessively charming self back into the workplace.
Here is his interesting (read: warped) take on the common practice of job interviews:

Interviewer 1: skinny Asian-looking chick. Late 20s. Last name White (Barry White?). Rootability scale: 7.5
- 1.13pm 23 Nov

Interviewer 2: mid 30s father-figure, fit, graying roots. Nice smile.
Rootability scale: 8.0
- 4:01pm 23 Nov

I thought it was about time I got off my arse and made some money... so I applied for two jobs on sunday. Got 2 callbacks for interviews the next day. 2 for 2. On tuesday. Isn't that a pizza hut deal?
- 4:03pm 23 Nov


I've got something to live for: to find something worth dying for.

For a minute there I thought I was onto something really profound. But it turns out that's just what happens when you try and convince yourself that your poor academic achievement this semester is irrelevent. You get all faux real and existential, like, fo' real.


This is the King of Cambodia, Norodom Sihamoni.
Wikipedia says before being king he was known for his work as a cultural ambassador in Europe and as a classical dance instructor.
A classical dance instructor. Instructor of the most classical of all the dances. Him. He instructs them.

And, if you don't mind me saying, he is pretty darn good lookin'.
King Norodom, if you're reading this, I am considering going full blown gay for you and your money and your dance instruction.
Read his Wikipedia article because he sounds like the grooooviest guy.
He's my favourite king now. He's practically my favourite human being.
A testament to confronting concepts over confronting images:

I am putting this here not because I like it, but because it is gross. Uuugggh. Just looking at it makes me wanna hurl. Uuuugggghhhhh. I'm gonna be sick.
Shirley: Oh, Steve! You shouldn't have! I told you not to buy me anything.

Steve: C'mon Shirls. It's your birthday. If it makes you feel any better it's nothing grand. Just a little something.

Shirley: You are so sweet. I don't know what I did to deserve you.

Steve: Just open it.

Shirley: Okay! Yay! *unwraps present*

Steve: Well... do you like it, dear?

Shirley: ...

"OH. MY. GOD. I've been holding this skinny guy's wrist for 45 minutes now.
New world record!!"

Sometimes I question whether this 'blogging persona' of mine is destroying me along with any credibility I ever had. (Answer: Yes. It is.)
Today, my friend turns to me and out of nowhere says "Liam, have you ever even thought about getting a job!?"
I went on to inform her that out of the both of us, she's the only one to never have had a job.
I also went on to remind her that we were friends when I was working.
"Ooh yeah. That's riiight. I remember you working there. And there, too."

Point being?
I come across as someone who has never had a job/ can't hold down a job/ blogger.
I come across as someone who professionally blogs, so HARD, that I'm actually brainwashing people into thinking I've never worked a day in my life.
Give me 20 minutes alone with my previous employers and they'll swear they never even met me.
Twen. Ty. Minutes.


I youtubed Katy Perry's 'Firework' music video today.
What can I say? I'm a sucker for anything even remotely resembling electro; anything with a sampling of synth; and anything with Katy Perry.
Scratch that last part.
It's a 'basic' music video about being yourself or something.
It features a fat girl coming to terms with her inner slut. It has a gay dude coming to terms with his inner slut.
Then it's got some kind of terminally ill kid escaping hospital... possibly to realise his dream of being a slut?
But by far the most important part of the entire music video would be a magician getting mugged and then wowing his assailants with his magic tricks.
Or maybe it's when fireworks start shooting from Katy's breasts.
Can she make music videos without things coming out of her breasts or is that some kind of contractual obligation?

I give Katy Perry's 'Firework' 5/5

Chloe made the discovery of the century late last night when she mentioned that typing 'wide awake' into your phone comes up as 'wife cycle.'
Mind. equals. blown.
Ya’aburnee (Arabic) – Both morbid and beautiful at once, this incantatory word means “You bury me,” a declaration of one’s hope that they’ll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them.
Read this piece on Lil Wayne at Platform.
Are you tryin'a tell me this is bubblegum infused ice-cream?

Ever think about mentioning this to me sooner, you fucking cunt?

Thoughts I had today

"The day Neighbours start using the word 'foreskin' is the day I'll start watching it."

I got no idea what I meant, either.
Wait, wait, wait. Movember is about raising money for prostate cancer research? I thought it was about making chemo recipients feel awful.


Would you like to know what's not Hijab?

No no no no no no no no no no

He's single and he's ready to mingle. Ladies, it's about time you took a walk on the wild side, wouldn't you say?

Maybe not.
I got this Superman endorsed body wash because this is what Superman washes his body with.
It's Up, Up & Away Apple Fragrance because anyone who's ever met me knows that's my favourite apple fragrance.

I'm seeing Machete tomorrow, and I'm hoping against hope it will be a movie I end up caring about. Because apparently, movies don't impress me anymore

Did I tell you I sawThe Loved Ones?
Oh, and did I tell you I saw Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work... and Detective Dee: The Mystery of the Phantom Flame... and Jack Ass 3D?
Well now I did.
So when I reference these movies later, you won't be all "Awww, what the faarkk?"... No, you'll know. You'll know exactly what I'm sayin'.
(Word of advice, no need to really bother seeing any of those movies.)
- Oh, and don't bother with The Social Network either. I saw that too.
Syntax: Me:
Knowing that I will never again take another syntax class for the rest of my life is how Aung San Suu Kyi must feel right now.
UGGGGGGGGGH someone fucking spare me, the end of the academic year feels goood!

Needless to say, I'm following this blog. "Don't follow me if you're fat blog" is so balls out genius I'm freaking my nuts off! I have no idea what this "15 year old Claire" (who I'm hoping is actually a 20 something Korean-American) even blogs about yet. But I'll keep you posted.
(Keep you posted. That's a blog joke. Get it?)

There are two (and only two) things I look for in a woman: fabulous handwriting and killer tits.
Did I ever tell you about my guardian angel?
It was late 2008, and I was buying a digital camera. I spotted him from a far in a Dick Smith Electronics. I was with a friend, and the only other person in the store was this "Rasta" looking guy with beautiful, shimmering, angelic dreads, wearing a beanie in the traditional Rastafarian colours.
I like to think he was there to ensure I bought a quality camera at a reasonable price.
Later that day at a COMPLETELY different shopping centre, with HUGH, EXPANSIVE parking lots, I was trying (and failing) to park. It was all about weird angles, and there was also a shopping trolley kinda in the space and it was cramped and I was pretty much performing a home abortion in the parking/metaphorical sense.
My friend couldn't even open the door (without hitting another car) to get out and direct me out of my predicament WHEN low and behold, the same Rastafarian guardian angel who was at the same store at the same time as I was buying my camera turned up, stood at the back of my car and through a series of hand movements and thumbs up, directed me safely out the parking space of death, without hitting any stationary objects.
True fucking fact.
Since then that friend and I have always referred to him as my guardian angel. I mean, we actually refer to him as my Rastafarian guardian angel, but, it's not like I have any other guardian angel. Just him.
I also saw him on a bus... get this... in the fucking suburb I live in... 2 years later.
Mind = blown.
So, this picture is (I guess) what that eventful day at the Garden City parking lot would look like if there were to be a movie based on my life.
A little bit of artistic license obviously taken into account, given the fact that I, my friend, and my guardian angel look nothing like those people (bar the fact that we are white, and he is black with dreads.)
Also, we didn't get out of the car and and all stare solemnly, side by side, letting the repercussions of our narrow escape from a botched park really sink in. But, once again, artistic license. (Because attractive people and solemn, dramatic moments don't really play a role in my life... and no one wants to watch a movie without those things.)
Remember the carefree days of our youth when you'd be so happy just to discover a gargantuan vag with a fire and a family of squirrels inside? Things were so much simpler then.