My Milkshake brings all the god damn chicks to the yard.

I fought with myself over typing that, my ethnic side got the better of me. Even though I have no ethnic ancestry.... but I do like feta cheese. I legitimately heard a guy say this at the 24 hour K-food express on Saturday night,  he had bumbling biceps with veins like fire-hoses. He was intimidating.

OK? Good Start. Great Start.

I know you are all wicked jealous of my witty banta, on Friday at work a colleague threw me a stress ball, that was shaped like a choo-choo train - but was by all accounts too firm to be used to actually reduce stress? Which begs the question - what is it then? To the untrained comedic mind - it was a dead end conversation. But for the veteran cogs of  pun geniuses - it was quite the opposite. For example, I turned to my pal Dan at work whilst squeezing the train like a beating heart and said......"Hey Dan, I'm TRAINING"...Bang. I mean, that is just effing classy. To his very well-earned credit he responded swiftly, offering "Not a bad effort - you were on the right track..." This pun ping-pong went on for the best part of half an hour. Notable contributions included "you would be steaming..." and "careful you might get a COAL-SORE"... I know right? Tremendous.

This game soon moved onto something requiring much more intellectual integrity. We have all played it in our junior years at some-point, and it is one of the few games that can earn you the badge of being a "Real Man". Its where you sit about 1.5 metres from the person opposite you (this is in an office where you can hear a mouse fart) and one of the two participants is required to withstand a pelted stress ball in the FACE. For some reason, I can guarantee you will be giggling like a girl scout. Its sparks the sort of laughter that results in tears. Like, do you know how hard it is to tense your face?? with impending danger? It makes you look absolutely ridiculous. Like Sylvester Stallone after he just smelt a fart, whilst sucking on a lemon in glaring sunlight or some shet. It is honestly one of the funniest things you can do with five minutes and an opponent. You will thank me. See?? This blog is different. It's a pioneer. We give, you take. It's like a cooking recipe website - but more bad-ass and fucking sweet.

These sort of shenanigans filled my weekend. Like on Saturday night whilst we were out at a licensed establishment, and we chose to play "quadruple points A to Z"..... Yeah, we know how to party. Its simple, you just go around the circle and say four words in a row, starting with the same letter, and attempt to offer a sentence that actually makes grammatical sense. Forget chatting to babes and jamming jager bombs - this is what the new wave of legends are up to. Answers like "Desperate Donkey's Do Dominos" were thrown out there - at which point the player promptly offers an argument as to Why this sentence is acceptable. "They do. They do do dominos - I've bloody seen them do it at the zoo" sort of thing. The more cider they consume, the more adamant they become that each others quadruple-A-to-Z answer is the best/worst/worthy. The game ticks every box..... Thanks Buns, no worries my students.

Until next time. Take care of yourselves..... aaaaaaaand each other.

Thumbs.

Blinded By The Lights

To aid the previous blog, here is some exciting scenes from The Streets on Monday. Geezers.

Many Happy Returns.




TSB

Farklife and other exciting features...

Roses are Red, violets are blue

Long weekend turns me to poo-poo...

The End.

It’s been a while – keeping well? YEAH I wanna sit down.

The weekend has vanished in a cesspool of elbow sprinklers, southern cross tattoos, footy-footy-footy and debilitating injuries. It’s OK, I will explain.

Them Ahhhh Shiny Brights played on Friday night with long-time RADelaide indie Vikings – CITY RIOTS. With the two of our bands repping busy interstate schedules of recent, coupled with A Shinys hiatus, it has been many moons since we have actually had the pleasure of playing along-side these boys – who were also supported by Adelaide’s Lyla. Not heaps has changed since we played with them first-up at Jive – They have gotten bigger, they are still tight-like-tiger, and are still gnarly human beings. I even let out a high-pitched “oh my goooood”, like Kim Duthie might, when they broke into Match sticks/She never wants to Dance. Always been a fan. Good guys. Good tunes. Great Band. Strong Cocks.

We also had the opportunity on this evening to ignite our long-weekend binges – which I was excited about, but the bouncer at Sugar wasn’t.... Cool.

Sat-Dee saw the injection of sport into the weekend which set the arm-bending pace. Hours later Regos back fence was on fire, Chris was wearing a corporate telephone headset whilst giving a haircut and rego was growing increasingly angry at those hiking style/casual shoes that he had spotted.  I was busy bringing the rain – having a swell time shooting hoops. And by that I mean Basketball – not men’s bums. OK?

How does a serial killer come into this story? This is how....

...I know, great read hey?

The wee hours of Sunday morning had me at Jive. Checked in – accompanied by 60 chunes. I made a trip to the bar for a daiquiri..I mean beer. It was here that my pants were moistened by the site of SNOWTOWN lead actor Lucas Pittaway AKA four-time first degree murder convicted Jamie Vlassakis. Here my night took a turn, my focus shifted from long-arming to following this sweet actor around Jive. His hair was slicked back into a mane. YEAH. As if to say “Yeah, it’s me”. I couldn’t take my eyes of him. He busted me looking at him like fifty times. But Fuck him – it’s not my fault he plays a serial killer really well.  He was actually palming off woman. I know how that is! Am I right? So fly. Lucas opted for a woman in the end, fair enough I guess. His loss though.

Farklife was on Monday. I was already at the Post Office in struggle Town too. It took all my cahonies to muster enough Morale to see the day out. But I did, because I am a fucking Ledge. Top acts/suprise packets for the day included DFA 1979, The Streets, Crystal Fighters and Little Dragon. Impressive to say the least – even when in some instances it wasn’t expected.

But what was expected was the countless arse-clowns with their shirts off. Full time flexers with Carpe Diem tats and enormous Prada sunnies. Painful – but at least they weren’t at the acts which actually had people playing instruments. If they were, they were lost. Which was funny. A girl also seemed to have broken her neck – this backs my earlier claim of serious injury. Apparently she nailed her head coming down from a crowd surf. But nobody knows what actually happened. But the chinese whispers were also amusing. I also saw our mate руководишь from one of our previous blogs there. I walked 100 metres right angles across to avoid a beat down.

Thanks for your readership.

Buns

Jump on here to download our new tune too - a FRESHER one will be up very, very soon.

http://www.triplejunearthed.com/TheShinyBrights

Hey...

Top 7 things that are irritating Alex right now.

1. Guys in suits on phones.

2. White leather loafers

3. Blonde tipped hair.

4. Those shoes that look like football boots with no studs

5. It's spelt capsicum...not capsicun.

6. Dubstep.

7. Dubbros (bros who like dubstep, normally seen in a low cut singlet)

Cheers.

Here is a lovely blog about an old song of ours. Weird. But we will take it....


http://partyaids.tv/the-shiny-brights

http://www.triplejunearthed.com/TheShinyBrights - go here and vote, apparently you get bigger muscles from it.


Alex/Buns

From Russia With Love

I now hereby bequeath our very first Tandem blog….

So Saturday night Buns and Alex went out after the Shiny’s “gegg” at The Gov in Adelaide. The show was good; we were asked if we knew any Pearl Jam by a guy in a Hawaiian shirt with flames on it so….joke’s on him I guess.

Anyhow, we ended up at a cocktail bar where there was talk of delicious and yet moderately priced drinks. We got out of the cab with a good friend of ours (for the sake of anonymity we’ll call him Bill Murray) and polished our drinks. Our efforts were nearly quashed when we were confronted by our mate Milosz. Now, Milosz was the most Russian bouncer we had ever seen. His accent was straight out of a movie. His tracksuit was definitely fast. The fastest. He would eat smoked herring on rye bread for breakfast, with black tea, whilst rubbing vodka into the wounds on his knuckles. He would let a sloooow groan as he did it too.  “…..eeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…..” Then he would go and bash some ice-bergs.

клоунов метеорного decided we were “too keshool” for this particular establishment. He did that Russian azzzz thing, where you just offer a quick pan up and down, with a face like you have just smelt someone else’s shit – then flick your chin in the air whilst you attempt to mutter the English words “too casual”. We were like those two geezers in snatch that take ages to realize the pikie is saying “DOGS”. But sadly for Milosz/Borris-the-blade/Eristoff - I dwell with one of the bartenders, and he reluctantly granted the three most inebriated plonkers entry into the bar – effective immediately.  He had a pooey face on him the rest of the night. Only until I was draining it in the toilet, half expecting the “Serbian strangle hold” from behind, and Milosz commended me on the African-American rap superstars on my t-shirt. Turns out he likes Eazy-E. He whispered it in my ear while I was weeing. I was shitting myself so badly I was just like “……..same”. But WHY does he listen to deceased, hard, hard gangster rapper Eazy-E? Anyone? Does Russia even allow rapping? Just in general?  Appreciated, nonetheless.

The three of us went on to frolic shamelessly and enjoy a number of delicious cocktails at a three-for-one price. We discussed everything from Milosz’s punching ability, to our own lack of punching ability, to how deliciously priced and fundamentally intoxicating the cocktails were – when coupled with my (Buns’s) stellar wit. Eventually Bill met a nice young lady, Buns and Alex played wingman to the tune of a 100% success rate. YEAH.

I hope everyone likes the swinging from second-to-third-person writing style which this particular blog offers. Cheers.

We arrived at our next port-of-call where things started to get pretty Monica Lewinski, and by that I mean loose and hazy. Bill decided to leave with his newfound temporary lover. Buns and Alex wished him well, and hoped he had a really great time. Upon arriving at the David Floor (d-floor) we decided that it was time we did some rug tearing/shape-cutting/usher impersonating. We cut rug like a discount flooring depot. We were copping hard props from random dudes who all looked the same. We slashed prices. EVERYTHING MUST GO, we shouted. Eventually we went to the bathroom and realized that we would need to hang onto the wall if we were to get out in one piece, or at least dry and with some sort of dignity.  Mission accomplished. Veterans. We kept slashing prices.

We both sort of lose track of the evening here. At some stage, and in some sort of vessel – we arrived home at our respective jay-o’s.

Buns: Forgetting that I had offered my abode to my two newly acquainted best buddies; Sam and Dale from Ben Salter’s band, I stumbled inside in a loud and obnoxious fashion. Only to be re-informed that the lads were asleep soundly on the living room couches. To Sam’s full credit – he got straight up and continued to pound beers with me until sunrise. A large evening. One of fruitful times. Tschus.

Rego: I am unable to recall, but it involved yelling at the toilet.

Many, many Thanks.

If you haven’t seen enough spam regarding our new single Blue Toes – then click here for a free download and a boner.

Buns + Rego

               

August Blog Video

It's that time again, yeah yeah I know - the suspense was killing you, you were on the edge of your seats etc. etc.

Apologies, and you're welcome.

"......Bust my ass??..."

Many Happy Returns,

$ TSB $

Chaired

A Nod of Affirmation...

So,

The August tour is over. Touring with Tales in Space, The Sunny Days and Tin Can Radio was a blast. We're back to regular life with a few shows around Adelaide and then hopefully we'll be back out on the road a bit later in the year.

You all read about the shit kick that Sydney was and how much of a nightmare it was getting up for THAT flight. Well we found someone on the last night of the tour, in Melbourne, who had obviously had that nightmare for an entire evening, culminating in something none of us ever expected to see.

I'll run you through the lead up;

After starting our night with some cheap but not that delicious meals (we know when you use tip-top burger buns and kraft singles cheese, it doesn't hurt to splash out on a lepinja and maybe some swiss cheese? Fuck you), we then headed off to the venue and bumped into our fine tour buddies "Tales in Space" from Sydney. We discussed the finer points of synth stage moves and shit burgers.

Fast forward a few hours and we'd all consumed hundreds of beers. We caught up with Adelaide "besties" (fuck off) The Daylight Braves. They were at the tail end of their tour promoting their latest single "Summer at Last". We spent more time downing more beers at a premium price.


On our way home, collectively stumbling along, we noticed a shape further down the road holding onto something. As we kept walking the shape appeared to be a guy, holding onto a pole, hanging his arse over the path. We walked past him until Wolf did the sums and called out "Excuse me mate.......*pause*.....*deep breath*.....but are you taking a shit?"


The guy then looks at us and gives us a simple nod.

He then proceeds with his task at hand and then falls on the ground. In his own shit.


Tour over.


Alex Rajkowski


If you havnt already Smashed our new tune "Blue Toes", Click HERE for a free download.

Join the Nunnery

This is a quote I like…

I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.
-Bruce Lee


What a ledge….


It is actually quite profound, but It may or may not apply to the following blog/s


As I embark on an intended “dry” weekend (no guarantees) I would like to outline some of the reasons why the idea is, well…..not worth it.


1. You know when you’re drunk, and so is every other sack at the pub you attend every weekend – and you have that 3am conversation with some fiend who talks too close? Like, he’s on his damn tippy-toes, with his head cocked towards his right shoulder, so that he can burp his fucking bourbon-tosis away to his right while he tries to get his shit point across to you – which you have already forgotten? And, and…and he bobs a little higher on the balls of his feet every now and then for the odd Punchline, like Brent? This guy is SO much more offensive and irritating when your sober-as-a-judge, trying to kindly put the pieces together of his epic last-weekend bar fight story - which is grossly over exaggerated, to the point where you’re now egging him on to “tell us more” without him realizing you think he is an enormous TWAT. For me this is the number one reason to just drink – aimlessly.


2. The Last time I had a weekend without a drop was when I had my wisdom teeth removed two and a half years ago, so it took physical trauma to pull the plug for a weekend last time I faced such adversity. The Second reason why it blows so badly is when you don’t drink….sorry, when you don’t binge – you become this reclusive weirdo around chicks? This is applicable to me anyway. Many of my friends/band-mates are in the same boat. You become this generic bender – who has that staple conversation with everyone until one of the two of you are SO bored/pissed off, that you do an Alex Cameron – and just bail on the conversation altogether. Mid sentence if need be. Also, while you doing it, you KNOW your doing it. Having that cringe-town friendly chin-wag. If you have held out this long on a sober weekend – now you’re bonging jager.


3. Just don’t be sober.

This blog is dedicated to Alex Minicozzi. Why? Click Here

Aaaaaand joke for the Day? Courtesy of Wolfgang…
Why did the sperm cross the road?
Because you put on the wrong socks today….


Buns.