Maria, don’t look now, but there’s a guy at the bar and I think he likes you.

So today, the BBC have claimed to have uncovered the best job in the world. To quote from the source, “they want someone to work on a tropical island off the Queensland coast. No formal qualifications are needed but candidates must be willing to swim, snorkel, dive and sail. Duties include feeding some of the hundreds of species of fish and collecting the island’s mail.” I could do that. I’m not even scared of fish. You could do that. I’m not sure where you stand on the subject of fish. But I just bet it’ll be some incredibly good looking Marine Biologist with an IQ of 207, a stunning tan, exceptional teeth and an overdeveloped sense of modesty who lands that role. The bitch!

Another job from down under, where satisfaction is guaranteed, is Condom Tester for Durex. No, really! Okay, so the pay is pretty crappy but the perks, oh the perks. Actually there are no perks. You get $60 worth of free condoms for which you have to “provide honest feedback“. Next!

Careercast drop their oar in the water and attempt to churn up a list of the 200 best jobs but damn me if they haven’t gone and placed accountant in the top 10. I’m not saying being an accountant necessarily sucks but I bet if you confidentially surveyed a bunch of them, accountant wouldn’t slot into their top 10. They’d rather be ski instructors or shark testers. I mean let’s face it, I bet there ain’t too many accountants waking up this morning shivering with anticipation about the upcoming bank reconciliation they’ve got to have finished by COB.

In fact, lets take a little closer look at the criteria CareerCast have used in ranking their top 200. I’m of the opinion that their list is a little flawed. Here it is, you decide: stress, work environment, physical demands, income and outlook. Damn me if they haven’t left out the most important criterion of all, enjoyment. Surely enjoyment could slide in there ahead of physical demands? Gotta get into shape, gotta feel the burn, got a balance sheet to prepare!

So back to our friends at the BBC. They’ve obviously snuck enjoyment into their criteria list. Although using CareerCast’s criteria, the Hamilton Island gig would still rank fairly close to the top – up there with software engineer and actuary.

If you’ve got the dinero why not visit Private Islands Online, make your purchase and collect your own mail. I could help?

I’d love to hear your opinion on the perfect job – accountants welcome.

What’s better than a freshly baked croissant for breakfast? A croissant where the pastry is flaky and still warm, the ham is straight off the bone and the cheese is melted to perfection. I can almost taste that bad boy now. Mmmmmm, sounds good huh? But now there’s an oily film on the top of my imaginary latte. But I digress.

Unless you’re spending a night in a swanky hotel, how is it that you can get hold of a piping hot croissant first thing in the morning? I mean, it’s not as if there’s a sort of shop like a butcher shop or a grocer shop that sells bread and bread type products is there. I wish!

And who knows how to make those little bastards from scratch huh? I mean, what’s in a croissant? Is there fish in there? What sort of herbs should you use? Can they be steamed or should they be boiled? Doesn’t boiling kill a lot of the vitamins in a croissant? How do you make them so high? So many questions. Who knows that shit? Am I right? Am I right?

Anyway, back in Helsinki they’ve got the whole issue of home-cooked croissants sussed. Never again will you need to stay in a posh hotel just to get a croissant fix. Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce, croissants in a can (see picture above).

Yes, after years of laboratory testing the good people at Danerolles (that’s Danish for fuck you France) have managed to apply can technology (the very same technology that was applied to little hot dogs in the 70′s) to the humble croissant. And I for one, just couldn’t be happier. Really!

Then have we got the gift for you.

Kendall Crollus and Anne Montgommery have finally put together the book that was just crying out to be penned. Following on from Anne’s incredible success with, Why Vacuum, When you can Lick the House Clean and Kendall’s release from Cliche Acres, comes their long-awaited best-seller.

“It just sort came to me one day,” snorted Anne, fondling a cucumber and kinda looking in two directions at once.

“Now I’ll always be able to smell Pepe Peablewood,” beamed a clearly psychotic Kendall, wearing a beanie that was once, quite obviously, Schnauzer.

Chapters include, “Mexican chic – the Poodle poncho” and “Getting the shit off your Shepard – elderly Alsatian hair preparation“.

Roger practiced the deep breathing exercises he’d learnt from the anxiety CD he got from his mum. Britney Somerville may have found him “repulsive” and “gross” in the past but that was before the plain-wrapped parcel had arrived from Japan. Today was the start of a whole new era of cool. The knife arms would persuade her. Oh yes, the knife arms would persuade her.

Though less frisky and certainly more tardy over the jumps since the incident, Michelle was impressed with recent savings in food costs and was considering moving Señor Clip Clop into her apartment with a view to further savings.

Hungover and tired? Hell yeah! Then why write anything of note when you can just provide a handful of well researched, well written pieces from other reputable sources.

Here come 5:

New year’s day seems as good a day as any to consider why falling off the wagon isn’t fatal. And if that’s not enough to lift your spirits a little, check out these 5 homeless guys who have accomplished amazing things. Spruce up your desktop with some funkified new wallpaper from Steampunk, form a new habit with the help of Zenhabits and do your good dead for the day by giving a cup of food to the hungry – it’s free and it takes about 2 seconds. Hell, why not do it again tomorrow too.

This blogging business is a piece of pish! I’m going back to the couch.

So it’s that time of year again – the end of it.

My body’s in decline as we inch toward the shank of the party season and the rejuvenation that January promises. Just one more day, just one more day. This December has been particularly taxing. After spending last December in the sunny clime of an Australian summer, I’m back in Europe, and the cold, dark top of it to boot.

The shortest day of the year (December 21st-ish) in Helsinki has just passed – a day when the sun poked it’s head up at about 10.30, lazily arced across the horizon for a few hours and disappeared sometime just before 3. It’s playing havoc with my sleep patterns. Some nights I’m still racking up eleven hours. I’m yet to determine whether it’s a good or bad thing. I’m just praying that come June, there’s not some sort of weird calender-based compensation which sees me having to get by on 3 hours a night!

So on a personal note 2008 was a bit of a hoot – it started off with a mad, visa-renewing dash with Heidi to China, Hong Kong and Macau and ended with a freighter trip from Australia to Italy (past our friendly machine-gun totting, tanker stealing, Somalian friends in the Gulf of Aden – I slept pretty well in the Red Sea after that little episode, just let me tell ya) and an overland jaunt via Eastern Europe to Finland. All good fun, though I think on the travel side things have got to slow down a touch in ’09. Just like Roger Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon, I’m getting too old for this shit.

So, 2009 huh. We should be brimming with optimism right? I was optimistic this time last year and now look what’s happened! World markets in free-fall, big business bailouts (I’m crap at business too, where’s my billions?), violence on the streets of Lhasa, Mumbai in flames, cyclones in Burma and earthquakes in Sichuan. As I type, Gaza is being bombed back to the Stone Age and over in Iraq, the war that ended back in ’03 mysteriously rolls on.

But there’s been some positives – our man Obama heading for the big house (yes he can), that li’l prick Johny Howard finally ousted from power down under (ok, technically that was December 2006 but for the sake of flow) and small indications that, following some minor hiccups, David and Victoria Beckham have finally settled into the LA lifestyle. You little ripper!

So on to 2009. Well for starters, it’s going to be shorter than 2008 by a whole second – a leap-second – but that’s about as far as I’m willing to take it on the prophecy front. As for brash predictions on a world scale, I’m steering well clear. Based on years past, I got no idea. But it can’t be a step backwards from ’08, can it? I’ll start with a touch of optimism again and we can take it from there.

Whatever happens, I wish you all a happy new year for 2009 and hope you’ll drop by from time to time, sign up to my feed, leave a comment or 2 and help me get this Astray Buffet thing off the ground.

Remember, party hard but respect the fish!

Cartwright P. Moocjheenie

The Mooc has the breath of an angel and can move sideways quicker than you. He is at once talkative and shy, with a razor wit and bayonet smile. Men are known to contemplate gayness upon catching  his scent – a sort of wasabi infused honey. His skin glows like a commercial. Neither tall nor short (4 foot 23 on the old scale) he’s both chiseled and supple in equal measures. As an interesting side note, Scott Baio once commented on his feet.

A youthful Mooc battled Bill Cosby – though Bill was young and impressive then – and would have had him too if the law of the day had allowed his tactic.

At a not-so-recent ceremony he employed a tuxedo so powerful and ingratiating that he received an on-the-spot lifetime achievement award. All this at the age of 26 and with little or no achievement to speak of. That was, that is, the Mooc. Enigmatic, sure, phlegmatic, yeah why not, passionate, without doubt, egotistic, fuck off!

The tux aside, clothes and the Mooc have enjoyed an on again, off again relationship. He wears them with aplomb when he does and swings majestically when he does not.

Pleasantries are not required in his presence. He’ll force you down if you persist and drag you if he feels the need. Once at a rally for those in need he gave a speech so inspiring, 17 died and 12 were injured. On another occasion he argued that colour didn’t exist. He won that! He wins most.

1. she’s coming up, so you better get the party started.
2. she’s a rock star, she’s got her rock moves.
3. she can fit your whole house in her swimming pool.
4. she can’t stay on your morphine, ’cause it’s making her itch.