Anger Management 101.

19 03 2010

Dear Dr. Lazlo, when I get mad I tend to break things (small objects, house doors, people’s faces etc.) and this usually leads to costing me lots of money (replacing objects, fixing doors, paying off assault fines) it also has started to cause problems with the missus. If something slightly irritates me it’s “please don’t break something you always fucking break shit, you have no respect” this causes me to get mad and break things. Usually I want it to be her bones but for now I’ve been able to restrain myself and only bust up her pets and family members. What can I do to curb this violent temper of mine?

-Yours Truly, A Secret Sk8parx Forumer.

Hello there, Secret Angry Forumer. Do you mind if I call you Steve for this little session? I only say that because after reading your email, I immediately thought you sounded like a ‘Steve’ would sound like. I do believe my parents did the same thing but to this day I have no idea what a ‘Lazlo’ would sound like. Perhaps like a cross between the chirping of a recently hatched bird and a slightly broken edge trimmer. I’m not too sure.

You certainly do seem to have a few issues, don’t you Steve. Anger management is something that all of us have had to deal with in some point in our lives. Even your everyday peace-loving hippy can go into a frothy mouthed rage at the drop of a hat. Especially if they find a chunk of meat in their vegan stew. Especially if you put it there. My, that is a fun game. I suggest you try it one day. For extra fun, add cheese and dairy products into a lactose intolerant person’s meal and watch the expletives fly. It certainly does help to pass the time. A word of warning though, people who are allergic to peanuts are usually VERY allergic to peanuts. I found this out the hard way.

Controlling your anger is the first step. You say when things slightly irritate you, you then fly off the handle and break things including household objects and faces? Might I suggest some meditation? I find meditation to be a great way to focus your energy and control your feelings. Of course, it may also cause you to focus your anger, in turn making you an efficient killing machine who uses his hands to wreak vengeance upon an unsuspecting (or suspecting given how much you might yell when charging people) victim. Remember to breathe. Deep breaths in and out. I sometimes find that making a “weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” sound on the exhale makes the anger go away and fills me with a calming influence. It also indicates to other people nearby that you are meditating and not in some sort of drug stupor.

Once we have a handle on your anger we need to then work out why you fly into rages at the drop of the hat. Does something trigger your moods, Steve? I find ignorant people, the colour green and men called Nigel cause me to get all slitty-eyed and punchy. I also find when I am frustrated that my anger levels increase proportionately to my frustration levels. I first noticed this occurrence when I was on holidays with my Grandparents on the Gold Coast. They lived about 150m from Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary and it was always my dream to visit there for fun and frivolity. I was mainly interested in feeding the Rainbow Lorikeets but also fairly keen on finding and killing the bird that went “Berrrrk!!!” every morning waking me from my slumber. The day came when my grandparents took my sister and I to the sanctuary but much to my horror they drove us to Fleay’s Fauna Park in Burleigh Heads because it was cheaper. Let’s not get into the fact that I could see the fence to the Currumbin Sanctuary from my bedroom, it was far too expensive for my stingy grandparents.

If you haven’t been to Fleay’s Fauna Park, it can be described as a poor cousin to the Currumbin Sanctuary. All the animals are loose at Fleay’s, they don’t have their own cages. This is apparently an ‘attraction’. I saw it as they were too stingy to buy cages and therefore let the animals roam around together. At most sanctuaries you get specially made animal food to feed to the kangaroos and such. At Fleay’s they had home brand Fruit Loops mixed with handfuls of sawdust. This created an atmosphere of oppression, not dissimilar to that found at 3am in a suburban nightclub, mainly caused by the severely cranky and possibly diabetic marsupials. Being 9 years old and angry that I wasn’t at the tourist attraction of my choice I took my frustrations out on a small, and seemingly innocuous, wallaby. As it scrabbled around in the bag of food I was holding, most likely searching for something edible that wasn’t Fruit Loop flavoured sawdust, it nipped my hand. I took out my frustrations by kicking it squarely in the chest. I immediately regretted my actions not only due to the sight of a poor half-starved wallaby soaring across the enclosure like the first kick in the AFL Grand Final, but also because a nearby emu saw that I was distracted and decided to help itself to an unguarded bag of fruit loops. The ensuing scuffle and subsequent flurry of vicious emu pecks saw me hurtling across the meadow screaming like a banshee, sans shorts, with a large flightless bird in full chase. I learned two things that sunny afternoon. Never take out your frustrations on something with big soppy mammal eyes and emus see people wearing bright blue shorts as a threat to their territory.

In conclusion, Steve, it is wrong to hit things, especially women. I get the distinct feeling we’ll need to schedule some extra sessions sometime soon. In the meantime, I suggest trying meditation or even a yoga class. Try not to get angry at the yoga instructor. He wears those pants for a reason. Hippy chicks love them. Also, perhaps try a course of hardcore anti-depressants. This is a perfectly acceptable alternative to any sort of psychological treatment mainly because it absolves the prescribing doctor of any sort of responsibility should you lose the plot and “take some fuckers down with you”. I wish you well.

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex





Sexy Animals. Right or Wrong? Dr. Panaflex Advises.

17 03 2010

Hi Dr Lazlo.

First time reader, first time poster.

I read your advice column with some interest, but must admit to a little disappointment as at no time did you touch upon any animal related fantasies. For instance I have been assured that my habit of lightly stroking my perineal region with a kangaroo scrotum coin purse I purchased in Surfers Paradise on holiday in 1998 as I choke the life out of my man bits until they bulge purple is a quite normal and acceptable practice.

The librarian at Carindale shopping centre told me this when I quizzed her at length about my gooch related native mammal practices and judging by the fact that she had glasses and a small mole on her upper lip with two hairs in it I naturally assumed she was an authority on such things.

Could you please elucidate on why this day to day activity was left out of your piece of advice? I would hate to think that there are other readers out there such as myself (and I’m sure there are) who may be concerned that they are “doing it wrong” so to speak.

Yours sincerely,

Concerned Macropod Fancier.

Well hello there. Welcome to my blog.

Thank you for taking the time out of your very busy day to write a comment. I’m not sure what your day entails but going on your comment I am assuming you spend a fair bit of time collecting interesting skin samples and/or reading copies of National Geographic magazines from the early 1970’s. I used to love spending hour upon hour perusing the numerous copies of National Geographic that I found in my grandmother’s ‘library’. I say ‘library’ but it was basically a musty room full of piles and piles of magazines and books that smelt a bit like the tomb of an undiscovered mummy. I once spent several months diligently cataloguing her collection of magazines into my own kind of ‘Dewey Decimal System’, although my system was based on content categories rather than a sequential series of numbers and useful letters. Magazines were categorised based on the following content:

  1. Number of articles containing sharks and/or lions
  2. Pictures of war time atrocities.
  3. Issues covering Jane Goodall
  4. Nipple Content.

Needless to say, many a fun hour was spent in that dusty old room. Fun times indeed. Anyway, let’s get on with your question, Concerned Macropod Fancier. Do you mind if I call you Gavin? I think this will make it a bit easier for us to communicate? Now Gavin, I certainly don’t think there is anything wrong with fantasising, in a sexual way, about animals. This is perfectly normal behaviour, especially for a young man. What isn’t perfectly normal is when you start to act on this fantasy. This is known as bestiality or “the forbidden love” and has been frowned on in most civilised societies for quite a while now (feel free to insert a witty joke about New Zealand and/or Wales here).

You also most certainly aren’t alone either, so don’t beat yourself up about it (unless that is another of your favourite fantasies). I once had a patient who had a bit of a thing for crustaceans. He had a serious fetish for crabs, lobsters and the like. So much so that one day he decided to take it to the next level and was mortified when his wife and children walked in on him rigorously fisting himself as he writhed naked on a blow up mattress covered entirely by small hermit crabs and a rather large amount of industrial strength lubricant. Needless to say that therapy sessions were required for both him and his wife and the outcome has them both living happily together. He has an hour a week set aside as his ‘special time’ and she now calls when she’s on her way home. Of course his children had to be sent away to foster families but sometimes we all need to make sacrifices, don’t we Gavin?

So, in summary I certainly see nothing wrong about fantasising about completely obscure sexual desires as long as you don’t make the jump to full-on rampaging weirdo. In saying that, I think rubbing yourself on the perineum with a small yet silky smooth kangaroo scrotum is about as far as you should go with this, don’t you? If you take this any further you’ll find yourself in possibly perilous situation involving hardcore frottage with an aggressive, fully grown Eastern Grey kangaroo and we all know that this will lead to trouble for all parties involved. Might I suggest buying a full, figure hugging body suit made of kangaroo skin? Or even asking your hairy-mole librarian friend to join you in some native mammalian role-play? That could be the answer. Remember, always ‘ask’ not ‘force’ when it comes to this sort of thing. I really don’t think I can stress this enough.

I really do hope this helps you out and I certainly would love to hear from you in the future. Let me know how things work out. Now excuse me, I need to go and buy some hermit crabs from the local pet store. And some lubricant. Good luck, Gavin.

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex





Lustful Fantasising and its Consequences

16 03 2010

Hi Dr. Lazlo,

I have a question I want to ask.

This is a completely hypothetical scenario. Say you are dating/married/committed to a woman and you see yourself as a loyal chap, would you consider it morally wrong to spank the salami with visualisations of a different girl? I suppose you could keep it as your “little secret” but what I am wondering is if it would be a moral dilemma that you have dealt with in the past?

Kicks.

Well hello Kicks.

How’s your day been? Mine has been sort of okay however I am having an ‘issue’ with Gavin from Accounts. I won’t go into it in detail here other than to say I’ve been doing a bit of research into how deep a shallow grave has to be in order for it to be effective. The answer is: surprisingly deep. Sticks and twigs just don’t do the trick.

Now onto your question which is one that afflicts most men and, most certainly, plenty of women as well and that is: Is it morally wrong to think of a person other than your partner when ‘spanking the monkey’ or ‘diddling the doodle’? And the answer to this question is: Only if your partner finds out. Simple.

I think my loving partner would be horrified to know that on the rare occasions that I flog my sausage that I am usually thinking of Ricky Ponting’s fine century versus India at the MCG a few years ago. Sometimes I change grips and pretend I am Ricky smashing one through extra cover. For the money stroke I like to imagine Ricky dancing down the pitch and belting cantankerous spin bowler and renowned fuckwad Harbajan Singh over his head. It is up to you whether or not you tell your partner but just be prepared for her answer as well. She may well have a thing for Andrew O’Keefe from Deal or No Deal. And a woman who loves Andrew O’Keefe is a woman who needs serious help.

I know what it is like to be told that your partner thinks of someone else when indulging in some self-pleasure. An ex-girlfriend of mine once confided in me that she fantasised about Richard Wilkins when she gave herself a good fudding. Admittedly I took this rather well but only because I had a wee thing for Kerry-Anne Kennerly at the time. Of course I wanted to stay in a relationship so I didn’t tell her about my lust-interest. Some things should never see the light of day. To make things worse, she took my non-committal answer to her statement to mean I was ‘down with the whole thing’ and she wanted to take things to the next stage. You know where I am going with this, don’t you?

Yes, I had to dress up as Richard Wilkins once or twice a week when she felt randy. Let me tell you, you certainly do feel a bit daft standing at the foot of a bed wearing nothing but a beige jockstrap with a small furry tea cosy as a wig while you pretend to interview vapid celebrities on the red carpet with a 12” black dildo masquerading as a microphone. Needless to say, dressing as a C-Grade celebrity/reporter/ageless tanned zombie certainly got a bit degrading after a while and we went our separate ways. I was okay with this because this left me plenty of time to update and catalogue my Kerry-Anne Kennerly memorabilia. You know what I mean when I say “update” and “catalogue” don’t you? Of course you do.

Take Care

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex





A Fear of Death Has Nothing On a Fear of Moths

23 02 2010

Dear Dr Lazlo,

As a kid I had a very bad fear of death.. I do realise that I had many years to come but I still didn’t want to die of course I still don’t, And I would feel sick and throw up at the near thought of such a thing of course this would happen nearly every night I did grow out of it a few years later but I still do feel sick in the stomach when I think of it sometimes.

Have you ever had such a feeling, or are you a big doctor that isn’t scared of anything?

Ozzy

Hello Ozzy.

Thanks for taking the time to drop me a line. I know that young people these days tend to act like a Labrador puppy with ADHD when it comes to communication. I tried twittering the other day on the computer at the local library but for some reason I couldn’t navigate away from the “Russian Lolita Honeyz” page that kept popping up on my screen. Don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t waltz into a public library, click on a hardcore porn link and ‘get bizzay’ with my junk. Nothing like that. It’s like the six degrees of separation for computers. When you are surfing the net “Russian Lolita Honeyz” is only six clicks of the mouse away from “Haberdashery Supplies for the Homekeeper” especially if you have wandering fingers like I do. It is a serious problem. No wonder Mr Rudd wants to censor the internet. Six clicks of the mouse and you can go from home wares to home whores. Of course it is only one click on my computer because I have that link in my favourites but I digress.

Let’s get onto your question, shall we? Death. You’re terrified of death. This is a common fear and one that is usually hard to overcome, especially as you grow older. Some wise man once said “nothing in life is certain except death and taxes”. Of course this is blatantly wrong as you can conveniently avoid paying any kind of tax by setting up offshore accounts and becoming a citizen of lovely places like Bermuda and/or the Cayman Islands. But yes, death will come to all of us at one stage or another and for some it will come sooner rather than later. I shall address how you deal with this inevitability later on.

You asked if I have ever had such a feeling. Of course I have, I am a mortal human being (for now) like the rest of you. My fear is nothing as common as death. Oh no. I have two major fears in life. They are as follows:

a)      Moths; and

b)      People called Nigel.

Both of these things cause me to shriek in fear or become rigidly paralysed. I don’t like Nigel’s after being repeatedly taunted in Grade 10 about my ‘Flock of Seagulls’ hairstyle by a boy of the same name. The resulting humiliation made me draw “OUTCAST” and “PENIS” on my arms with a black pen and pull out my hair in huge bloody clumps. I was a fragile flower of a boy when I was a teenager.

My fear of moths is a little more rational. I can’t stand these flying winged spawns of Satan with their dusty rustling wings and ability to fly right into my eye while I cower in terror. Did you know that the ‘dust’ they leave behind is actually small scales from their wings? They are like the spotty eczema-ridden leper of the insect world. I once woke up in the middle of the night feeling a presence in the room. At first I thought I was being visited by the ghost of my long dead but clinically insane grandmother but it turns out the presence was actually a large Bogong moth that had perched upon my face obviously waiting for me to open my mouth so it could climb into my throat and kill me with it’s dustiness. Needless to say, much screaming occurred and it was weeks before I could sleep without covering myself in a large tarpaulin.

Moths and wankers called Nigel aside, your fear is very real. However should you let this fear control your life then you’ll become a recluse. A shut in who spends the day measuring their blood pressure and wondering if every sneeze means a case of Avian Flu. Just like my Auntie Joan. You don’t want to turn into my Auntie Joan, do you? I suggest putting this fear to the back of your mind and enjoying the time you have left. Go out and party with your friends. Paint lovely murals. Do silly things with gherkins. The only time you should let that fear of death out is when you have a child or when you are careening around the corner in a stolen VN Commodore at 115k/hr while your mate cranes his neck over his shoulder and drunkenly says “Have we lost the cops?”

I hope this helps. Now please excuse me. I just saw a moth fly past the window. I need to make sure all the windows and doors are shut and that my considerable supply of insect-killing spray is at hand. I also need to take my blood pressure and wipe my nose. I have a cold. I think.

Yours truly,

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex

PS: Please see the picture below for the rationalisation of my fear. I saw one just like this the other day flying around my house. I am currently trying to buy a bunch of Surface to Air missiles on eBay.

See this moth? He's waiting for you to sleep so he can crawl in your moth and kill you.





Marital Advice? Sure why not…

19 02 2010

Dear Lazlo, 

I have a problem of a slightly personal nature, that maybe you could shed some of that all-knowing light on.

I’ve got a woman friend in my life, and have had for about 7 or so years now. She’s a good woman, I could do a hell of a lot worse. A ways back though, we separated for about 6 months, moved apart (we were living together), but eventually found ourselves back together, and all’s well with the world.

Or so it would seem.

Lately, I’ve noticed that she’s dropping hints about Marriage more and more, sometimes stopping just short of outright asking me, for which I am grateful. As in all honesty, I have found that I enjoying living by myself quite a damn lot. No mess, lots of space, Lots of time to draw, I’m sure you can understand what I mean….

Also, good woman that she is, She can be a right nut bag sometimes. Now, that’s normal for about 95% of the woman I’ve ever met, but now that this “marriage” thing has reared its head, I find myself projecting far into the future with every outburst. The slightest annoyance seems to hold the promise of an eternity of grief.

That being said, I’m not against the idea either, but something is scaring the living shit out of me about embarking on such serious adult business.

Any advice for a man in my situation?

Scott

Hello Scott.

This certainly is a serious situation to be in and you certainly aren’t the only guy out there with cold feet when it comes to long term commitment. There is a theory that men don’t want long term commitment because there is some cave man instinct in us that forces us to sow our seeds in every available woman. Likewise they say women want a long term relationship because they crave stability. This train of thought is both correct and incorrect. Some women love ‘playing the field’ and plenty of guys go silly over women and get infatuated which leads them to stalk girls and sometimes break into their house to sniff their dirty underwear and sometimes ejaculate on their pillows.

I’ve been in a similar situation as you before. I lived on my own for a number of years and I loved it…for a while. I was my own boss, could do what I wanted and quite often never wore clothes when I was home much to the chagrin of my next door neighbours. But there was something missing. I needed that relationship. I mean I didn’t need anyone to cook for me because I could reheat my own frozen dinners and buy my own clothes (who needs washing when you have a credit card). Having a woman in my life seemed to centre everything and I dare say, made me settle down. Not in a bad way. Had I continued my existence I’d most likely be a rotting corpse poorly covered by leaves in Toohey Forest due to unpaid drug debts to overzealous Russian gangsters.

Now you need to ask yourself a question. Do you truly love this woman? Scary and serious question isn’t it?. If, at any stage you look at her and go “hmmm nah” then don’t kid yourself that you have an awesome relationship. Marriage is a scary proposition and spending the rest of your life with someone is truly terrifying. I actually skipped the whole marriage first thing when I inseminated my partner during a gin and wine induced lustful haze of a night. We actually talked about marriage beforehand and said “who needs a certificate! Pfft” but now we have a mini-Panaflex running around it makes sense to get married for certain monetary reasons.
You are also very correct in saying that 95% of women are nut bags. Actually it has been scientifically proven (outlined in a forthcoming book called “Women: How to Live With Them, How to Dig a Shallow Grave” by yours truly. Released September ‘10) that every single woman possesses the ‘nut bag’ gene which turns them from mild mannered doe-eyed lasses to raging vicious psychopaths in milliseconds. There is no denying this outright fact. When you live with a woman, regardless of how lovely she is, there will be at least one “Sweet Jesus! I need to get the fuck away from this wailing Medusa” moment in your relationship. If you continuously think of your beloved as a soul-wrenching psychic vampire then I suggest finding another lady or consigning yourself to a life of bachelorhood.

What I would suggest you do is think carefully about your relationship and if you want to take it to the next step, then work out some ground rules. You and I are similar in that we need Our Own Time. You like to draw and I like to visit gay nightclubs where I pole dance in sexy drag under the psuedonym “Lolita Pillowsex”. It’s our way of escaping the mundane life of work and also provides us with a release. If your partner baulks at this idea then, well, words need to be said. Everyone needs a creative outlet, be it drawing or stand up comedy or ejaculating on pillows. A woman who refuses to give her partner this isn’t worth the time of day. I’m sure your lovely lady has a good head on her shoulders, after all she’s with you, so I’m certain she’ll understand.

Just don’t tell her about the ‘nut bag gene’ and/or my forthcoming book. I like my genitals where they are, thanks.

Much Love

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex





Saying the Wrong Thing and How to Dig Up.

19 02 2010

Dear Dr Lazlo,

Hi, first time caller long time listener…

Ever since a young age, I seem to enjoy getting in awkward conversations. It usually involves saying something to someone to make them feel awkward or tetchy, causing a sometimes unpleasant reaction. Sometimes they think my odd humour is funny, which i also like more. It has caused me issues at work and meeting girlfriends’ parents and such.

For example, last night I was sitting in front of the open fire with my lovely lady and she commented about how she liked my smell, which was nice and also confusing. I told her I liked her smell (which I do) and that it was like horses and celery (which it is not). She didn’t find it funny and seems to be quite concerned about my false statement. I told her it was not true and tried to put her mind at ease but she is still quite disturbed.

What do i need to do?

Josh

Hey there Josh.

I hope this response finds you in good health. I myself am feeling very perky after a session at the gym (high level cardio plus some high intensity perving) and a double shot flat white. I also stole a donut from the meeting room while the meeting attendees were having a short break. The sugary hit combined with the rush of stealing something has me feeling very chipper. But this has nothing to do with your problem, so let’s get stuck into it.

You enjoy awkward moments in conversations, do you? I go through phases like this every month or so. Sometimes I just crave that initial awkward intake of breath and the slow exhale while looking around the room when someone has just said something inappropriate like “Hey do you guys have weird bumps on the shaft of your penis?” How you deal with this awkwardness says a lot about a person’s character. I have a variety of approaches but my personal favourite is this technique. The minute I realise that the witty jibe I just uttered was a tad on the offensive side, I stare really intently and grin widely. Really intently. And we aren’t talking a cheeky grin here like a naughty school boy. We’re talking grin so hard that your head feels like it will split in two. Imagine the kind of grin Ivan Milat got while driving along a road and seeing a backpacker hitch-hiking. Well, that kind of grin with added creepiness multiplied by seven. That’s what we are talking about.  Sometimes I’ll even throw in a nervous giggle too like ”hehehehehehehehehehehe”. You could even snort a bit when you do it. I know I certainly do. A well timed laugh-snort can really ease the tension in the room. One half of my office thinks I am a likeable person while the others seem to think I am clinically insane. It makes for a very enjoyable day.

Now, onto your issue with your lovely lady. What is her name? For the purposes of this response I shall call her “Yolanda”. Now does Yolanda have a good sense of humour? Does she routinely laugh at your witty jibes and observations like a good woman should? I sure hope so. Her anger at you is not uncommon from a woman, especially one seeking a compliment. You see, Yolanda telling you that she likes your smell was actually a loaded statement in that she was seeking confirmation that she smells pretty fucking terrific. You, being a fun filled man ready for some shenanigans, didn’t see this and fell into the trap so many me have done before. You said The Wrong Thing. This is a bad thing to do. Once, my ex-wife (Fatima Panaflex), asked me if her arse looked a bit big in a tight ball gown while I was watching the afternoon snooker match on the ABC. With a barely perceptible glance away from the television machine, I replied “Certainly not, my dear. When you walk in that dress it looks like two kids fighting under a blanket”. A nice cute comment, isn’t it? Harmless and witty? Yes it is. I probably should have left it at that. I certainly shouldn’t have run with this idea and followed my initial comment up with “Yeah two kids. Two really fat kids and one of them has severe flatulence”.

This is known as Taking It A Bit Too Far and this is what you’ve done. You need to grovel and apologise for making her confused and sad. You can try and weasel out of it by suggesting that horses and celery actually smell quite good but I would suggest buying some flowers, running her a nice hot bath and buying her dinner. Alternatively, you can tell her you were hit on the back of the head by an errant basketball as a teenager and as such your olfactory nerve was severed and you haven’t been able to smell properly since. Personally, I’d go with the lie because it opens up a whole new world of potential awkward moments that I know you’d love.

Yours truly,

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex





Addicted to Computer Games? A Solution Awaits…

19 02 2010

Dear Dr. Lazlo,

For the past 3 months I have been seriously addicted to an online video game. I am unsure why as the game isn’t really fun and everyone on it is a whiny bitch.

But I recently lost my job due along with 4 other casual full timers due to budget cuts and have had nothing better to do with my life then play this game, this mmorpg as the kids call it. It’s proving difficult to get in to a new career especially with the current crisis we have with jobs and the fact that I live in Adelaide.

What should I do? Should I delete my account on this game and quit cold turkey, should I play a little in moderation while seriously looking for a career or should I just say “Fuck it!” and move to Quebec?

I haven’t gone out properly in ages and if I do it’s usually just round the corner to the skate park or one of the 40 pubs surrounding my house.

Sexually yours,

Troy McNulty.

Hello Troy.

I’ll answer your question today because I am getting inundated of late and my assistant, Phuc Nguyen, is away on annual leave. Plus your issue is a tad more important than the other problems, so let’s get stuck in shall we?

Ah video games. I know your vice well, my friend. I too have been clamped tight by it’s sweaty, burger ring smelling grip for many a year. It started out when I first played a friend’s Atari. I played “Pitfall” and also “Combat” and pretty much fell in love straight away. I didn’t really like my friend, he was more of a ‘hanger-on’ type of character but each day I would make an excuse to go over to his house. “Oh, you dropped your pencil at school. I brought it home for you. Can I come in and play Atari?” I’d say. I pretended to be this kids friend for nearly 6 months until the fact that he smelt like curdled milk deterred me from coming over.

In the end, I begged my parents to get me a video game console and they reluctantly agreed. Sure enough under the Xmas tree was a shiny new video game. I ripped open the paper and had to hide my disappointment as the Atari I was expecting was actually a Hanimex HMG-7900. The HMG-7900 only came with a few games and my parents got me the “Sports Compendium” which, at first glance, looked pretty ace.

Actually it turned out that every game on it was a variation on Pong and I was bored out of my mind within 3 minutes. Since that fateful 1983 Xmas Day I have been obsessed with games and even now, at age 35 and with a family, I still find time to play on my PS3 where I hunt people like Furtanken down and shoot him in the face on a regular basis. In saying that, it isn’t a huge obsession anymore. I have it under control.

And that is what you need to do. Computer games can be fun but then one day you rub your eyes, look outside and suddenly realise that the lovely April afternoon you started playing is now a windy September morning. I’ve been there before (curse you Age of Empires II). You need to put the mouse down and get outside. I certainly don’t condone going cold turkey as this will only lead you to another habit forming activity like selling meth to kids or watching Oprah. What you need to do is set aside a certain amount of time a day to play your game and stick to it. I think I know the game you are playing and it can really suck you in. Perhaps find another game. One with an ending so once you finish it you can do something else. The game you are playing can really drag on and before you know it you’ll be a fat, 40 year old bearded monster half glued to your chair and smelling like sour sweat and hot shame.

Get more involved in skating or even take up a team sport. I find that sweaty japes with other likeminded men to be the perfect tonic for clearing my head and getting me focussed. Also try and meet some women. Preferably not online. This will also help. The power of the vagina is vastly underrated, my friend.

Oh and getting a job could prove useful in the future. Perhaps we can address this at a later date? And get the fuck out of Adelaide. That should have been my first piece of advice.

Faithfully yours,

Dr. Lazlo Panaflex