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Is Two Up the greatest game ever invented?

Maybe it’s because I'm Victorian. Maybe it’s because I've lived in Melbourne? Maybe it’s because I have an Xbox? Maybe I'm just un-Australian? Or maybe I've just been deprived of the greatest game ever invented?

Two Up.

But let me just backtrack a little. I've always been entertained by simple things. I mean as a child I used to dress up as Monkey Magic and dance... I mean fight around the house waving a stick painted black with some gold on it and tinfoil wrapped around my head. That wouldn't affect memory loss would it? Foil to the head. What irresponsible parents I had.

Then for one year straight back in 2009 I played corridor soccer ever day.

I don't want to pretend that I was the Christiano Ronaldo of this sport. But I'd be lying if i didn't tell you that I won the Corridor World Cup that year. This was a game that drove many of girls I lived with wild. I was living with 9 people and the 3 other boys and I had somehow innocently created a game from nothing. We had a 8 bedroom house with a massive corridor running up the middle of it. You can see where this is going can't you?

One day I magically Bent it Like Beckham down the corridor and Edourard pipped up and challenged me with "bet you can't do that again."

Challenge accepted. Game invented.

All you had to do was kick the ball as hard as you could down the corridor and get it past the person at the other end without it bouncing more than once or hitting the walls on the side. It's very complex and in reality you need to read the entire rule book I wrote on the game to fully comprehend the intricate nature of the game. But this kept us all entertained for hours on end. Obviously, we did end up breaking the walls numerous times and got very good at plastering by the end of this.

Poor Heather had the unfortunate room where the ball would get trapped on the wall and bounce directly into her bedroom or smash her door open. Thankfully she was only studying to be a primary school teacher so she only ever made cupcakes and papermashe. Wow. He went there. No no no to be fair I wanted to be a school teacher at one point too, until I realized I just can not control and discipline children in the slightest. Or make sock puppets.

OK that was a huge off track rant. I guess you learned that I'm entertained by simple things.

Anyway since I've arrived in Karratha I've been told of this mythical game that happens on Anzac Day, Australia Day and at the country Races.

Two Up. The legend of it has been built up to mythical proportions. People waving $500 around screaming at each other over a coin flip. War's being decided on a head or tail. House's and horses lost on a tail. Marriages broken by head. Oh come on now get your minds out of the gutter. Flipping Hell. OK bad puns aside I've been waiting to see this game of champions for the last two months.

The Karratha Bowls Club invited us to their Casino Night on Saturday and it was basically like Ocean's Eleven. Aimee, Rob, Jess and myself decided to throw our money away and then attempt to steal it back at a later date. We haven't decided who's Brad yet. Pretty sure I'm a clear favourite.

But then half an hour in. There it was. The ring of death. The white rope was draped over the lawn grass like a seductive temptress to my heart.

The crowd slowly gathered. This would have seemed more glamorous if we hadn't of had to remove our shoes to step out onto the turf. There's just no way you can gracefully remove shoes and then socks at a bowl 's club. Believe me I tried.
 
Lack of grace aside, I was in heaven. Even if Kate Upton or Kim Kardashian had of been there flirting outrageously with me I would have ignored them for this hypnotic game of flipping a coin.

Basically the game revolves around a plank of wood and two coins. I know I know, what’s not to like?

You then flip the coins up high in the air and they must both land inside the rope circle. Sounds complex I know. If they are tails and you've bet tails you win. I think you get the point. But if it’s a head and tails its a re-do.

That’s all exciting. But it’s the actually betting part which is the most fun. To bet you have to find someone who wants to bet directly against you. So you yell out "$200 on heads $200 on heads" at the crowd. Until someone says "OK $200 tails." Whoever is betting tails holds onto the money. Which is the most important thing because as soon as the coins go up in the air you think "what did I bet again?"

They say kids these days can't stay entertained. Well I’m from Gen Y. I think? And I haven't had that much fun since I was playing war in primary school running around with a plank of wood pretending it was a gun rescuing  my primary school sweetheart from the enemies tree house.

Fine that never happened.

Worlds Greatest Shave

Worlds Greatest Shave

We raised well over $2,000 for WGS this year.

Danny Green and Massive Men

Danny Green and Massive Men

I'm not going to lie. I've always wanted to be massive. I don't mean Biggest Loser Massive. I mean Ron-Ron or Situation massive. Ripped. Shredded. A guy that when I walk in the door people go "damn don't mess with that kid."

Genetics aside. My laziness meant that I am clearly not the next Heavy Weight Boxing champion. This obsession about becoming massive ( I say obsession, I rarely do anything towards achieving this goal except think about it and occasionally stopping myself have two helpings of desert) started in 2009.

I was living in a house with 9 internationals and 1 particularly tiny Japanese guy Hijiri. Hijiri was so small that we permanently nicknamed him "Tiny." Australian's are so polite. There was also Edouard, a Frenchman who looked the part. His ever present 5 o'clock shadow and French accent  of zzzz drove me crazy over the next few years. Partly due to the fact that I can not for the life of me grow a beard. Jonas made up the big 4. Jonas is a gymnast from Sweden and was clearly the most "massive" out of the 4 of us.  I'd never admit this to his face though.

One crazy night out we decided after many arm wrestles and bragging about who was the strongest we decided to put it to the test at the gym the next week. We'd previously been so competitive that after our Christmas in July celebration with full stomachs we had had 100m races out on the street and arm wrestles between the chicken , turkey and Christmas pudding on the kitchen tables. Yes, fair to say the girls were impressed at our antics. But eventually we decide to "man up." We agreed that we would join the local gym and start a work out program.

Going to the gym in a group of 4 mates couldn’t be less productive. We literally would get there jog for 10 min or so. Attempt to out lift each other for a set or two and then just start talking and gossiping about the girls in the house. That was our massive workout. No wonder none of us became massive.

I say no one did. But in reality I got so massive and strong that former World Boxing Champion Danny Green decided to come to Karratha and meet me. This is true. or rather he came here to promote green energy. Either way I’m pretty sure he was impressed with my guns.

Our fight is not officially scheduled but i can see it being a pay-per-view ratings hit.

Thanks so much to Danny Green who visited and was a huge laugh. Even admitting that his first crush at age 5 crushed him in primary school. Good to know that even world champion boxers can get crushed from their school crushes. he also had his chance to meet two Spirit 1260  listeners who got married because Danny beat Roy Jones Jnr. Her now husband had made a bet that if Roy Jones Jnr lost to Danny Green he'd propose.

Danny won and now they are married. Danny admitted he's slightly annoyed he never got some Christmas cake. But to be fair he owes them about $20,000 for the wedding.

Swings and roundabouts.

Listen to the interview here: www.spiritradio.com.au/karratha/breakfast/best-bits

Until next time. Stay massive.

Why I Cant Cook

I've always liked the show Hell's Kitchen. But that doesn’t mean I can cook. Actually the polar opposite to be honest. Just last week I nearly burnt down my house. Take that statement in and digest it a little.

I nearly burnt down my house.

I've just casually dropped that little information into the daily blog. Thought you should know. No one ever told me that you can’t leave a fry pan with oil alone in the kitchen. I thought it wanted its privacy while it heated up. I thought I’d do the mature thing and leave it heat up in private as I went and read Zoo mag. I mean Wall Street Journal.

With the fry pan heating alone in the kitchen I sat down in the lounge room and started reading Zoo magazine. Fair to say I got a little too involved in an article while the frying pan burst into flames and filled the house with black smoke. At some point while reading the last pages of Zoo mag I realized my house was about to go up in flames.

So it’s fair to say that I've never been a good cook. To put it mildly.

I once had a dinner party with just a supermarket BBQ chicken with nothing else. Well, ketchup but I don’t think you can really claim that as a side dish. Problem was one of the guests was vegetarian. I never did get the return invite for a dinner party at theirs. But chicken dinner parties for vegetarians aside. I'm just an awful cook.

SO. The question is:  Who's to blame for this?

Is it the uprising of cooking shows that dominate the prime time TV slots? The only thing I’ve learned from Hell's Kitchen is how to yell at people better. Is it my mother? I know everyone always says that their mother is the greatest cook in the world. Mine is though. Fact.

Or is it the endless amount of people who've cooked for me over the years?

Until this point in my lift I’ve always had someone cook for me. I've suddenly been thrown into a single bedroom flat without a cook. While I nearly did burn down the flat, I wasn't even attempting to cook anything fancy. A steak sandwich. Imagine that’s the reason I destroyed the house. A Steak sandwich. Who knows what will happen if I attempt to deep fry some chicken.There are a few reasons why I think it’s fair to blame the people from my past on my poor cooking.

Firstly I was never given a chance to learn. I moved out of home and for the first two years out of home my diet consisted of pizza and pizza really. Frozen pizza at that. This could
be the reason you can’t see my 6 pack to be honest. It’s hidden by a pizza. Then I moved into college where thankfully a girl known as Buggs (who eventually convinced me to choose radio as a career) took pity on me and started cooking. I like to pretend that at points during the 3 years we lived together as housemates that I helped cook. However, my main duties were washing the dishes and occasionally cooking sausages. Which, I find possibly the hardest thing to cook right. It’s been known to take up to half an hour for me to cook snags right. I just can’t seem to do it. Anyway getting off track. Buggs cooked amazing meals for about 3 years until I moved into a new house of 9 people from all over the world.

It was literally a house formed by the UN. We had Germans, Sweeds, French, Japanese and Australian’s all together. We created the Sunday Night Dinenr tradition with each country taking turns to cook a traditional meal for each other. We had nights of Sushi, Frankworsts, Ratatouille, Gratan, Pavlova, Pancakes (Sorry Pauline, Creeps) and Sauerkraut. I attempted to cook Chicken Parma's. Even Edouard the Frenchman in the house who would finish every meal ever presented to him and then ask for seconds, barely touched his. This hurt and further forced me to refer to the Microwave to save my nighttime dilemma of "what to cook" each night.

Thankfully Franka (a German girl) took pity on me and most likely saved me from catching scurvy that year and exchanged cooking with German lessons. With awful results. "Gutten tag mein hase" is about all I remember from all those lessons and also after living in Germany for 6 months. While we didn’t eat the most complicated meals. A heavy dosage of couscous and fruit salads it was good having someone take pity on me and cook away.

That house had nicknamed me Micro for my over reliance on microwaves. After Franka left back to Germany another girl picked up in the kitchen and kept me alive. Nicknamed "Boss" she kept me full for the last 6 months of living in Australia until I departed for my 2 years overseas wondering from French vineyards to leather shops in Africa to seeing Spain capture the World Cup inside a Colosseum to snowboarding the French Alps to relaxing on Greek Islands before finally coming home. I barely had enough times to wash my clothes let alone learn to cook and now I've moved to Karratha.

Now you’re up to date. A year in France and amongst French cuisine didn't even rub off on me. To my credit I can cook the best Tartiflete (French Alps meal consisting of potato, bacon and cheese - otherwise known as the most unhealthy meal on the planet) hands down and my Minestrone soup is to die for. This is thanks to my previous boss and chef Lisa in the French Alps who instructed me step by step how to make some authentic French mountain food.



Pablo is now taking applications for an in-house chef. Apply within.

The Meal that nearly destroyed the house:

Wes Carr

Wes Car Aussie Idol Winner visited Karratha on Friday 24th for the opening of the Youth Shed.

I used to consider myself a little bit of a gangsta and could be world-headline-touring-rockstar back in my year 7 Eminem obsessed days. Lip syncing away and doing pretend performances in the lounge room when ever I was alone. Imagining I was on stage with millions of people singing along to me as I "Hi my name is slim shaddy'd" away. I sold out venues where ever I toured. Screaming fans lined the hotel rooms as the paparazzi barely gave me enough room to make it from my limo (push bike) into my hotel (kitchen door).

Alas I never did become a rock star. Obviously.

One of my most shameful moments in life was agreeing to lip sync and dance away at school assembly to Bomfunk MC's: "Freestyler." You know then one, with that incredibly complex chorus of "rock the microphone...dadadad freestyler."

Thankfully, this performance never made it onto the stage of high school assembly and I finished high school un-bashed or ridiculed for years on end.  Much to the disappointment of Hamish, my high school best friend, who thought our dance routine was worthy of a 4 min dance in front of 800 people. When your a kid you just don't realize what you are doing. Never, Ever, EVER in a million years would I agree to do something like that now.

Lip Sync along to a pop song. 15 years ago...seemed like a swell idea.

My high school band. I say band in the loosest meaning of the word. Consisted of Hamish on drums, Tim on bass, Darcy singing and guitar and me...actually I'm not even sure if I was in this band. I studied classical piano for 6 years but was totally against that by the time I reached high school thinking it was way toooo uncool for this band. I say band. We never played together. Well I didn't. The others may have been practicing behind my back all those nights in Year 8.

Darcy ditched us (definitely the right move) and is now playing in a Melbourne band "My Echo." Tim went onto play a little more throughout high school and in university while Hamish and I thankfully stopped any attempt at making music. Letting our parents and neighbors unblock their ears and sleep peacefully for the next decade. Well until we turned 16 and morphed into zombie-crazed teenage boys.

So with old high school memories floating in my head I headed down to meet Wes and to take some pics and pretend that I could play guitar.

Guess I should just leave it to the experts:

If you'd like to hear the INTERVIEW with Wes then head to:

www.spiritradio.com.au/karratha/breakfast/best-bits

Our BEST BITS page here and listen away to hear which celebrity Wes Car most wants to sleep with and what he really wanted to be when he was a little kid...

The Team Bio's

It's Pablo here introducing the Spirit Team 6am-10am Weekdays

Jude
Jude's our official "boss" and Spirit 1260 Karratha's Station Manager. Obviously I'll only write nice things about her....if only I could spill the truth.