Thursday, February 21, 2008

The Annual Christmas Slurpee Toss 2007.

"In this world nothing can be said to be certain,
except death and taxes."
When Benjamin Franklin compiled his little list of life's certainties, there was one glaring omission:

Bart.

Born as Bart was some 186 years after the fact, this is to a large extent understandable, and his inclusion would not only have robbed the proverb of its universality, but likely caused considerable confusion amongst Franklin's contemporaries. "Who is this Bart?" they might have been heard to ask one another over a pint of McTavish down the local tavern, "And what exactly is it about him that's so certain?" Well, let's cut to the chase and confirm what they might not have known but what we certainly did: Bart won again and remains the undefeated Toss King and Holder of the Soggy Biscuit.


Was there ever any doubt? Well, if you can believe a recently uncovered piece of pre-Toss correspondence to fellow tosser Post, Bart would like you to think there was:
"You've definitely been closing the gap in the slurpee toss - and I believe your technique is improving. I certainly have history on my side but you are a growing force in these events...plus you have dad strength. I'd have us as even priced favourites."
But of course you only need scratch the surface of this uncharacteristic magnanimity to discover the ruse that lies beneath. Bart, as adept at games of the mind as games of the muscle, knows that his unexpected flattery will inspire overconfidence and come Toss Time his deluded and ill-prepared opponents will be easily swept aside with a flick of his judgmental arm.

You wonder why he bothers. The only time he failed to win the title was 2004 when he was in another country. And while the prancing champion would no doubt have struggled to overcome a handicap that saw him 15,395kms behind the tossing line, you write Bart off at your peril.

And it's exactly this lack of tension that has in recent years seen the real interest shift to what the Anderson St Press has dubbed The Toss for First Loser, which they describe as "a fiercely fought battle of peers with an outcome as uncertain as the other is sure." And in recognition of this secondary struggle, now, in 2007, a new title has been established and enthroned in the Royal Pantheon of Slurpee Tossing:

The Jack!

Yes, the Jack may not be the King, but it's still Toss Royalty, and for the crumb-grabbers under the King's table, it's the only hope they've got. So let's get Tossing!

An unprecedented nine tossers turned up to hurl frozen sugary ice across one or possibly two netball courts, and the chill in the air was palpable.

First to the line was Ahab who stepped up with a mad gleam in his eyes and tossed a thumper onto the far side of the court, landing just shy of the gutter and setting a high mark for those to follow.


After a promising debut in last year's Toss, Bomber turned up ready to deliver a performance that at the end of the day would be a credit to the boys. And with a sweep of his arm he sailed his plastic cup into the air, but it failed to cross the court and crashed down several metres short of Ahab's.


Decked out in his Auction Day Best, Agent Cobbies brought a touch of class to this year's Toss, but must have left his brute force in his jeans at home because his toss — though smooth and graceful — arced down onto the court a metre or so behind that of Bomber.


Following Cobbies came this year's debutante tosser, JJ Glamma, who turned up to the Pitch with not one but two Slurpee Cups. When questioned by the assembled media he explained that he liked to have his Slurpee and drink it too, and as such he brought a spare for some post-Toss thirst-quenching. Such foresight marks Glamma as a rookie to watch, although, sadly, not this year, as his cup thumped down too far back to have any real impact on the final tally.


Davet turned up to the Toss ready to win, and like a Ruby-crowned Kinglet raising its crown, his red t-shirt was a WARNING sign to his competitors. Eyes ablaze, he thundered down the Pitch and with an arm-wrenching toss he belted his cup up, up and up, over the court and down onto the dirt on the far side, putting him in strong contention for The Jack!


Next to the line was Bambi. Seeking to channel the power of nature, she removed her shoes and connected with the earth spirit that surged beneath her feet. Whirling into action she tossed off a shot that slammed down in the far corner of the goal circle which, although not enough to win, easily surpassed her effort in 2006 and marked a new personal best.


In her second appearance at the Toss, Alethea dared to go where only Ahab had gone before. With a wildly uncontrolled toss, her cup jagged off sideways and landed in the Dead Zone on the wrong side of the top court's fence. Sometimes a pure love for the game just isn't enough to overcome those showtime jitters.


As both 'Master of Demolitions' and 'Keeper of the FNOath', the 2007 Slurpee Toss saw Postman Steve with a chance to hold all three Templetitles at once; a feat as yet unachieved by any man. And for someone like Post who considers being awake as a form of exercise, it would be an achievement all the more extraordinary. Disappointingly though, his plastic cup slammed down just short of the top court's gutter and, like his hopes and dreams, shattered into pieces. Tape measures were rushed to his and Ahab's cups and the officials ruled in favour of Post by the narrowest of margins.


Any pre-Toss questions of newfound humility were answered in the half-man, half-peacock form of Bart, strutting onto the pitch once more to punch his cup up through the stratosphere and down onto the lower court.


The only surprise was his technique. Bart, like most tossers, has traditionally employed the over-arm, grenade-tossing style, but this year he unexpectedly switched to a lateral sweep that delivered his cup to its destination with such efficiency that it had observers drawing favourable comparisons with Jonty Rhodes at his prime. Expect to see this technique adopted more widely next year.

And speaking of next year, see you next year!

The Final Results (official): 1. Bart (Toss King); 2. Davet (The Jack); 3. Post; 4. Ahab; 5. Bomber; 6. Cobbies; 7. Bambi; 8. JJ Glamma; 9. Alethea.


Too much Slurpee blogging barely enough?
Keep on Stolping: The First Pour–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007
Keep on Tossing: Dawn of Time–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006
Keep on Demolishing: The Alpha and the Omega

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The Annual Christmas Stolp 2007.

If the Annual Christmas Stolp seems to be getting earlier every year, that's because it is. The event's increasing popularity meant that a time and date that worked for everyone was as hard to find as a Slurpee machine with all four barrels in working order. And so, to ensure that no one was denied their basic stolping rights, 2007 saw the greatest seismic shift since Christmas stolping began:

Night Stolp!


Well, Dusk Stolp, but let's not get technical. When a suitable Sunday slot couldn't be found, a week-based Night Stolp was suggested and (after much soul-searching and entreatment to the gods) approved. And so, on Tuesday 11th December at 7:30pm, thirteen stolpers, including two dogs, Rosie and Kess, rolled up to the Templestowe Fish Balloon to kick the stolp off with a batter-based fry-up feast, before picking up Slurpees and heading to the Primary for a touch of tossing.

See you in 2008!

Too much Slurpee blogging barely enough?
Keep on Stolping: The First Pour–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006.
Keep on Tossing: Dawn of Time–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006.
Keep on Demolishing: The Alpha and the Omega.

Monday, February 18, 2008

A Very Concise History of the Milk Run.

Bart boasted to us that he could drink 2L of full-cream milk and run a lap around the Templestowe Primary School oval.

Bart was wrong.

Bart drank close to 2L of full-cream milk and ralphed it all back out in a streaming torrent of white.

Bart never boasted of his milk-drinking abilities again.

The End.

UPDATE: Correspondence entered into:
Apostropher: "Actually, didn't you have some girlfriend there who told us all to stop laughing at you? Ha, ha, ha."
Bart: "yeah sonia - we broke up later that day - it was valentine's day 1995. I drank 2L of milk, spewed and broke up with her - I was a lot cooler back then."

FURTHER READING:
A Concise History of All Things FNO
A Concise History of The Annual Christmas Stolp
A Concise History of The Annual Christmas Slurpee Toss
A Concise History of the Super Slurpee Demolition Competition

Sunday, February 17, 2008

A Concise History of the Super Slurpee Demolition Competition.

Mankind is a restless beast. We hold within us an ever agitating desire to strive, to push further and aim higher, moving ever upwards and beyond. Not content to sit within the boundaries established by those who've gone before, we challenge ourselves to be better... stronger... faster.

And for a small band of boys from Templestowe — an outer north-eastern suburb of Melbourne, famed for its superabundance of hairdressers, tennis courts and dishwashers — this was never more true than when it came to Slurpees.


For them, a Slurpee wasn't merely a many-flavoured ice confection, but rather a gateway to understanding their limitations and uncovering their potential. For while we know that anyone can finish a Slurpee, do we know the fastest time in which it can be done? And if we do, do we know if it's possible to do it even faster...

And lo, the Super Slurpee Demolition Competition was born.

On the first summer scorcher the boys would gather and tread the well-worn path to the Templestowe 7-Eleven. Supersized cups were filled and given time to settle as the group made its way back to the Primary. Once there, straws were drawn across the top of each cup to ensure all were evenly filled, and when all was ready and the competitors stood waiting — steely gaze meeting steely gaze — the word was given, and the Demolition began!


The only rule in a Demolition Competition is to get that bucket of ice down your gullet and into your guts in the shortest time possible. And as such it doesn't take long to hit the first hurdle: sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia, or, in layman's terms, that icy kick to the head known as a Brain Freeze. But as you stand there trembling, eyes squeezed shut, palm of your hand jammed against your forehead, all you can do is grit your brain and push on. For not only is there no other way to the prize, but if you can't withstand a Brain Freeze, you've got no hope of surviving its big brother: the Ice Chest.

Yes, a Brain Freeze is but a mere chilly tickle when compared to the Ice Chest. As sheet upon sheet of ice avalanches through your alimentary canal, you slowly grow aware of frosty fingers running across your ribs, and then the sudden grip of an icy hand constricting your chest, squeezing ever tighter, as your heart goes into spasms desperately trying to keep the blood moving... your body cries out to stop, but like Aussie superhero Kieren Perkins at the 1400m mark, you know you've just got. to. keep. going... onwards and upwards to be all that you can be... [overdub roar of cheering crowd rising to fever pitch / gradual fade to silence / throw in a reverb, maybe?]

The first Super Slurpee Demolition Competition was held in 1993, and saw Bart crowned Master of Demolitions after a narrow win in 6 minutes 35 seconds. The following year Bart won for a second time, shaving 30 seconds of his previous time to win in 6 minutes 5 seconds. A benchmark appeared to have been established, but then in 1995 the world of Slurpee Demolitions was suddenly poured flat when Steve, shovelling ice like a snowplow, demolished his Super Slurpee in a stunning 4 minutes 37 seconds!


It was an extraordinary achievement, but his victory was not without cost. You don't just close the door on an Ice Chest and walk away, and for a full five days afterwards Steve continued to feel the painful effects of his ordeal. I'm no doctor, but that can't be good. And in response, searching questions were asked by all involved: is there knowledge that lies beyond 4:37, and if there is, is it knowledge worth obtaining? Is the possible cost simply too high?

The answer, inevitably, was that it was. And so, like the 'Flying Wedge formation' of American Football — banned from play in 1905 when President Roosevelt intervened after a string of tragic deaths — the Super Slurpee Demolition Competition was abandoned; put up on the shelf and left to stand as a tribute to a more reckless age. Amen.

FURTHER READING:
A Concise History of All Things FNO
A Concise History of The Annual Christmas Stolp
A Concise History of The Annual Christmas Slurpee Toss
A Very Concise History of the Milk Run

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Something every day.

Winter has been able to point out and say 'bird' for a while now, so I thought it was time to move onto advanced bird spotting, and have started using family names, eg, magpie, crow, seagull, etc, instead of just the generic 'bird'. With some degree of success, as well.

But as we were wandering around Fitzroy Gardens the other week I began to notice a very common bird that I couldn't name. "There's a... bird," I pointed out to Winter. "A... brown bird... with bits of white and black. Look at that brown bird with bits of white and black."

My Dad always taught me that every question had an answer, so I contacted Adrian the avian aficionado, a decidedly non-twitching friend of mine who's knowledgeable about such things, and asked him what that bird was.

"Indian myna, most likely" was his reply. "Introduced, and generally considered a noxious pest for their tendency to tip native birds out of their hollows (i.e tipping the babies out and then taking over – imagine if some introduced species came and did that to you!)"

Well, indeed! And so when Winter and I returned to the Gardens this morning we made sure to flick our arms toward any mynas we saw, saying, "Boo mynas! Go away mynas!" and, though we were mostly ignored, I think we got the message home to a few of them, at least. We were careful, of course, not to say "Go away Indians," as we didn't want to be racist. Particularly at the moment given this whole "monkey" tension between Australia and India. The last thing I wanted during a morning stroll in the park was a race riot.

So, there you go: Indian mynas.