Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Hating Haikus

I wrote a satirical haiku and sent it to Alvin. He made no comment. I pressed him for one. 

He replied that he doesn't get haikus and asked, in the smart-arse style he is known for, to write him an 'Alvin'.

He explained that an 'Alvin' was a poem consisting of three words in the first and third lines and four words ending in rhyme for the second and fourth lines. 

So here it is, the world's first Alvin (I'm sure there are other Alvins but this is the first one done intentionally as an Alvin).

Here you go
you lame dumb dick
you hate haikus
have you seen Rick?

Rick is Alvin's hero. He went missing.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Grandpa Alvin

Alvin found a nifty sweater at his work the other night. It had been handed in to the lost property the day before. It was a stylish yet subtle grey and fit Alvin handsomely. It smelled of old person.

Alvin wore it out after work. He looked good in it. He particularly looked good in it when he would tell people it smelt of old person and then hold out a sleeve for them to smell the scent for themselves.

They would always give the sleeve a sniff and they would always agree that it did indeed smell of old people.

I'm not sure if the sweater made it into his wardrobe at home or not. We can only hope.

Alvin Anonymous

I haven't made a post for Alvin in a while - I've been busy trying to think of a new name for him. Currently Alvin is his real name. (This has just been edited 19/10/09 - Alvin may or may not be his real name)

I made the mistake of telling his brother about the blog who in turn tried to show Alvin's parents (they couldn't find it though). This is bad news for Alvin because as you may or may not have worked out, Alvin is a coked up slut when he's not in his parents home, a real modern Australian scum-bag. 

I need a name that suits him but is still as generic as Alvin. I was thinking Max but I'm unsure, I need to get on to it soon, before Alvin's dark secrets reach his family and he has to move to .... somewhere. I don't know where that somewhere is but I suspect it is cold, dark and lonely. Like Chadstone.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Random Alvin Fact #1

Alvin's favourite brand of potato chip is Kettle.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Weekend

Today is a Wednesday. True story. For Alvin this means it's time to start thinking about what to do this weekend. In fact he got a jump on this thinking by asking me last night. I wasn't helpful. 

Alvin doesn't like to plan ahead often but if there is one thing that is important to him it is getting rowdy, so planning ahead is necessary.

But this weekend poses some problems. We have a formal 21st in the city on Friday night. Problem? Well Alvin likes to party until at least 3 am. His favourite venue, Carlton Club, caters for this but the bouncers at Carlton Club are not big fans of punters in formal, particularly if they are arriving after 1 am. So, another venue must be sought to house his rowdiness. A venue that doesn't mind drunk people in formal arriving after 1 am. A venue that plays good music. A venue with good people. 

Wherever Alvin ends up it won't feel as comfortable to him as the tropical Carlton Club balcony. Last time I was there with him he got so comfortable that he kept falling asleep on one of the tables. I'd wake him up as bouncers walked by. Alvin figured they wouldn't mind, he is a part of the furniture there. Even when feeling ill he didn't do the polite thing as others would and run to the toilet, this place was his. Alvin didn't even move his forehead from the edge of the table before unleashing the contents of his stomach below him.

It seems even the beloved furniture can be removed from the club if they make a mess. I explained to the bouncers on the door that I was gonna make sure he got into a cab and then I'd return. They understood but yelled at me to run after him. I looked down Bourke Street and saw Alvin making a bee line to six police. 

When I got to him the cop was telling him to come with him. Alvin was mumbling that, no he wasn't going to go with the cop, he was going to go over there, pointing further down Bourke. It's unclear where Alvin thought he was going, there were cabs right out the front of the club entrance, and it's unclear why Alvin thought it necessary to run straight to the police so he could tell them. Alvin explained to me the next day that he probably thought that he was going to be the best smart-arse to the cops and it was going to be awesome. Sometimes ideas can't be carried out as they've been conceived though, especially by extremely drunk bodies.

I grabbed Alvin by the shoulder and told the cop that he was with me and I was going to put him in a cab. The cop said I better do that straight away or they'd put him in remand for six hours. I toyed with the idea of leaving him with the cops but only for a second. I don't think Alvin would hold it against me, it'd be an interesting experience for him. I chucked him in the next available cab and gave the driver his EFTPOS card. The driver put $50 on it immediately.

The next day Alvin met some friends at the station where the story was explained to him. He was proud that he managed to get no vomit on his clothes but when he turned around he revealed quite a lot on the back of his pants. The pants that he'd slept in.

When I told him how I put him in the cab he said, "But I didn't have $50 in my account!"

Alvin returned to Carlton Club that night.

Wherever will he go this time?

Friday, September 4, 2009


Alvin has had a rough little day today.

He had planned a lunch date with three other friends. The location was to be one of their regular haunts for lunch dates in the area - Hungry Jacks. It was arranged that the friends would either call or come by and pick him up.

Alvin woke earlier than his usual waking hour. He waited. He waited some more. The time that he expected to be picked up came and then slowly passed. He grabbed his phone and called one of his friends. He discovered that they had just eaten their Whoppers and Junior Burgers and Stunner Deals and were on their way to Southland. Heartbreaking.

Alvin asked them to pick him up on the way. They agreed but warned they were going to beep twice and leave the motor running so he had to be quick. Minutes later Alvin heard the two beeps but found his driveway empty. He called again and was told that they had stopped and waited but he took too long. He hadn't, he was nothing but swift. There was laughing in the background of the phone. The honesty of the statement was questionable.

Alvin stood in his driveway alone. He stared hard at his phone and wondered what he had done to deserve this treatment from his friends. Back inside he sat bored. Not even pwning noobs on Call of Duty could cheer him up. Something needed to be done.

First - he organised a lift from another friend to Nando's.

Second - he started plotting his revenge.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

A bad joke

Last night Alvin told me a story which turned out not to be true because it was a joke. Sometimes jokes are performed this way by clever people. Alvin is very clever. The story went like this:

'I was on the train today and when I got off a muslim guy dropped his wallet and I grabbed it. I go, "Oi mate, here's your wallet," and he goes "Wow, thanks a lot, most people wouldn't give it back. Cause you're so nice I'm gonna give you some advice. Whatever you do don't go to Frankston next Saturday." And I go, "Really?" And he goes, "Yeh, 'cause it's a shit hole!'"

I didn't find it funny. I was too engrossed in the story, I believed every word and then he pulled it away from me, turning it into a poor joke making fun of our South Eastern neighbours. When I didn't respond with laughter Alvin said, 'Fuck you.'

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

September 1st

I haven't spoken to Alvin today. He is signed in to msn but his status is "away".

I can only imagine what marvelous adventures he's up to. Maybe he's playing Call of Duty.

One time Alvin called me up 'cause he got 30 or something kills and no deaths in an online competition of the game. He was very excited because that is a big deal in Call of Duty. Alvin was a kid who never really owned a gaming console growing up, he used to tease us even, so it is strange that he has grown into a man who talks a lot about them (or it, that it being the PS3).

Yesterday he invited me to come see Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds so I could enjoy hearing him name the guns as they came on screen. The invitation was declined when we both realised we had no money. We were both shattered.

An Exciting Beginning To An Exciting Life

A friend of mine named Alvin lives an extremely exciting existance. He generally wakes between 1 and 4, plays Call of Duty until it is time to play basketball (for real, not on Playstation 3) then comes home and goes on the internet until about 3 or 4. The next day it starts all over again.

I'll be keeping a diary of all my interactions with this fellow so you, the super excited reader, we'll be able to keep up with his life. I expect millions if not hundreds of readers. Awesome!