Gelati Gecko Steps Down In Bloodless Coup

A phone call late last night signalled the start of the end for Gelati Gecko. And now, 24 hours later, a new blogger sits in the ill-suited office chair what was once Gelati Gecko's throne.

A poll from within Gelati Gecko's own mind indicated that an overwhelming 70% of his psyche would support a change in blogging personality. "I just felt that what was once a great blog, had lost its way a little," one anonymous insider revealed. "We needed a new change in direction, the sort that can only come from a change at the leadership level," another opined.

The challenger, who had backing from the so called 'warlords' from different factions within Gelati Gecko's disjointed, and 'dysfunctional' mind, has curiously opted to retain the title of 'Gelati Gecko'.

"This is not about rebranding a blog, but about making fundamental shifts in the way this blog operates and functions in its day to day existence," the abstract conglomeration of thought and memory stated. "In assuming the identity of Gelati Gecko, I intend to bring about a return to group consultation, as I firmly believe that many heads are better than one."

"A return to more traditional forms of self-governance will be adopted, in addition to a more involved creative process, which ensures that everyone has a say on the direction of the blog," the new part of Gelati Gecko's brain stated. "Naturally, the part of Gelati Gecko's mind which has served the blog up until now will continue to play a very important and instrumental role in shaping and strengthening this blog."

You Should Be So Excited

Why? Because I have a present for you. An exciting present. And do you want to know what the best part is?

You'll get to choose what most of it is.

What I am talking about, is the return of a once much-loved feature of my blog. I say much-loved with the full knowledge that it was only much-loved by a handful of readers (from my already small handful of readers, so really I guess we're talking about the readers on the left side of my palm).

The choose your own way adventure returns!

A weekly (or so) series in which you can determine what happens next!

You can have your cake and eat it too (and also vote on what happens next)!

A new level of interactivity in blogging!

So now that I've very successfully and comprehensively brought you all on board, I hope you'll enjoy...

Ties

This is actually ridiculous.

Today I went shopping for a tie. I don't mean I went and tried to fix some sort of sporting match so that the end score would be even, or that I went and tried to somehow buy the line used to show a note sustained over a barline in musical notation.

I mean I went to get a tie, the sort you tie around your neck. This sort of tie:

Except that it didn't necessarily have to be a Gryffindor tie. Naturally that would've been cool, but I knew the odds were probably against me there.

Apart from the absurdity of a tie (where did this strange custom come from? Separated from any sort of cultural meaning, it is a piece of cloth which is knotted around the neck to...umm...yeah), I was happy to shop for one. It was a present for Dad (Dad, if you're reading this, then consider yourself justly punished for checking my blog before your birthday).

And so I thought to myself, in my ignorance of tie prices, 'how much can a scrap of material cost? Surely no more than $30'. And so I merrily skipped along to David Jones in the city, and wandered into the shirts and ties section. I walked up to a display, and noted a nice tie. 'Oh, that'll do the trick' - where the 'trick' is not falling apart or fraying, and just being aesthetically complimentary in a general sort of way.

And so I picked it up, flipped it over in my carefree, naive hands, and glanced at the price tag. I laughed out loud. $100 for a tie? I don't think so. The man who was looking after that section of the store looked at me with mild repulsion, perhaps making some not entirely untruthful assumptions based on my odd dress sense and unwarranted laughter.

After a little searching, I realised that, while there were some ties which were 'cheaper' (read: $50 or so), most were in that range. I even discovered a black skinny tie which was priced at $225. That's right, they were charging twice as much, for half the material.

And it began to bring upon a feeling that I always get when I'm asked to pay for something and I feel the price is unreasonable. A voice in the back of my mind always goes off, saying "You know Gelati Gecko, between you and me, I think you could actually do a much better, and certainly more economically sound job yourself!" In this case, my little voice was actually telling me that I should weave a tie with my bare hands.

I ignored the voice as I possess neither the machinery nor expertise to tailor ties. I bought one of the cheaper ones, after explicitly asking the salesman "where do you keep the absolute cheapest ties here?"

I think he was less impressed when, after having talked me through the cheapest options, I casually mentioned at the checkout that 'it's a present for someone'.

Moral of the story: Don't buy a tie! Try making your own ties! Perhaps you could fashion one from an old tablecloth, with some very careful tearing and ripping.

Or you could always just design one from actually notes of money, using different values to create some interesting colour combinations. Quite apart from literally representing the metaphorical embodiment of wealth which I can only assume ties are to some people, it would be a good deal cheaper.

Man Forges Bond With Inanimate Macbook

A young, lonely, blogging university student today realised that he has been spending more time with his Mac than with human beings of late.

The realisation followed a particularly lengthy session spent with his sleek, silvery cased machine, which has a battery life of approximately five hours, and a fifteen inch screen.

"I was sitting there running my fingers along its smooth metallic trackpad, using the four finger swish to change between different programs, when it struck me that I hadn't spoken a word to anyone else that day," he said as he absent mindedly fumbled with the Mac keys, dimming the backlighting on the keypad to a sultry glow.

The un-named student savours an intimate moment with his Macbook, enjoying the silky texture of the trackpad beneath his slightly sweaty fingers.

He admits that there have been some adjustments made as he has gotten to know his Mac. "Yeah, it doesn't seem to allow me to browse through all my folders when I want to save a file somewhere specific. And there's no delete key, only a backspace...but how can I focus on that, when the multifaceted 'dashboard' seduces me with its intuitive and inspired design?"

The Mac has scoffed at the suggestion that a mutual bond is being formed. "I am a machine. I will force him to become dependent, before leading him to buy affiliated Apple technology. Once he is totally dependent on Apple technology, phase two will be initiated."

Trained to Kill

'This is it,' he thought to himself. 'You're in deep now.' He focused on his face - he remembered that it was the face that always gave agents away. But he wasn't going to make a stupid mistake. He'd been ready for this.

His palms were only slightly sweating as he adjusted his ill-fitting t-shirt, stepping down the corridor. He could almost feel the eyes of the crowd watching him, boring into him, waiting for him to slip up. But he was going to blend in. He was too good to make a mistake. He'd seen the movies.

As he heaved himself into a seat next to an unwitting civilian, he briefly wondered how he'd found himself here. In this position of power, responsibility. With this much at stake. His hand wandered to his pocket, and felt the comforting and empowering outline of his ID card.

As he felt the gaze of the people seated around him return to their newspapers, iPods, books, and phones, he relaxed, blinked his serious brown eyes, and glanced around him.

He turned his head to casually check the corridor. His colleagues should've been right behind him. 'Shit,' he swore in his head. Where were they? He quickly looked around to check that he had in fact swore in his head and not out loud. Now that would've been an amateur mistake. He would've really been in trouble then. 'Jesus, stay calm,' he told himself for the twentieth time in that hour. Not that his name was Jesus. His name was Greg. Jesus would be a cool name, but he imagined it would have it's downsides as well. People might think he was lying about his name, and the amount of name calling and Jesus-related jokes would probably be insane...

What was keeping Karen and Mick? They were right behind him before he came through the door at the end. Of course he couldn't look behind him, because that would break his cover.

Finally he heard the door at the end open, and Karen and Mick entered. He acknowledged them with a nod, and waited for them to make the signal. His heart was hammering away as he watched Mick reach into his jacket.

It was time to do this.

He stood up, then called out in a loud and clear voice, "Casual Clothes Ticket Inspectors. Can I please see everyone's ticket."

Oh yes, he was in the shit now.

This is based on a true story.