b3ta.com user Kaer
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Profile for Kaer:
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Aussie now living in London.

My rather erratic blog.


And if you want to know what I look like you can check out my Survivor audition video on youtube I did a few years ago.

Survivor video

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» Other people's diaries

My Brother
Myself and my brother never got on. Hate each other with a passion, and still do.

So that's why I came up with this little bit of cruelty when I was around 12 and him 9.

Never kept a diary, but I started to for reasons that will become apparent.

I made mention of the fact I was keeping a diary at dinner. You could see my brothers eyes light up. My mum saw them as well, and made it very clear that anyone other than me who read my diary, would be punished severely.

So for the next month, I wrote about crap, with the occasional tit-bit of gossip. I made mention of where I hid $5 in my room, and amazingly the money disappeared.

That was it, I had him. Now for the culmination of my evil plans.

My parents were going away for the weekend. I was staying with friends, and my brother was staying with the next door neighbours. I knew that he would be allowed back into the house for a bit, and that he would use the opportunity to read the diary.

So I put the following in : "My parents told me some interesting news today. Scott the shit has been diagnosed with cancer. He has about 3 months left to live. They told me, as they want me to be nice to him in his last months. They also said they don't want to tell him, as nothing can be done to help him. Be good when he's dead, I'll get the nice room."

When my parents got back, the neighbours said he'd been crying all weekend. Asking him what's wrong, he finally said he's dying. WTF? asked my parents. He said he had read it in my diary.

I was brought in for a yelling, but all I said was "I knew he was reading my diary. I was trying to catch him out." I also made mention about my missing money.

My Mum thought it was a clever plan, and decided to punish accordingly. Thought he suffered enough for the diary reading, but for the theft, got a caning, and I got his pocket money for the next two months.

(Tue 6th Feb 2007, 11:12, More)

» Pathological Liars

Seats on the Tube
First some background.

A few years ago, I came off my motorbike and ripped a chunk out of my knee. All superficial damage, but it left a rather nasty scar.

For the strong of stomach, here's a before picture before they stitched it up.


And an after


(If anyone is really desperate I can take a 5 year after picture sometime this weekend. It's just a 15 inch long, 2 inch wide curving scar on my knee).

Now it's purely cosmetic, itches slightly sometimes, but no damage to the knee at all. I'm in no pain, can stand, walk run etc 100% fine.

Anyway, I hate standing on the tube. And when I get on, I'll rush past anyone to sit down. (Well almost anyone, the extremely old (past 70), the pregnant and those on crutches I'll give up my seat).

So one day, I'm standing in my usual spot, and I see a middle aged woman getting ready to get on. And I can see it in her eyes, we're going to have a race here.

Get on the tube. There's a seat closer to me. The other woman goes for it. I beat her there by about 2 seconds.

She turns and stares at me. Then starts muttering under her breath. Now there is nothing physically wrong with this woman, she just ran for a seat. She's just as lazy as me.

Without saying a word, and with her staring at me and the other commuters glancing over, I roll up my jeans leg to reveal the nasty scar.

The woman starts to blush. And if I left it at that, it would have been enough. But I couldn't resist being a complete and utter cunt.

"I got that defending my country for ungrateful cows like you!"

(Note, the closest I have been to being in the army is Paintball, so I'm now being a lying bastard of the highest degree). Half the carriage now started to stare at this poor woman, who turned bright red, and bailed down to the next carriage at the next stop.

Yep I'm a lying bastard, but don't get in between me and a tube seat.
(Thu 29th Nov 2007, 15:52, More)

» Public Transport Trauma

Not exactly public transport
Couple of weeks ago I got told to remove my transformers t-shirt at Heathrow Terminal 5 to get through airport security. Told so because he was carrying a gun according to the security guy.

Anyway, after posting about it on my blog, the story broke.

I got on page 15 of "The Sun" on Monday.


BBC heard about it, and sent over a film crew. The news article:


And the interview that aired at 6:30 pm in London:


I got a pint out of it from the BBC. Which since it came from my license fees, tasted even better.

It even got as far that my Mum in Brisbane, Australia saw my picture on an early morning chat show talking about it.

So yeah, pretty crappy experience having to change my t-shirt at terminal 5, been interesting the fallout though.

Anyway, the worst experience is to come I'm sure, as I expect I've been put on a "black list" for extra special treatment next time I go through an airport, for showing what fools BAA are.

EDIT: BTW, the most amusing thing about the whole thing is reading comments on blogs/news sites around the world. They range from those giving grief to a 30 year old wearing a transformers t-shirt, to those arguing that it isn't Megatron, it's Optimus Prime.

My favourite comment so far "That's not a Brad, it's a Robert in disguise"
(Wed 4th Jun 2008, 20:14, More)

» When I met the parents

I don't like you, but I'm dating you as I hate my family
My heritage is Sri Lankan(though I'm born and live in Australia), so I'm a 6 foot tall black man.

Dating this girl a couple of times, she asks me to pick her up at her parents place.

I knock and the door and it's opened my teenager guy with a skin head. Now considering I also shave my head I think nothing of it. He looks at me strangely when I tell him I'm here to pick up Kate, but let's me in.

Cue walking into a lounge room with a Nazi Flag hung up over the mantelpiece. Cue apopolectic rage from the middleaged skin head father. Cue him getting a baseball bat and chasing me down the street.

Found out later that that she also was a racist bitch, but managed to contain her disgust as her family had pissed her off, and this was the best revenge she could think of.
(Fri 20th May 2005, 1:51, More)

» Political Correctness Gone Mad

For some reason me and my wife starting calling each other monkey.

I'm a big black guy. She's a petite white Russian girl.

Nothing racial in it, and it wasn't until I mentioned to her once that she probably shouldn't use it in public, and she asked why that I told her it's a racist term.

In the pub, she's forgotten, and says, "My little monkey, can you get me a drink?"

Silly eavesdropping middle-aged yank woman at the table next to us, decides to intervene.

"You shouldn't use that language against that poor man. Just because he is not white, you can't call him a monkey and make him get you drinks!"

My wife, who speaks perfect english (since she's lived in Australia since she was 17, before we got to London), turned up the Russian accents and responded back "I'm sorry, what do you call your niggers here?"

The woman stammered, thought for a second, then said, "We call them African-English".

WTF? If I couldn't stop cracking up at the bar, I would have told her off for that, but it was too funny.
(Wed 28th Nov 2007, 0:29, More)
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