National Geographic: The Life Of (Inside) Insects

Don't get me wrong, Man Abroad is all man. But insects are not high on the Awesome List, especially as room mates. This is the country however and we all have to live in A Slaughter Free Zone (commonly referred to as Peace). Therefore, in the interests of science and keeping Man Fear under control I have embarked on a mostly peaceful documentation process of the abundance of insectoid lifeforms residing with me.

The Europeans have ruined another country by introducing every annoying plant and animal they possibly could. That includes the European Wasp, which seems a little less aggressive than the identical ones we have in Australia but they are fucking everywhere. I actually relocate any that stumble into my bedroom. Most of the houses here are made of wood, without insulation and a shitload of gaps so trying to keep them out would be as pointless as having a conversation with a fucking hippie backpacker.


These two lived in the communal bathroom. One stayed on the nest all the time and the other came and went as it pleased. They left me alone and I them. It worked well and I was looking forward to seeing the family when they hatched (or whatever the fuck wasps do). However, one day I noticed the Mum (or Stay At Home Dad) that is always there was not there. So I went about my business, hoping to touch base with it later. I won't go into details but some toilet brush action was required – I reached behind The John and grabbed it and in a moment of sheer Horror I saw a spider eating the Mum/Dad wasp in amongst the bristles. Overcome with rage (and inconvenience) I killed the spider in a horrible manner (no details necessary) and conveniently gave the wasp an Active Navy Officer's Funeral at the same time. To those that say a human can't love an insect I say taste my salty tears.


That left a broken family and abandoned children. So I did what any passionate scientist would do — I ripped it off the ceiling, photographed it, poked it a bit with a stick and threw it in the fire. Amazing little construction that, strong but soft, durable but highly flammable.


You can even see a little wasp dude in this one. Sure, its life was short, it never got to spread its wings, it's Mum/Dad got eaten by a Toilet Brush Dwelling Spider and it died in a fiery inferno — but that's the miracle of life.


Spiders on the other hand are a different story. If it's large-ish and moving quickly I will destroy it. And I will do so fast. This fucker skittered across the floor whilst I was barefoot so I launched my Hand Activated Arachnid Destroying Pulverizer (which occasionally doubles as a dictionary) and smashed it to hell and then some.


As you can see, that's not a recoverable injury and funnily enough it turned out not to be a spider either. Looks kind of roachy to me which also have to die, so all is good.


Now this was a scary scenario. He moved like Matt Shrivington across the floorboards and needed to perish (just like Shirvo if I ever see him — that'll be hard work too with such a small dictionary). This black beast was heading to Under Bed Territory where my Hand Activated Arachnid Destroying Pulverizer doesn't work too well. So I launched a Foot Activated Distraction Device (a dirty sock, seriously dirty, like, country dirty) causing the retard to turn around giving me enough time to find the Hand Activated Arachnid Destroying Pulverizer which was buried under my Arsenal Of Foot Activated Distraction Devices. Then I pulverized the fucker – and it was big man because it didn't splat when I hit it, and I don't hold back.



These two are residing in another part of the house that is outside my sleeping quarters so they won't be bothered. I had been keeping a close eye on them though. Chile has no real dangerous creatures at all except for one; The Rincon Spider. Which will most likely kill you if you get bitten. And I didn't know what it looked like so every spider I saw could have been a potential Rincon Spider.


I did my research and this is a Rincon Spider. I felt better knowing that all of the spiders I had seen in the house so far where definitely not Rincons. HOWEVER, the other night when I was brushing my teeth I saw something Yoyo-sized and brown out the corner of my eye on the ceiling (which in the Chilean countryside is about 10cm above my head). Just before it slipped into the generous gaps between the 'skylight' and the ceiling boards. And I am sorry to say the bastard looked just like this picture. So now I am very much On Toes.


Luckily, most of the spiders in the small ecosystem which is This House are after nothing but some fly action and lots of it.


Another fallen amigo. God Speed my friend.


Whoa. Sorry to interrupt guys.




There are more flies in the Australian countryside, that's for sure, BUT they have a horsefly thing here that is pant wetting in its largeness and as persistent as a Fat Drunk Gringo Hunter In A Foreigner Bar. I have been unable to photograph one thus far but here is a scale drawing that will give you a fairly accurate indication. They ruin any and every scenic walk on a hot day and make you want to slit your own throat with a blunt rock.


This gunshot like wound on my finger (which has taken three weeks to heal) came from an Insect In The Bed Moment. I was living the typical Chilean farmer night life by watching cartoons in bed, alone in the dark, when I felt something crawl across my hand. I moved a good three metres in one jerking motion and snagged my finger on the bed head. The culprit was never found and I wouldn't be surprised if it fell into that crater-like abyss of a wound.


There have been a few massive intruders into the Man Abroad Sanctuary that initiated a full scale and ruthless counter attack. This massive fella pissed off the wrong gringo. Luckily I was already in my Travel Combat Gear whilst pre-writing some hilarious emails when this hard shelled turd burglar busted in. And of course I fucked him up bigtime and made an example of him to scare of like-minders; flipped him on his back, called him names, put a bullet between all of his eyes, wrote I am Man Abroad's Bitch on it's exoskeleton, cut off his insect penis and shoved it in his insect mouth (both of which were more trouble than it was worth), took photos of me abusing it and pinned them up outside my door. There have since been no others.


This earth shatteringly sexy photo was taken with the safety of glass between me and the beast. Some tourists were coming home late so I turned the back stairs light on for them. It was a hot night and those ant things with wings went spastic around the light globe. And a platoon of these crafty bastards came out and gorged all night.


Snared!


The house is home to scores of freeloaders who stick to the cracks to avoid paying rent. It is rare that I will ever see any of them leave their houses but occasionally if I am patient or poke it with something long enough they will come to the door. These two biggies in the bathroom always interested me as to whom was occupying them. Then one day a steady stream of poking and insults revealed the occupant...


Well, fucking well. Look who it is. Old Rick Moranis finally did it; he shrunk himself and couldn't (or wasn't allowed to) get re-biggerized. Maybe someone finally realized that that franchise was the culinary equivalent of a Turd Sandwich with all the trimmings. He looks a little aggressive doesn't he, standing there like that in his trakky dakky's? Maybe he thinks the Paparazzi have discovered his South American hideout and come to disrupt him, but surely he is aware that they don't care for Nerd Burgers like him. He then threatened me with a series of impressive moves, forgetting that I could crush him with a toothbrush (but not mine of course, someone else's). I wonder where he learnt them? That is a pretty good stance he's holding there. It looks almost familiar...


Of course! He's been learning Mantis Kung Fu from a Mantis and a tough looking one at that. Murray was his name, he was a Chinese mantis that fled to Chile in the eighties when he accidentally burnt down an orphanage during a demonstration. He told me he had originally planned on decapitating and eating the Smarmy Annoying C&%$, but changed his mind and decided to teach him when Rick came through with some cash.


Now he's just trying to showing off. Like I care if he's got some money hungry winged hooker for a wife (although that is a dangerously decked out thorax she is sporting). And that baby of his, in my opinion, is fucking ugly (I hope it stings him in the eye when he's sleeping and they both die).


Then there is this pain in the arse that also lives in the bathroom. And the only redeeming feature about him is that he hates Rick Moranis as much as I do. He thinks he owns the basin and rides around on his girl bike hassling me every time I brush my teeth or stand there soaking in the magnificence of my new Farm Beard.


This guy isn't so bad and I haven't killed him yet (think of the splatter he would make!) but he does get on my nerves. He just stands there in the corner always asking what I am doing on the laptop. Fuck of Bug Boy or I'll snap off your wings and shove up your insect arse is my usual response.

So as you can see, it is indeed a diverse environment here on the farm. I have learned to be more tolerant of others different and inferior to me. Each day Man Abroad becomes even more of a man.

Stranger In The Room

The other day I was quietly photoshopping in the kitchen eatery enjoying a fresh cup of chamomile tea when a shiver run up my spine. Someone was watching me... but I thought I was the only one home all day? I did a quick Ninja Glance Survey of the room and out the windows... nothing. I started to get nervous, the highly trained fighter in me knows when to trust the gut instinct, like Wolverine when he smells something suss, Luke Skywalker when he detects trouble brewing in the Force (although that didn't stop him making out with his sister) or Buffy when that stabbing pain in her lady spot tells her a Werewolf is near or she needs to hit a cubicle asap. Then in a flash I knew what it was... the stereo... it was one of the old fashioned Philips ET Head Shaped Stereos from years back. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before — it stood out like dogs balls now. Released in 2002 to commerate the 20th Anniversary of ET the movie, the notorious stereos were known less for their ET resemblance and more for their constant disc chewing, extreme flammability and electric shocking aerial. Eventually withdrawn from the market and dubbed ET: Extremely Torchable, they skipped over cult status and collectors item and went straight to the dumps in masses.


Old ET! I haven't seen him in years. Not sure what he's up to nowadays but I heard that he got extradited back to his home planet for trying to glow finger a senator's under age daughter at a fundraising event. Back in the Hey Day though, when he was shit hot (and he knew it – he's the only member of his entire race that doesn't wear clothes) back in the 80's we did a Christmas Duet album. Surely you remember it?


Such a classic Christmas album Christmas Hugs From ET & Man Abroad. Right up there with Frank Sinatra's The Christmas Album and definitely better than the burnable Hey Rudolph by the Tin Lids (Jimmy Barnes' evil spawn). Outstanding tracks songs like: Here Comes Man Abroad, ET The Glow Fingered Alien, A Child (Alien) This Day Is Born, Away In A Spaceship, O Come All Ye Faithfull (Or Your Towns Will Be Lasered Into Nothingness), Joy To The World(s), Man Abroad Is Coming To Town, The Little Drummer Boy (Is Cute Hey ET?), Silent But Deadly Night (SBDN), The Christ-Man-Abroad Song, and All I want for Christmas (Is An Interdimensional Armour Piercing Space Gun).

It was quite the commercial success and is still selling strong, almost catching up with my other highly awarded Christmas Album:


Man Abroad, A Very Sexy Christmas. Popular with the ladies during the festive season, it includes such memorable songs as; I Wish You A Sexy Christmas, A Child This Day (In 9 Months) Is Born, Bells Will Be Ringing (Baby), All I Want For Christmas Is Another Silk Dressing Gown, Here Cums Santa Claus, Is That Xmas Or Just Some Dry Skin Baby?, It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Seduction, The Twelve Days Of XXX-Mas, O Holey Night and Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow.


Both shat rainbows on the regrettable collaboration album I did in the early nighties. The Men Abroad Band was always going to be a quick cash cow for Man Abroad but proved to be damn near career suicide. That's what my producer Pisco Rodriguez told me and I was dumb enough to believe the turd whisperer. Take my advice and never work with children, animals, pussy little hairless boy band singers (the tantrums and non stop crying is what got me) or greasy Latin American Producers with gold teeth in white Panama Suits. The album included such unforgettable numbers as: We Five (Boy) Kings, All I Want For Christmas Is A Back Crack And Sack Wax, Away Is Our Manager, Boys To The World, The Nightwear Before Christmas, A New Dolce & Gabbana Store Is Coming To Town, It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Fake Tan, and The Most Wonderful (Hair) Day Of The Year.


Then there was the slightly more aggressive We Wish You A Militant Christmas album. This was a self funded project to say Go fuck a trash can to my ex-producer Pisco after nearly running my career into the ground. Pisco sacked me from his label (Completos Recorditos) without pay out, so I did what had to be done; taking heed from my own album, I molotov'd his house, burnt his cars, spit roasted his dog (as in ate) and pistol whipped him until I got my money back. Remember, you only get out what you put in. It included such hard hitting Miliant Christmas hits as; The Twelve Day Siege Of Christmas, Bombs Will Be Ringing, Away In A MiG-29, Deck The Halls (With Barbs Of Wire), Jingle Bells Rocket Launcher, The Night Raid Before Christmas, Silencer Night, Christmas Mourning, Molotov Cocktail Time Is Here and It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like A Counter Attack.

Possibly the pinnacle of the music industry, Christmas Albums are the Crème de la Crème, the Highest Branches in the Music Tree. There is little room for error with the discerning Christmas Music Consumer. They will chew you up and spit you out if you tread even slightly off track. I am tossing around ideas for the next Christmas Album, possibly with a tasty Latin twist...

A Boy Among Boys

Forget Boy Wonder and his tight little panties.


Forget that weird little rocket-footed-nipple-less-sissy Astroboy (how can he fly in space sans helmet without his eyes imploding? A slight oversight Tezuka, no?)


Please, PLEASE forget the 1990's Irish bowel movement that was Boyzone which rose from the depths of hell to terrorise the airwaves.


Forget Storm Boy and his unnatural relationship with a Pelican (sometimes kids shouldn't be allowed to play with animals).


Forget the fake boy that wanted to be a real boy (and lived with a dodgy moustached old dude)


Forget girls who look like boys (unless they are seriously hot, then it's okay-ish).


And definitely dip your mind in Draino to help forget boys who look like girls (that face scares me).


There's a new arse kicking boy about... the one and only Farm Boy. Able to eat ANY part of an animal (at least once) and stand steadfast in the face of charging geese. Nothing is too much for Farm Boy, you know what they say; A boy in the hand is worth two in the bush. And that has now been acknowledged by the community at large...


Here is Farm Boy winning Farm Boy of the Year for the recently passed 2009. Look at that sultry pout, so tough a boy, so tender a boy (that bovine is butter in his hands).


This is where Farm Boy lives. It's basic but real. No fancy lace curtains and mod cons, just four walls and a roof-ish thing. That being said, this is a pretty bad angle...


...yeah that's a bit better actually (must of had the flash on). It has half a dozen bedrooms upstairs for tourists to stay in and the kitchen 'n that downstairs, where everything is cooked wood fire stove style.


Here is a killer panoramic from another side of the house. Click it bigger Delia.


It might look like a bit like Grug with his eyes gouged out but that's just a coincidence. It's a Rukka, a traditional native Mapuche hut thing that the Ancients used to live in. Tourists come and eat in here and have BBQ's and the family use it for special occasions too.


Basically what you do is grab a carcass, shove a pole up its arse and out through it's mouth (or vice versa if you like) and roast it over the fire in the middle. It's nice in there albeit smoky as hell and I smash my head on the midget exit doorway at least once in every four.


I almost feel nauseous it's so damn green here. Besides the blue sky there are no other colours only 10,000 shades of green. They have water coming out their arse's here it's a bit obscene really.



There are three volcanoes nearby (two within eyeshot of the house). This and the previous (National Geographic Quality) photo are both Volcan Villarrica—notice the killer pancake cloud in the first shot. People ski it and trek it in hoards everyday. I was supposed to go up it the other day but they just had a fucking avalanche so that got put on hold for a while.


I am riding the bike everyday anywhere between 30mins and 4 hours. Therefore much to my dismay, I went to the city the other night for drinks and my new Lance Armstrong thighs don't fit in my sweet-as-hell-designer-black-Nudie-brand-jeans anymore. Looks like I am wearing spandex, you can actually read every number on the keypad of my phone in my pocket. But they are behind on the fashion steaks here (all the dudes are still wearing those repulsive pussy little mullety haircuts – I thought I'd seen the end of that a couple of years back). If anyone asks what's wrong with my pants I'll just tell them I am a Fashion Icon From The Future that has traveled back in time (at considerable cost) to fast track the rural clothing scene. Either that or I'll knee 'em in the pouch and run (as best I can with such tight pants). But I digress, I ride at lot and there are lots 'o hills here, dodgy pot holed gravel roads and nothing but head winds. Therefore I am working for it. I actually eat a block of chocolate everytime I go, just for energy.


And this is the chocolate I am eating up to two blocks a day of. The name says it all: cheap and fucking nasty (and sounds like a robot snack). But I need a little something something for the backpack and any desperate situations I might encounter. One of those blocks (which is actually only 80grams like a Mars Bars – that's not so bad yeah?) cost 300 pesos which is something like 65 cents. And Pucon is a touristy/expensive son of a bitch of a town so that will give you an indication of the type of quality I am talking about.


Snack Attack after a brutal 2 Hour Non Stop Up Slant Ride Because I Rode An Hour Past Where I Wanted To Go Due To Poxy Inadequate Signage type scenario. And yes, that's a tube of precious Vegemite cradled lovingly between my legs.


Another Pulitzer winning photograph. This is one of the Saltos nearby (maybe Salto China).


It's so lush with green stuff that its growing all the way up the rock face. And like this photo shows, it's disturbing to the eye because it feels like you are looking at forest from birds eye view not human eye view.


This same Salto had this wicked little wood carving. I thought seriously about flogging it (when in Rome...), but the logistics where too problematic. Then I thought about torching it because if I can't have it no one can. But I didn't have a light so I let it be.


After my initial Wooden Lizard impression you can imagine my disappointment when it was followed up by these two abused and under-appendaged monkeys. They needed to be put out of their misery.


Now here was some wooden mastery I could appreciate. Don't have a seat? Then chainsaw down a fucking massive tree and MAKE one man! The world is your oyster and the trees are your seats.


No idea what's happening here. I can't tell if it is an old sign for one of the thermal baths nearby or the remnants of many signs passed. Is it just me or does it look like a misproportioned mermaid with a Terrance & Philip head?


What's this then?


Looks kinda like Farm Boy took some shots from a chopper whilst out on an Aerial Cow Tagging With Dual Hand Guns Sans Seatbelt Joy Ride. Or maybe it's just artfully shot bridge moss? I guess you'll never know.


We are in the midst of elections right now in Chile for a new President. Luckily all the information you could need is plastered on every square inch of public space. You know, the kind of information you need to elect a new nation head to run your country effectively; badly photographed faces on worsely photoshopped backgrounds with a name and up to six word slogans (We Are Going To Live Better, I'm Less Bad Than The Other Guy, You Can Trust My Cheesy Grin, Vote For Me Or Else, I Paid For Better Photoshopping). At least it gives all the homeless dogs somewhere to sleep.


Speaking of dogs, this is possibly my best friend down here in the country (might have something to do with the fact that he's the only one that speaks less Spanish than me, or maybe not). His name is Guacho and he's a mental little puppy. He likes me because I give him more Pat Time than anyone else (who all have real work to do).


This is not what it looks like! No need to call the RSPCA (what are they gonna do? Fly all the way to Chile? Mooohahahah). That lion in the background is Tokki; a lovely dog with a old gorilla man rumble that smells like absolute shit. I can't pat him unless I'm about to go inside and have a shower it's that bad. He's as old as white turd though so maybe that's why.


Cheeky little fucker.


I knew farm animals were stupid, but this experience on the farm has opened my eyes to the depths of their stupidity. Why's that you ask? Have a look at this picture — that's a fucking chicken mothering baby ducks. All you have to do is shove her on some eggs for at least 2 weeks before they hatch and she can't tell the difference. When they hit the water for a swim, she skitters about dropping turds on the banks until they come back in. Unbelievable.


Yeah that's right, I use the river to wash my clothes man. Well, rinse them. There is a washing machine here but the bastard can't rinse. Don't ask me why the fuck not because my River Rinsing Back gets convulsey when I think about it. That water is as cold as a dick in snow too. And I'm so bad at it that half my stuff comes out dirtier than when it went into the fricking washer.


Check out the war wounds amigos, or Poo Wounds to be more accurate (all the brown stuff is pure turd). Lifting a small community of sheep (possibly the most retarded of all domesticated animals) into a walled truck did this. Look at that vicious hoof to the abdomen! Thanks Christ Almighty I didn't cop that in the face.


But revenge was had. I may have a bruised stomach but this poor fucker got it worse (much worse some may say). The house needed more meat so they when and got some the old school method. I watched it from start to finish, it was pretty gross indeed, albeit quick.


Not long after it was completely disassembled. The skin is used for rugs, and ALL parts are eaten.


Including this; coagulated blood taken immediately from the slit throat, left to firm up for 10 minutes and served with chilli, lemon and coriander. Yes, Farm Boy ate it as well. The firmer bits were alright but the pure runny blood parts were a bit rough on the guts.

There you it have dear fans. Man Abroad has shed his Fancy Alcohol Fueled Leather Hoody City Boy image for an Carb Saturated Thigh Enlarging Dirt 'N Shit Covered Farm Boy image. What's next you say? South American Catholic Missionary Boy? Bearded Tight Arse Hippie Backpacker Boy? Or Fancy Alcohol Fueled Leather Hoody City Boy once more?...