Mum: It’s so sad, what’s happening with Margaret’s family…

Dad: What happened?

Mum: Well her children from her previous marriage are always torn between spending Christmas day at Margaret’s house, or spending it with their dad and his new wife. This year, they’ve all been fighting about it, and now all this nastiness has come out of the woodwork and it looks like they might not have Christmas lunch at all.

Me: YAWN.

Dad: Can they really not reach an agreement this year?

Mum: I don’t think they will, no. The daughter-in-law is being extremely defensive and firing up at everything Margaret says. Every time they try to have a conversation, it descends into bickering.

Dad: It is a pity. But maybe these issues need to be dealt with before the family can move on? Maybe it’s a good thing?

Mum: Yeah, I guess even normal families have to compromise at Christmas time. I mean, we always have to drive up to Newcastle to see your dad, and he hasn’t come down here in more than five years because he simply refuses to make the drive. Then we have to meet him at some awful club because he won’t cook lunch for us.

Dad: What? Dad made lunch for us on Christmas Day three years ago!

Mum: Yeah but it was woeful. A barbequed chicken and some salads.

Dad: Well is Christmas about the food you eat or the people you eat it with?

Me: Guys, Christmas is about getting drunk and admitting how you really feel about people. It’s about starting fights over repressed grudges and having painfully awkward public arguments in front of all your other family members, who scramble like mad to get out of the firing line as you attempt to embroil everyone else in your petty disputes. I’m glad to see you two are already getting into the swing of things.

Mum: Oh shut up, Annik.

Me: That’s the spirit!

Buckley was born in Indiana in 1962 and had eleven children to his highschool sweetheart, Regina.

Regina began to lose her sight in the early nineties and required an expensive operation to repair the damage to her eyes.

Through a commercial radio competition, Buckley won the May Day ‘Grab as Much Cash as You Can in 8 Minutes!’ contest, but he had no arms and Regina went blind.

What you are about to read is a very special guest post by William Raleigh, interim webmaster for http://www.timallenzone.org

Bill first came into my life when he commented on my previous post regarding Tim Allen. Since then I have been inspired by Bill’s dedication and heart-felt contributions to the Tim Allen cause. I think you will all agree that Bill is a pioneer, nay, an evangelist, and a man worthy of your respect, attention and admiration.

Over to you, Bill.

________________________________________________________________________________________

The year was 1997. There were a lot of drugs. A lot of ecstasy tablets… and a lot of entertainment.

In 1997, the motion picture For Richer or Poorer was storming into theaters. The English Patient was winning Best Picture. And Tim Allen was winning the People’s Choice Award for Best Male Television Performer.  Even more importantly maybe, Tim Allen was winning the hearts of millions.

But as much as it pains me to say it, this is not a post about Tim Allen. In fact it’s not even about my love of Tim Allen.  I could go on and on about my connection to Tim. About the fact that, as an orphan child, I truly looked up to Tim and Jill as my “tv parents.”  But I think, on some level, that’s something we all do with Tim Allen.  There’s something so deeply unique, yet commonplace about the man, that we can’t help but subjectify the experience, the ecstasy, that only a performer of Tim’s caliber can induce. But as deeply as it hurts, I know that Tim Allen is not someone who we can take in our arms and never let go. He was meant to be shared with the world. I will always treasure the moments of solitude I’ve had, psychic connections you could say, with Mr. Allen. But I fear that expounding on the subject may only serve to mitigate your own experiences, dear reader. And if there’s one thing I don’t want to do, it’s soil your personal connection with Tim Allen.

So instead, this post is about my lifelong journey, my dharma, of spreading Tim’s Warmth with all who care to bask and revel in it.

Naturally, when Annik asked me to do a guest post on her blog, my first thought (as it usually is) was- How can I use this to help Tim Allen?  Recently my friend, and Timallenzone.org co-founder, Andrew Kane, said to me:  ”You’ve done enough for Tim Allen, Bill. Isn’t it time you got the spotlight for a little bit?”

And maybe it is.  See, in 1997, a small group (two, to be exact) of avid fans got together with one goal– to utilize the World Wide Web in a way that had only been fantasized about before– as an entertainment mecca. An amalgamation of news, media, and fanboy love. Since then, a lot of people have taken timallenzone.org’s lead, and such websites have become common place. But at the time, everyone thought they were crazy.

Benjamin Smith and Andrew Kane pooled their resources, and launched a website on the now defunct Geocities (rip). The site was a tribute to the greatest entertainer of all time– and, as history has proven, one of the most timeless icons of the last few generations– Tim Allen.

I was still a relative child at the time. And, while I watched Home Improvement religiously, and while my heart swelled with love and pride for the Tool Man, I didn’t even know what it meant to be a true fan. Not until Ben and Andrew found me, and set me free.

In 2003, I was working at an apple orchard in Vermont. But even there, on those peaceful plains strewn with sun-ripe fruit, I found myself magnetically attracted to my computer. You see, by then, Home improvement was off the air. There were no megaplexes nearby, and thus no way for me to see the latest Tim Allen blockbuster. The internet was my only true connection to my hero, Tim Allen. I moderated a lot of messageboards, I spent a lot of time in chat rooms. And yes, unfortunately, I did a lot of cocaine powder. (Funnily, that addiction, and my subsequent recovery, only made me feel more connected to Tim. Tim’s been there. He’s fallen from great heights, and lifted himself back up again. As Tim did, so did I.) My cocaine-fueled scouring of Tim Allen internet sites eventually led me to Andrew and Ben’s magnificient, “Unofficial Tim Allen Fan Zone.”

Two years and several rehabs later, I became the interim webmaster for Tim Allen Zone.org. A dream come true, to say the least.

What we lack in content, we more than make up for in heart. We’ve received critical feedback about our spotty news feed (which I should probably update) as well as our lack of any functioning message board. But message board or not, there’s no denying that Timallenzone.org is a community. A real community.

And I guess what I’m asking you is to become a part of that community.  We’re adding new stuff all the time. We recently added a Fan Art/Fan Fiction section, which I urge you to check out. There’s some great stuff there. Also, by teaming up with the folks at Beards Encouraged, we’ve managed to bring our little-website-that-could into the 21st century. We now feature original Youtube tributes,  a Facebook Fan Page, a Twitter Feed… even our own blog. But no matter how high-tech we get, no matter how high our page-counter soars, we’ll never forget who we are, where we came from, or why we’re here.

We’re here for one man who taught us all how to laugh and love. We’re here because of Tim Allen. Remember that. I know I will.

With love,

Bill Raleigh

Sometimes when I’m having trouble expressing something, I write a song. This means that often when I have something I want to tell somebody, rather than simply talking to them, I’ll wait until they’re drunk and perform an impromptu acoustic gig for them. It’s not the most direct approach, but it usually works after seven beers.

I recently wrote a song about my friend Julia who, for some reason, continues to help me clean up every time I make a mess of my life. I waited until I felt confident/drunk enough, and then I played the song for her at a BBQ, while some mutual friends sat and listened quietly.

When I finished, there was a moment of silence and a few of the girls looked misty-eyed.

“What did you think?” I finally asked Julia.

“Can you play My Friends by the Chili Peppers?” she replied.

Sometimes when you live in the Hills, you get gold in your letterbox. This arrived yesterday and I read it from cover to cover.

I’m not sure why, but I really want to know how much rice was given to these asylum seekers to pose for the photos.

Their passion is palpable.

Actually, this whole concept doesn’t even make fucking sense. The last time our household dealt hard, we were arrested and the police confiscated all our pot.

Sadly, this edition of the Hills Negotiator didn’t include a coupon for Jessica Mauboy’s new album. I have high hopes for issue #19 though.

I know it’s usually all fun and games and mangled feet around here, but now it’s time to get serious.

*loosens belt*

Sometimes people kill themselves, especially young dudes. And so, as part of the Man Week initiative (which aims to raise awareness about mental illness and addiction in males), Gavin Heaton, who is super nice, and Mark Pollard, who I met once at a conference, have both survived being young dudes and worked really hard to put together this book for men. The book is about all kinds of stuff – what it means to be a dude, how to cope when you’re a struggling dude, and teaching your kids important stuff about being a dude. All the proceeds go to the Inspire Foundation and they’re going to do awesome things with the money, which you probably don’t need anyway.

As a lover of men, this is an issue that is close to the place in my chest where a heart would normally reside. I also know what it’s like to feel crap and not really know what to do about it.

I wrote a story about my dad, who is awesome, and how he taught me some valuable lessons about what it means to be a man. You can read that, along with many better pieces in the book, which is now available for your purchasing pleasure.

You can find out more info about the book here.

If you are shy on cash, you can buy the eBook version for $15 here.

Or if you prefer a more “hands on” experience,  you can buy the soft cover from Blurb and I will read it to you by candlelight.*

So dig deep and get a nice present for your pa or some other dude in your life.

*will not actually read to anyone by candlelight, not even Jesus himself.

Orthopaedic shoe inserts are potentially the biggest scam of the twenty-first century.

Introduced at the beginning of the new millennium and hailed as the western-world’s answer to childhood obesity, impotence, and red licorice, orthopaedic shoe inserts cost $4,000 each and can result in death.

You should not use orthopaedic shoe inserts if you are French or pregnant.

This is why:

BEFORE

AFTER

AFTER A LOT

GOOD GOD, THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THE AUDIENCE

Cabbie: Whoah.. haha, rough night?

Me: Excuse me?

Cabbie: You just look like you’ve been partying pretty hard.

Me: Right.. Can you take me to the Hills?

Cabbie: Sure. But just so you know, there’s a $60 fine if you vomit in a taxi.

Me: I’m not going to vomit in the taxi.

Cabbie: Okay, but just so you know–

Me: I’m fine.

Cabbie: You just look a little tired, that’s all. My mate rang me only half an hour ago cause some girl hurled in his cab. It’s a massive pain because you have to take the car to get cleaned, then you miss out on fares… So $60 doesn’t even really cover you.

Me: Take the motorway, please.

Cabbie: You know what the worst thing is? When people pay by credit. Man, I hate people who use credit cards. The driver doesn’t get the payment for at least two weeks.

Me: I’m sure it doesn’t take that long.

Cabbie: It does. Sometimes it takes months.

Me: I have cash.

Cabbie: Okay, but keep in mind it’s an extra $60 if you throw up.

Me: I’m not going to throw up.

Cabbie: Alright. Maybe we should stop talking and you can just concentrate on not throwing up.

Me: Sure, great.

Half an hour later.

Cabbie: Okay, so including tolls and the surcharge, that’ll be…$113.50

Me: Oh.. Do you take Mastercard? Put it through quickly, I’m feeling kind of nauseous.

Julia: Annik? Is that you in there?

Me: Yes.

Julia: I knew it!

Me: How did you know? Did you look at my shoes?

Julia: No, I just recognise the sound of the way you remove toilet paper from the dispenser.

Me: I think we should spend time with other people.

does drinking gin keep mosquitoes away?

I’m not sure, but I’m fairly certain Sam will be able to tell you.

is he slowly breaking up with me?

Probably, if you are the kind of person who performs google searches rather than simply speaking to your more-intelligent half about any problems you might be experiencing in your relationship.

what happens to brain during accident?

During an accident, your brain expands significantly before melting and draining through your nostrils in a tragic, pungent mess, not dissimilar to a Jessica Mauboy song.

what happens when you break your two front adult teeth?

Again, I will defer this question to Sam.

example of anecdote?

Here is a recent example of an anecdote, courtesy of my mother:

“Your father and I had tickets to the theatre last weekend, and we had four extra ones, so I invited two ladies from church and then your aunt and uncle. What we didn’t know was that your aunt had also invited a friend! So we all arrived and we were short one ticket, which was very awkward because I couldn’t ask the church ladies to leave, but I couldn’t leave them either, and I couldn’t uninvite your aunt or uncle, and they couldn’t tell their friend to go home, so in the end Uncle Ben did the honourable thing and said, “You guys go and enjoy yourselves, I need an early night anyway” and he went home, which wasn’t really too inconvenient because they live quite close to the theatre anyway. So it all worked out in the– are you wearing headphones? Annik??”

if annik skelton isn’t a lesbian what is she?

I’m a Gemini.

is annik skelton the seafolly girl?

No, but I want to be inside her.

what happened to my ex narcissist boyfiend?

Presumably he ceased his self-absorbed ways, JUDGING BY YOUR SHITTY GRAMMAR.

after getting wisdom teeth pulled when does swelling go down?

Never. It is permanent. You consented to this when you signed the paperwork from your surgeon.

annik skelton might be satan – how can i tell?

The only way to truly determine my non-satanic status is to take me somewhere nice for dinner and buy me expensive cocktails. Unless you’re ugly, in which case you should just stay where you are.

can wisdom teeth be removed at the hospital?

No, unfortunately they cannot. Wisdom teeth removal is a self-surgery that must be performed at home, without anesthetic, using only a rubber glove and a pair of rusty barbeque tongs.

does lady annik skelton have a dick like lady gaga?

No.

how the fuck do i find weight watchers points?

You need to relax your anal cavity and purhase the points book. Or just stick your fingers down your throat and vomit until you are better looking and happier.

how to shrink my gums after having wisdom teeth removed?

This question disturbs me. I am not going to answer this.

is the fucking healthy?

Of course! Sex is a very important part of your professional and familial development.

what is apartheid?

Looks like today is your lucky day! I recently published an article on this very subject, after years of research. This piece should clear up any confusion you may have regarding apartheid.

what shall i do with my fucked up brother?

Either help him, sell him on eBay, or take him up the F3 and leave him on a beach somewhere the way I did with our dog when he wouldn’t stop urinating in the linen cupboard

what should i look out for after having wisdom teeth out?

Mormons, sniffer-dogs, Jessica Mauboy, organic food products and scabies.

what your dad’s death should mean to you?

Hopefully a hefty inheritance! It may also include a “Black” themed party and some extra room around the dinner table.

why does my cat scratch at the door?

My god, this one is tough! I’m no animalogist, but if I had to put my money anywhere, I’d hazard a guess and say your cat wants to be let inside. If that doesn’t work, try peeling it and see if it continues to scratch at the door after that.