How to write a Nick-Buck-Blog

Obscene or innocuous opening statement. Reframing opening statement from unexpected yet intriguing perspective. Lengthy convoluted sentence culminating in personal outrage.

Fair-minded analysis of the situation. Complete retraction of fair-minded analysis. Challenging philosophical thought. Shallow and ego-centric rebuttal of philosophical thought. Gratuitous swearing. General ranting.

Humorous self depreciating conclusion.

????????

Well for my first ever blog I couldn't resist writing about a topic that has been running around in my head for a while now. That of course is the Olympics. My first idea was to write about the commonly debated topic of what sports should or shouldn't be included in the Olympic games. I soon realised, however, that once I got started writing on this topic there would be a chance that I wouldn't stop writing and this short blog would soon become a 14 volume encylopedia.

So I had another idea. I would write about a new Olympic event that should be included in every Olympic games from now on. I don't know what this event would be called. Perhaps it shouldn't have a name as no human word could do justice to the greatness of this event.

The purpose behind this event would be to establish the most athletic mammal on earth (I don't think us humans should discriminate so I think that any mammal should be allowed to enter as long as they can qualify and correctly fill in the appropriate entry forms). Athleticism would be defined in terms of strength, speed, power and endurance.

Essentially this event would be similar to a Pentathlon or Decatholon except that it would actually be an good event. Each athlete entering in this event would be required to particpate in every track and field event with the addition of weightlifting. What this means is that they would have to run every Olympic distance from 100 meters to the marathon (including hurdles and steeplechase). They would have to do long jump, high jump and pole vault (triple jump would not be included - I'm knocking it as a sport but it's just not primal enough). They would have to do all the throwing events (i.e. discus, hammer throw and shot put). Finally they would have to do weightlifting (snatch and clean and jerk). Furthermore, all these events have to be done in the same day.

There would obviously have to be some sort of points system to establish a ranking and determine the winners. I haven't fully figured out yet how this would work but am open to suggestions.

The male and female winner of this event would be crowned the offical Olympic King and Queen, receiving crowns in addition to medals. They would officially be granted the status of greatest athlete in the world and given votes at United Nations meetings. It would be illegal for anyone to suggest that they were a greater athlete that the current Olympic King or Queen, with the punishment for such an offence being a minimum of four years in prison plus the offender having his or her legs broken to prevent them from participating in future athletic pursuits.

If any readers out there agree with this idea for the greatest ever sporting event in history, I suggest we start a petition and send it directly to Baron de Coubertin himself. I believe it's not to late to have this event included at Beijing.

In other matters, Nick Buck is having a birthday around this time.

you can still be an astronaut

One of the saddest things about getting as old as I am (29, for the curious, though that's apparently a 'joke age' that everyone who's insecure about being in their 30s claims to be. Which is it? You decide.), is not that I was learning long division when most of the public hospital doctors I meet were learning not to poo their pants, but that I can now never be an astronaut.

The chances were never high, admittedly, but when I was 12, it was still a theoretical possibility, and I took it for granted that one day I would do something just as cool. My Mum used to be an international hockey player, and I think my sisters and I all assumed we would be, as a matter of course. So international hockey player, astronaut, Prime Minister: these were all realistic possibilities in my head.

Now? Not so much. I can never be an astronaut; I've missed my chance. By the time I got my astrophysics PhD from MIT and my US citizenship, I'd be too old. I can never compete at the Olympics (unless it's in a non-sport like shooting that shouldn't be in there anyway), and the chances are pretty damn slim that I'll follow my Mum into the NZ hockey team. Prime Minister is still open, given the vagaries of MMP (Winston Peters as Treasurer and then Foreign Affairs Minister? Don Brash as Leader of the Opposition? Clearly, anything's possible), but becoming less and less likely as the years go by without me greasing up to any political party selection panel.

But Nick, you're only 25 today, and you can do anything. You could still go to the Olympics, and you can still be an astronaut. I'm trying not to be jealous.

Happy Birthday, my friend. I watch with interest.

Celestial Joy

Nick relaxes by doing stuff....
Leeches such as myself greatly benefit from this as you will see in the following description of a typical lazy chill-out evening.

Fellow slouch and I sitting on the couch while Nick cooks up yummy dinner, us sitting on the couch while Nick makes yummy pudding, me playing with golly, fellow slouch thinking about the Olympics or Smashing Pumpkins, whilst sitting on the couch and Nick in the kitchen making yummy drinks...
This sounds terrible and yes I am a lazy bugger but for all my protesting (which admittedly isn't that much) Nick claims that partaking in this culinary slavery is his equivalent to sitting on the couch.

I must say this is a tad worrying to idlers such as myself. It's just beyond my comprehension and things I don't understand make me nervous. Many a whispered conversation I have had with fellow slouch, fretting over our and Nicks roles in this scenario. But you can't say he doesn't look happy. In fact, Nick has such a serene look of peace and celestial joy whilst pottering around creating yummyness that it almost makes us slouchers a bit jealous of his found nirvana. Suddenly the couch looks kind of shabby from where we're sitting, surveying the shaft of light beaming down upon Nicks head through the kitchen window (even more impressive given it's night) and faintly picking out the cascading notes of the heavenly choir emanating across the room.

What's his secret? How does one maintain that much enthusiasm for and enjoyment of the possibilities of creativity and what can be achieved with a few pine nuts, mozzarella cheese and a bag of ice from the dairy up the road. And culinary delights is only one of his many creative outlets "I guess I gotta keep creating or I'll just die" - Jarrod

My fellow slouch has a theory that we are sum equals of all the people we have ever met. That everyone, from the people who raised us, to friends, to the person you talked to on the bus, all influence who we are - rub off on us a little. I hope this is true 'cos I wouldn't mind getting a bit of what Nicks got. I think that would make me a very lucky sloucher indeed.

NFB, the Autobot

For someone like myself, who has only really known Nick for about a year, it is nevertheless patently obvious why he is an Autobot, rather than a Decepticon. …Even if he does have pheromone levels that indicate he wants to mate with the female. Equipped as he is with the latest in Hospitality Hardware (including a Ginger Beer Brewery, Cocktail Factory, and Rapid-Deployment Dessert Appliance) he is the behind-the-bar life-o’-the-partay. Lately, I have also noticed he seems to have covertly integrated a Raspberry/Chocolate Liquorice manufacturing appliance since the racing season ended. Which is lucky for him, coz the way he was pumping that Monteith’s Black Oil the other weekend, he wouldn’t have been in any shape for driving! As you can see, Nick is a very giving Autobot. Indeed, he gives generously not only of his labor, but also of his humor, and, yes, wisdom, adding to that great Human data-repository, the Interwebs. He knows that freedom is the right of all sentient beings, no doubt about that.

PS: ALL HAIL MEGATRON!

Lazy Sunday

Nick, you have a desire to achieve the perfect balance of doing nothing or chillaxing (by the way, that is so Ponsonby) either in your spare time or while on holiday.

Being the type of gal who relaxes by doing stuff, I find this concept on “nothingness” quite intriguing.

But encouraged by your blogs, I will look to the master for some tips in an attempt to chillax.

Let’s take a typical day of rest – Sunday - also know as the Sabbath and observed by most Christians as the day of worship and rest from work.

Therefore in Nick’s footsteps I would raise before dawn to a mere 23.4km run before arriving for morning church all chillaxed. This would be followed by a spot putting your feet up before heading down to the local for a swim that would make me want to pass out.

Maybe in another life, if I was fitter, stronger and faster, I would be able to master this art of chillaxing and nothingness. In the meantime, I think I will stick with my keeping busy approach – it seems a lot less exhausting.

Have a chillaxing birthday Nick.

Love
Caths

What a load of rubbish

If you spend 5 minutes with Nick you know he’s a Ricky Gervais wannabe. Maybe it’s that Nick is rapidly approaching his 30’s that he sees a bit of himself in the master of cringe. Lets’ face it getting older means getting cheesier, you know it’s true. There’s nothing you can do to reverse the process. In fact the more you try to slow the cheese making process down the mouldier the cheese gets. As the ad says, “good cheese takes time”. Embrace it.

In some ways Nick is an easy target. He’s a living sitcom. The material doesn’t need to be written, the reality is even funnier. Often he relays stories to me, or in some cases other people tell me Nick Buck stories that seem ridiculous. His tenacity and haplessness combine to create the perfect comedy anti-hero, always landing perfectly on his Asics.

Happy Birthday Nick. It has been a great 25 years. You’re really only though the first season of your life so far. The move to Auckland in 2005 was a bonus Christmas episode.