Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Stupid barbaric backward Indonesia

Stupid Indonesia, proving why they will always be a barbaric and backward country. Idiots. President Joko Widodo is doing a Tony Abbott, a weak political leader using law and order to bolster his political standing. It is the sad way of the world. What are now, two good men are going to lose their lives in an attempt to enhance a politician's prestige.

Two reformed men are going to be killed despite their rehabilitation. And isn't rehabilitation the best possible outcome of imprisonment?

I don't buy that they potentially spread misery and death by their actions, that is an opinion that comes from a position of ignorance, from people who aren't realistic about drug use.

I think all Australian's should boycott Indonesia, even Bali. We should all stop going, if that is how Indonesia is going to treat Australians.

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

How now Browne Brown

It always amuses me when I see people with the name Brown with an "e" at the end. Browne. Is that the posh version of one of the plainest names around? 

Sarah Brown. John Smith. Tom Jones.

It's like spelling Jane with a ph, or Smith with a silent X.

A life less ordinary, all in the spelling of a name. How did it come to this, the bench mark being set so low? I blame reality TV.

Myickalah, is it?

The more ordinary the people feel, the more tripple sss's they will have. Or, I guess, the more ordinary the parent's felt the more weighed down with insanity their kids will become.

I once knew a Sssusan, I kid you not... although, she was middle aged so, I guess, her parents were pot smokers from the 1960s.

In fifty years we'll all have unpronounceable names and we'll be covered in ink. Nursing homes will be full of Rocketshipmoonunits who have been completely scribbled over. Just two blood shot eyes blinking out from a dark blue/black, filagree mask.

It's funny, the most radical thing you will be able to do very shortly is to be called John and have clear skin.

Monday, March 02, 2015

Ain't that the truth, honey

Sunday, March 01, 2015

Beck and Brett love Josh

Beck and Brett love Josh was written into the wet concrete in a driveway to a service station near where I live. It is inscribed with a heart. I look  it nearly every day when I walk to work. There was no date included, which is kind of a shame, as I love things to have dates, to know how much time has passed, to see where it fits into the scheme of the world, to visualise them. 

I always think about Beck and Brett and Josh as I walk passed. Was this a thought out inscription, or was it just a whim late one day? Who were they? What did they do? What did they mean to each other? Do they still love each other? 

Do you think Beck and Brett met Josh? Out one night? In a club. Off their faces. They took him home. All of their hearts racing? 

Was Brett straight. Was Josh straight? Was Josh gay? Did Josh fancy Beck? Did Josh fancy Brett? Was Brett always bisexual? Do you think they were both bisexual? Or was this the first time for all of them? Do you think it was confusing for two straight boys? Liberating? Enthralling? 

Was Beck the luckiest girl on the planet? Were they all very lucky? Do you think Josh watched Beck and Brett? Do you think Brett encouraged Beck and Josh? What do you think Brett and Josh did? Do you think Beck encouraged them? Do you think she watched.

It fills me full of hope for the world that three people who probably shouldn't love each other, did, do. Found each other. Loved. Hugged. Touched. Kissed. Caressed each other's hair. Slept in on Sunday morning exhausted. Washed each other's backs. Made each other breakfast. Met each other's family and blew all of their minds. Stunned friends? Negotiated a relationship that worked for them and left everybody else wondering, at least just a bit.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Fat Bronwyn

Obese Bronwyn suddenly shrieked today in the office, "Basement closed for urgent maintenance! OMG!" 

I jumped. We all jumped. Everybody looked around.

I wondered if she was talking about herself? I mean, looking at her, it is not hard to believe. Most days she seems to wear a black bedspread fashioned into a pantsuit/skirt dress/poncho/kimono/circus tent. That is the best way, only way, I can describe her fashion sense.

Then she rushed out of the office. Which is unusual, as the fat girls don't usually shriek and rush out of the office until much later in the year.

My mind boggled. Did the building shake? Did it? Or was that just me, my inner brain adding the sensor-round for the visual I was getting. You know, kind of a reverse motion sickness.

She came back some time later with a huge slab of chocolate cake, which she devoured like a fucking champion. It clearly wasn't her first day at the cake trolley. I walked over surreptitiously to be sure she was munching down a slab of chocolate cake that was big enough to feed a 10 year old's birthday party, when she looked up and I shivered in shock thinking she must have fallen after she rushed out of the building and knocked out several of her teeth, but it was only chocolate cake plastered across her pearly whites.

I wondered if she was stress eating, you know, with the immanent collapse of “her basement,” parenthesis in the air. Looking at her, I was surprised it had stood up this long.

It has been my experience that all Bronwyns are fat? It is a fat name.

It turned out The Basement was a cafe and that she was less focused on her pelvic floor than she was on her favourite food. Like we were all shocked. Nobody saw that coming. [big eyes]

They scream "big bones" or "dodgy thyroid" the big girls do, but generally that is not, actually, the problem. Generally, it has a lot less to do with genes and a lot more to do with slabs of chocolate cake, as was proved today, no matter what they say.

I am still laughing at her reaction, shrieking and running out of the office with her purse in her doughy hand. I think everybody jumped.

It was mind boggling, as Santo loves to say. It is his favourite expression. 

If you could harness the power of something coming between a fat girl and her chocolate cake, all the world's energy problems would be solved, I am sure.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Word Doodle

I wrote this as I waited for all of my end of month reports to calculate, print, download, save to a drive. It is basically a word doodle, what I do instead of picking up a pen and drawing lines and squares on a piece of paper, mindlessly.


An Iced Vovo is a fairy princess' panty pad. The fairy prince dusts off his marzipan jacket with icing sugar hands, before he salutes and smiles. White teeth squeak under candy lips.

My infected sores ooze marshmallow. I pick at the Florentine scabs with candy cane fingers. Cherries stick under my nails.

Malcolm fell down and spaghetti sauce leaked from his knees where he landed. Squish, squish. Spot the honey dog licks his filo pasty skin.

The crybabies eyes spurt lemonade, until they get so upset they vomit lime green jelly with caramel buttons. There is always caramel buttons.

When I lick the black boy he tastes of chocolate, his blushes taste of raspberry.

Edna Smith smells of custard, her failing brain cells feel like tapioca between my fingertips. She clutches her string of pearls which flake like chalk.


We all live happily together in Rainbow Town, where the sky is blue velvet and the grass green jellies, where box cars drive on liquorice roads and gingerbread trams run on gossamer tracks. The evening sky is a thousand year egg dome, the stars, cat's eyes, blinking in the night.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Do you think my phone is gay?


I was in the lift with my cute work colleague, the one with the hot arse, who is also a lovely guy too, that is the main thing, isn't it? Of course. I was fiddling about with my phone, hooking up my head phones and selecting music for the walk home when I accidentally took this photo. Thank the universe my phone was on mute. Not bad, huh? I hadn't looked at him from that angle before. Oh, who am I kidding, of course I have.