Wednesday, March 01, 2017

At The Dentist

I went to the dentist this morning before work. I've never been frightened of the dentist, it just never occurred to me. It wasn't until I was an adult that I learned that people were scared of the dentist.

We talked about dementia, death and crime. I'm surprised how many times that I have heard just lately, from very different people, that an abusive childhood is no excuse for criminal behaviour later in life. Even mental illness, I've heard people say, "I'm sick of people using mental illness as an excuse for getting away with crime." It is kind of mean, an indication of how mean (or scared) (or stupid) our society has become. 

Still, the conversation was great, even if I could only contribute to a lesser extent, as you would understand. Fingers in the mouth. The suction hose, I love that sucking on my tongue. I love the water, all that water in your mouth on which you never gag as it is all sucked out again before you do. I love that. It's wet and fresh.

I just had a clean. That pointy scraper tool. Zzzzzz! I never have problems with my teeth. I had plenty done when I was a kid, before you say having no problems is why I have no fear.

I like my dentist, he's nice. He's a gentleman, very polite.

The morning sun

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Walking home in the afternoon sun

Monday, February 27, 2017

The Buddster is getting fat. He's actually put on 0.2 of a kilo, as weighed at his last vet visit, so he's not really getting fat, but he looks a bit chubby in this photo, I think. It is really just the angle of the camera and how he is sitting, but that didn't stop me being a bit surprised when i first saw it

Move Over Sport

I chose to sit next to a cute, presumably Muslim, guy with one of those Muslim beards, on the tram this morning. Are those chin beards Muslim beards? I don't know? He had a round, handsome face and gorgeous coffee coloured skin. He was taking up ¾ of the seat when I sat down, and he seemed reluctant to move over any more than would allow half my arse to hang off the seat on the isle side.

I readjusted, you know, did the "seat wiggle" as if to give him a hint that maybe there was some inequity in the seating arrangement as it stood, but no, he didn't relinquish a millimetre. Nothing. Not a shiver, not a flinch, nothing. Not even an annoyed glance in my direction. He was the immovable object and he clearly didn't care how much room I had.

I see, I thought to myself.

I pushed my thigh gently up against his thigh and felt how solid it was, how muscular, it felt really nice. Warm and strong. I think I even did one of those nose scrunches, just to myself, as I felt the muscles in his thigh. And then he moved right over giving me half of the seat. I gave myself a look of satisfaction, nobody saw it, but I felt it. A smirk, I guess you'd call it. Very satisfactory it was too.


Sunday, February 26, 2017

Street Art

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Fitzroy Street Art

Friday, February 24, 2017

Fitzroy Graffiti

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Public Transport Princess

There were, seemingly, just single trams trundling down Collins Street this morning. And I had to wait, what seemed like, an inordinate amount of time between cars. I'd just missed one when I first got to the stop, and then two eventually turned up at once, one from either direction, a number 12 from MacArthur Street and a number 48 from Spring Street. So, of course, they were crowded. We were packed in like sardines, once we eventually got on board. All the single trammies, all the single trammies, all the single trammies, all the single trammies, I sang to myself. I wondered, as I stood and gazed out the window at the city sliding by, why they were running single trams in peak hour? Shrug. It was a mystery.

There was a rat-face HR administrator, well that is what she looked like to me, sitting below my right arm. I knew the type, when I saw it. Truthfully, she was gorgeous, but the pained expression on her face made her appear otherwise. She was looking up at me, scowling. (Unaccustomed as I am to being scowled at) I wondered if I had spinach caught in my teeth. (I resisted the urge to check) No, I didn't really think that, but that is my favourite Miranda scene from Sex in the City that always comes to mind if somebody is looking at me quizzically. Was I unwittingly singing out loud? Alicia Keys, No One. It is a catchy tune, to be sure, but no, I wasn't.

Pursed lips. Big eyes. I looked down at her without moving my head, like one might, if one (had just notice a cockroach crawling towards one) hoped something in their line of sight might just go away. She had an expectant look on her face, as though she was trying to pass a kidney stone, that made the corners of my mouth curl up at the edges at that thought. She gazed up at me, as though she was about to speak. And as Catherine Tate's nan would say, I thought, "Oh, 'ere we go"

Then she was saying something, apparently, to me. My headphones blocked the sound, but I could see her lips moving, I could see the corners of her eyes scowling, I could see her eyebrows moving up and down, and I got the sense it was all directed at me. I felt a slight shiver up my spine and I thought, it is not going to get any better than this. (me with my cone of silence headphones) I just knew it. Feelings in my water, as they say. Clearly, she was addressing me and I assumed, I was supposed to be interested in what she was saying, nay, supposed to listen to what she was saying. So, I pulled my headphones from my ears.

"Can you change handles," she said pointing to my right hand holding the strap above her head. "It is just if the tram stops suddenly you might elbow me in the head."

My first thought was, Are you serious? My second thought was, should I check for hidden cameras, surely she is having me on, this is too stupid for words? By the strained look on her face, apparently, she was serious. "I'm sorry?" I said. (Resisting the urge to simply say, "Que?")

"If the tram stops suddenly," she continued in her more entitled than thou tone. "You might elbow me in the head."


Only if I aimed properly, I thought.

The woman next to me cleared her throat. Rightly, or wrongly, I took it to mean that she just couldn't quite believe what she was hearing either.

My next thought was, Suck it up buttercup.

My elbow was a metre from her head. I had more chance of getting her in the missionary position if the tram stopped suddenly than my elbow connecting with her empty head. That prompted a smile across my face, which I was very keen to stifle. I wondered if, suddenly, I was looking as constipated as she was. (Her nose seemed to be scrunched up as though she had smelt something nasty)

I looked at my elbow, then I looked at her head. "I'll be very careful," I said.

I put my headphones back into my ears. But she appeared to speak again. She continued speaking. Apparently, I had to listen to what she was saying. I exhaled, something Sam knows very well, and I pulled my headphones from my ears once again. 


"I'm really very nervous about your elbow," she said. "I think it would be a kind thing for you to do…" She pointed at the strap above my left shoulder. "To change hands."

"Apparently," I said. I proceeded to put my earphones back into my ears.

"No, don't do that," she squawked.

I could feel myself pull my head back and away from her, almost despite myself, as if recoiling from her.

"I really think you should consider this from my point of view."

"Yes, I have picked up on that."

I put my left ear piece back in.

"No, no, no, please just change hands and then we can all have a safe tram ride." She smiled, still, it was kind of nasty. Demanding.

I put my headphones back in. As I said, the tram was crowded and there was another person next to me, with their back to me, who was wearing headphones, who could not hear our conversation, who was taking up the space I would have needed to use if I was to use the other handle. Besides, princess was just being ridiculous.

She was then making faces, as though she couldn't believe me. She was gesticulating with her hands in mid air and looking at me as though her frustration levels were just too much to bare.

Oh princess, I thought. Maybe that was the first time anybody had, actually, said no to you. She was really beautiful, if she could have dropped the ugly attitude.

She clearly wasn't finished. She was indicating for me to listen to her again, so again I took my ear pieces out.

"I just want to tell you," she said as she stood up. Was she getting off, or was she going to hit me? "You are one of the rudest people I have ever had the misfortune to meet." Then she did a kind of pirouette, her gorgeous long hair flicking at me, and the other woman to my right, like the devil's fingers might do if Satan swished his hand in midair. The woman next to me, and I, did a kind of horizontal Mexican Wave with our heads to avoid the flying split ends. Princess turned towards the door. She had on skin tight black tights, so tight that you could practically tell if she'd shaved this morning, stretched across her perfect figure. She had on a very short black leather jacket over that. Her hair was perfect, her figure was flawless.

Oh, no you don't. I had to say something, I just knew it, her behaviour couldn't pass by without a comment, I knew that. 


"Hey luv," I said. I was somewhat taken aback by my camp use of the word luv, so clearly in public. I wondered if I was suddenly sounding like Mr Humphries on a tram? It was probably better that way, though, as I was too distracted by my apparent gayness to check the next thing that just tumbled from my mouth. My filter was down, to be sure, by this stage. She looked back momentarily, but long enough. I pointed with my chin. 

"You're a bit fat for that outfit," I said.

The woman standing next to me inhaled sharply at my quip.

"Like…" Princess open and closed her mouth. She now resembled one of those Japanese animations with those impossibly large eyes. “Whatever!” She swished her hair around again, the woman next to me, and I, Mexican waved our heads again, and Princess exited the car.

I knew the fat quip was, quite possibly, out of line in this day and age, so I gingerly stole a glance at the woman next me. She smiled, giggled even, so, rightly, or wrongly, I took that as approval from the sisterhood for my non-PC comeback.

I put my headphones back in. Alicia Keys sang, Where Do We Go From Here. I chuckled, conspiringly with Alicia. I got off at the next stop without making eye contact with any of the other passengers.