Saturday, November 30, 2013

Shopping at the market

It was a gorgeous, sunny day in Melbourne today. It was just lovely, really.

We ate Vietnamese in High Street at Bang Bang. We parked in a 1/4 hour car park that had half an hour to go before restrictions finished for the day. The sun was bright. I watched for parking officers while I ate my broken rice.

We went shopping at Preston Market. We parked in High Street. There was suddenly a car park, so we pulled in. Some old guy in a Magna lurched out into the traffic and caused a traffic jam, still, it was good he wasn't driving backwards through a shop window, hey. Truthfully, at the moment we parked I wasn't at all sure how far we were from the market. I had an idea, but wasn't sure. I knew one thing, however far it was, it was better than doing the Preston Market cark park madness. Round and round you go.

There was a caravan of Middle Eastern food we wanted to try, but we were full from the Vietnamese. The Middle Eastern boy serving was cute, if chubby. I wondered if Middle Eastern boys have fat dicks? It was a very nice white clean food caravan though.

There was a gorgeous, smiley Asian boy selling the pork. There was a cute wog boy selling the beef. There was a handsome Aussie boy selling fish.

Then I suddenly wanted bananas, I'm not sure why. (none of those boys were selling sausages that I could see, but each one of them would have had nice sausages, I am sure)

We bought aloe vera juice, wasabi peas and jack fruit. We bought mangoes and cabbage and bok choi. 

"Threeeeee for a dolllaaaar!"

"Each booxx twwwooo doollaaars!"

The fruit and vegi call, you have to have a particular voice for it, I am sure. I like it.

I bought bananas at $1.20 a kilo. I bought water mellon and oranges too. Yum.

I love the hustle and bustle of the market. I like the hubbub, I like the noise. The woman covered head to toe in black hijab. The old wog men sitting at tables sipping coffee and chatting, like they once did in Fitzroy. The jostling. The couples. The students. The people munching on bags of take away, sitting and eating pizza squares. I keep saying we need to get one of those wheelie jeeps, rather than have the multitude of bag cutting into the skin on our fingers, but I never have bought a trolley.

The main road car park was a short walk back to the  car with our bags, under the blue, blue sky.

We bought fish for dinner, but we forgot the lemon, damn, which we remembered just as we got back to the car. Grrr!

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

These boys were cute... as they crossed the street in front of my car. I want to see them all in their undies.

I think I'm losing my charm at work

I woke up at 6am and went and had a piss. I glanced at the clock and was pleased with the time I had left to doze. I love that in the mornings, an hour to drift back to sleep, it is the best hour of the day. I was having excellent dreams, I wanted to get back to them. The sun was gently floating in through the window. Santo snored gently, like he does. I stood momentarily and gazed upon the scene. It is, perhaps, one of the loveliest moments in life. Oh how I wanted that moment to last forever.

The morning came around soon enough though, of course, as it does. Buddy came inside covered in dirt. He’s been rolling around in the garden bed up the back, sunbathing. That garden bed, unfortunately, is basically dirt mixed with the ashes from the fireplace that I empty there, perhaps, once a year. We brushed Buddy’s fur and a cloud of dust rose towards the ceiling, as we sat at the coffee table with out muesli and coffee. It is his new thing, sadly. Santo declared him an emergency shower situation. I could see a shower every second day during summer, if the dirt baths kept up. We’re going to was him tonight, apparently. I can hardly wait. I hoped Santo would forget about it, but that was unlikely.

It was a lovely warm morning. You could feel summer was around the next corner, if not here already.

At lunch time, I’m in the kitchen writing on my laptop. Its good. I get so much of my journal written this way, which I wouldn't get written other wise. Better than reading the newspaper. Well, if I go to lunch at 12.30 and the others go to lunch at 1pm, or 1.30. “It helps make the day go faster,” they say. Oh really, Cathy? (my minor boss) Cathy runs for an hour at lunch time, of course – oh god don’t strike me down for this – Christine goes up the local drive through for her lunch. (yep, she's fat) And I go back at 1.30pm. And they come back an hour later. I get to read the online newspaper for an hour. Two hour lunch time anyone.

I’m losing my charm at work, I can feel it. Cathy is a grumpy try-hard and I am putting up my defences, I can feel it. She’s hard work. She’s not particularly smart, but she makes up for it in dogged tenacity. It could well be a poor education, rather than lack of intelligence. She would never have been treated as the favourite child growing up, maybe she was the middle child. Maybe, she was even not liked by a parent, possibly her mother. (she looks after her mother now with bitter resignation) I think sCathy has a great need to be thought of as worthwhile, as we all do, of course, but her need is greater than most.

I’m sure she is just lovely when everything is going her way, but when it is not, I’m sure she is an unbearable, cranky bitch. (no, she is)

She’s also a drunk, freely admitted. And she and her husband like to think of themselves as food connoisseurs, even if I doubt she would know what connoisseurs meant… with her royal blue shag carpet in Bundoora.

I’m not really liking her. She has very little charm about her, no warmth to speak of, nothing really nice to offer. I think my time here is drawing to a close.

Christine reckons that Cathy is feeling unwell today, but she would never admit it. Christine says Cathy is cranky and probably needs to take a sick day, but she would never, ever do that. 

She has to move forward. She has to be seen as a winner. "So busy."

Christine is lovely. (my colleague)  I’d like to work with her. She is laid back and down to earth and really easy to work with.

The other day, Cathy complained of a dizzy spell when she was chatting from her desk to Christine, at her desk. Cathy had to take a time out and flee the office. I reckon Cathy is wound up pretty tight most of the time.

I was secretly hoping she'd have a brain bleed while she was splashing water on her face in the ladies, hitting the floor like a bag of shit never to get up again. But, I guess, that is a thought I should just keep to myself.

I don’t dislike her, don’t get me wrong, she’s okay, actually, she’s perfectly fine. I just can’t warm to her as a human being. She just simply isn’t my cup of tea. Whenever I meet people who are wound tighter than a cat’s arse hole, I just want to see them unwind like a Catherine Wheel, it is a fault in me, I don’t doubt it. I don’t mean strips of flesh plastered against the ceiling and the walls, like crazy paving chicken fillets, no. I guess I mean the noise of the relief, the actual relief, of getting done over by an entire football team, possibly, minus the football team, for those of you who are squeamish. But the final outcome of that teeth grinding, jaw wobbling occurrence. That is the “unwind” that I mean and that is what we all want to see, surely, in the annoyingly overwound amongst us. Blouse undone, hair ruffled, cigarette in the mouth.

Did I just wish her dead? I think I did? But it is me, not her. I just don’t think I have the temperament any longer for long term assignments. I think I get too paranoid and start to think that the employer’s “go off” me, start to dislike me, you always get found out in the end, and it kind of winds down from there. Of course, I have to find someone else to lay the blame on, naturally. 

I am sure it is as a result of being bullied by my old law firm. I’m sure I should have sued them for bullying and got some closure on that whole horrible affair. Then I should have had counselling.
I’ve got to fight against getting my back up against the (imagined) enemy, because even if I do it silently, passive aggressively, I am sure it still affects my attitude, even if it is in a minor way.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Are you sure you are gay?

The bulldog was put out in his kennel and I was just heading off to bed. I couldn't think of anything to write, so I was shutting down the day. The boyfriend had headed off to bed ages ago, (Do you like that, The boyfriend?) we all know how he likes to tuck himself into bed early like someone's old aunt fucking Agatha.

Then the exboyfriend skyped me and we chatted. Mark. He is back in Hanoi. He and Luke left on Sunday. He says it is very pleasant there in the mid twenties but, of course, it is heading into winter and not out. So it will be getting colder and not hotter.

I'd already spoken to another exboyfriend earlier today. Anthony. He went for medical tests last week and his doctor's receptionist called and asked him to come in. He thinks he must be dying of prostate cancer, even if he is, probably, too young for that. Of course, that is not promised, but it is still unlikely. He also had cholesterol and blood sugars. I cheered him up by saying he was most likely diabetic and he'd better get himself in there before he has a turn. The best would be high cholesterol, out of those three, I'm thinking, a course of pills and down it comes. So I've heard.

My brother, sister and I have cholesterol a bit on the high side, but we all have very high good cholesterol too. So I take fish oil tablets. I'm very on-trend. Ha ha.

Buddy must have heard me and he barked from his kennel, so I let him in again. Then, I was just taking a moment to think about the day.

I told one of the girls at work from another department that I was gay today, before I've told my own department. It is kind of weird to be going through that again. It is kind of odd that it is something we have to do over and over again. There doesn't seem to be an end to it.

I'm out to everybody and have always been. One of my favourite lines from a previous job was when one of the old receptionists sidled up to me and asked me very earnestly.

"Are you sure you are gay?" she asked me very seriously one day.

I remember thinking, what kind of question is that? "Yes, very sure," I said. And without thinking to much about it, I added. "I've had it confirmed on numerous occasions."

Her eyes widened and she smacked my arm and laughed.

I'm not sure how this job got away from me. It was a temporary job that developed into something more permanent, of course. I don't know why, but I didn't really think about it and no one has really asked me about my private life, directly. I don't know how that happened? I guess they talk about themselves. 

I don't tell my temporary contract assignments that I am gay, generally. I guess I got out of the habit.

It just came up today. P and I have been discussing food and restaurants. She seems to eat a lot of the places Santo and I eat. Today I was heating up Japanese curry for lunch. She guessed it was Japanese. She said that I must really be into food to be cooking Japanese Curry and I responded that I have a boyfriend who likes to cook. We discussed a few other things and then she'd heated up her food and she was gone.

Let's see how long it takes for one of my team to ask me.

One of the most beautiful cars

Bristol 403

Monday, November 25, 2013

Maaate... suck my dick

It was a bright sunny morning this morning. A pulled-back blond-haired gold sunglasses wearing pointy-face chick driving a grey 335 BMW convertible hurled herself around the my street/Gertrude Street corner accelerating quickly towards Victoria Parade, so hard that all of her engine values opened up, like I am sure her snatch did against the leather seats. She quickly caught the small Hyundai hatchback that had been in front of me at Gertrude Street, that had just managed to slip across Gertrude before blonde-fantastic took over the road. I caught up behind her when it took a while for the black hatchback to get around the corner.

She turned right somewhere and I left her behind.

As we crossed over Hoddle Street, all the morons were sticking to the right hand lane. Idiots. There are two lanes, you dicks. Sometimes it has its advantages, if all the lobotomised humans stick to the right lane, I could pull into to the left lane from behind the black Touareg and slip passed just about everyone on the road, even passed a big truck that couldn’t decide what lane it wanted to be in. I’m assuming, it was moving from the right lane to the left lane, but really, such lazy driving. I slipped passed it, no problem. The red Prelude finally decided it wanted to be in the right lane and not the left lane, so it took off after the other dopes, which then left the right hand lane relatively free.

I heard the diesel engine of the truck rev and could hear it engage first gear and pull up next to me. The cute wog boy in the hi-viz vest and beanie looked down from the open passenger window that seemed a whole story above me.

“Hey maate, didn’t you see the truck here?” He was trying to be really smart and threatening at the same time. That kind of cool threatening serial killer kind of tone.

“I’m sorry.” Oh spare me, you halfwit.

“Maate… have you ever heard of giving way to trucks?”

“Mate, have you ever heard of the left lane,” I pointed to my car, “and the right lane, I pointed at his truck. Why don’t you try picking one.”

“Maate, how would you like me to make your car a convertible.”

“Mate, I can’t hear you?” I was considering saying I couldn’t hear him to everything he said.

“How would you like me to make your car a convertible?”

I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “That would be great, maaate.” I wondered if the crow call mimic of his expression was too much. “I’d love a convertible.” But I am not sure if the big lug really got it. The traffic began to move and I zipped off the mark, while dick head and his boof head buddies shuddered to life in their 2 toner.

I glanced in my rear vision mirror to see the three idiots, three across in the cabin in Hi-viz vests in the Hino Truck. They looked like the old “not so squeezy” add. I bet they were enjoying each other’s pressure on each other’s thighs. The big closests.

The traffic on the other side of Church Street was banked back to the intersection and Larry, Curly and Moe were still right behind me. I stopped at the white line the next car to go. I waited to the last minute until the Church Street lights changed to orange, despite the traffic moving forward some what, and then I accelerated across leaving the big lumps to rub their thighs together as I left them behind.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Hello handsome

We took Buddy to the dog park. It was a lovely sunny day, sunny. Santo and I had played up on Friday night, and we needed to get out in the fresh air... for the first time… since Friday. The first thing I did this morning was to take two nurofens. Oh, other than lunch but that was just Hainanese chicken rice and Nasi Lemak.

When we were driving home, there was a bike rider coming towards us on the wrong side of the road, our side of the road. As I like to say, that is the problem with the world, the idiots.

“Look at this… “ and then he got a bit closer and I could see the square jaw and the stubble and the handsome face… “um… er… cutie pants.” …the piercing eyes, the olive skin, the small riding shorts, actually, I didn’t see what he was wearing, but a boy can embellish… You know, so what if he is on my side of the road, sometimes you just have to cut people some slack, he thinks to himself. 

Terrible isn’t it, in truth, that the way someone looks affects the way others react to them. 

Well? Um? Thinking about it, I guess not for the handsome.

What do we care if the beautiful get away with a lot more than we ever can? Good for them. Is it just jealousy? Or does the intrinsic unfairness of the situation matter? Or should we just suck it up?

Should we really give a shit because we now one day they will lose their looks and it will be relatively hard for them to cope?
I remember travelling around southern Europe with the amazingly handsome Canadian David and being told by gay accommodation houses, “The pretty boys don’t have to pay.” I guessed that just having David around would attract other gay men to stay in the establishments? I rode in on his coat tails... ta da.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Shopping at Chaddy. I guess Mr Muscles did catch me taking a photo of him judging by the look on his face?

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Busy busy. Ha ha. Ho ho.

What a beautiful day. Hot and sunny. I went for a walk to Victoria Gardens, alas it was to buy cigarettes. I had to quit again and I nearly made it today, but at lunch time I suddenly had this overwhelming urge to smoke, bad me. I was nervous about the work I have been doing.

It was very hot by midday, and I was sweating when I got back to work. It was hot with a blue blue sky, but also with a breeze. It was a perfect day, really. It would have been perfect if I had a Greek Island behind me and the Mediterranean in front of me.

As I walked back passed all of the lovely old Richmond warehouses there was a huge pair of shoes lying in front of one of them. They were huge, kind of comical, legs with shoes lying on their side.

It wasn’t until I got back to the office that it occurred to me to take a photo of them.


My job is so easy, amazingly so. I tried to have a meeting with my boss last Thursday to review the work I have done, thus far. It has been long overdue. In fact, I haven’t had much to do for the last week. Longer. My boss was away for some of those days, in the last week. I’ve been filling in the long days with very little. My journal, mostly. Oh, did I say that out loud? Anyway, my boss has been hard to catch up with. I don’t know what it is “they” think I have been doing. I stretched it out as long as I could because, quite frankly, no one seems to have been concerned about what I was doing. But it is boring not to be busy, of course.

I spend most of my day emailing Santo, backwards and forwards. He he.

I have been given a very specific role and I have done it, don’t get me wrong. I have done what has been asked of me, but I can’t proceed any further without my boss answering a few specific procedural issues. I can’t help but think it is the easiest job in the world.

Anyway, last Thursday morning I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. “Yes, I do. But can we do it after lunch.”


So I was waiting for him to say let’s go through it. Then there were dramas in the afternoon and he didn’t seem to look in my direction and say, “Let’s do it.”

Friday he was in Sydney.

Well, today, as we did the round table talk thing about what we’d been doing in our weekly meeting this morning, he responded to what I said I’d been doing with, “You were supposed to see me last Thursday but you didn’t come and see me.”


So, today I stalked him and made sure we had our meeting today.

“Sure he said, but can we do it this afternoon.”

“Sure.” I was a bit nervous as I know how hard I have been working.

I got to see him in the afternoon. I gave him two options that I had prepared for him. He loved what I had done. He was happy with the easiest of the options. He gave me a couple of things to be added to the work. He is now gone for the rest of the week. The couple of things I have to do now I should have done in a day. Easy. So again, what does he think I will be doing for the rest of the week?

Still, I’ll be gone when the assignment is done and I won’t be there when they have to update the project themselves, so I guess I’ll never get found out.

I’ve got three days to include a head count formula.

The truth is, as Cathy has told me a couple of times, the department was a very unhappy place and they were all threatening to resign, essentially, due to poor management from my boss. When I came in and did my first contract unbeknownst to me this was the state of affairs. I was asked back because I was competent… and, surprisingly, because I was funny, a breath of fresh air is how Cathy (my other manager) described it. I think mostly it was the competent side of me that they liked the most, but happy me had something to do with it.

I thought that was kind of nice. So, it is a finance/therapist kind of role that I am doing. Ha ha.

I guess what it tells me is that I probably need to stop being slack and get myself a full time job, rather than faffing about with contract work.

We ate rice noodles with pork belly and bok choi. Yum, yum. We watched all of the channel 9 comedies – The Big Bang Theory, Two Broke Girls, Two and a Half men. Then I watched Q&A in Mumbai when Nana S went to bed. I was in bed before midnight.

Monday, November 18, 2013

A sexy bunch of boys

The roads were quite busy with traffic, as I headed down Victoria Parade this morning. The sun was shining, the sky was blue. Monday morning.

A special mention has to go to the shaved head builder in my street with his pert, bubble butt in his dark blue work pants that fitted him so perfectly, having a bit of a stretch on the road side of his ute.

And another special mention has to go to the shirtless jogger in the short baggy black shorts with flashes of his red jocks showing, above and below his black shorts, with the amazingly sexy muscular legs, glistening with sweat running down Victoria Parade.

And another special mention has to go to the bike rider in Victoria Street at the lights looking back in my direction, still with his leg over the bike and his cute arse on the bike seat with the elastic of his undies showing. Very nice you pretty young man.

I don’t think I am normally such a perv, but the “form” on display, this morning, was difficult not to notice.
cool VW Fastback

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sunny Sunday

I was up at 8.45 with an aching wrist. I don’t know why? It felt like repetitive strain injury, but does that come on so quick? It ached with pain.

I wrote on my computer for a while. Actually, I read on line news. Then I tried to do some writing, but I couldn’t find my usb. I tried to sneak back into the bedroom, to get my usb and then return to my computer to do some writing, but Santo woke up immediately and then Buddy ascended the stairs and came snuffling into the room.

Then we were all awake… and I didn’t write anything. My morning writing was gone… oh well.

I made coffee and muesli, what was left of it. I piled on the bananas to make up for the lack of cereal. Then I did all the weekly washing, as Santo swept the back yard.

The sun was shining.

I asked Santo if he wanted to go to the dog park. He said yes. I messaged Jill if she wanted to meet us there, but she didn’t answer straight away.

Santo rubbed Tiger Balm on my sore hand.

We walked to Victoria Street and ate Vietnamese. I wasn’t allowed to take photos as Santo was in emergency food mode. I ate broken rice, Santo ate rice paper rolls with meats and we both ate a plate of mini Vietnamese pancakes.

Jill called as we ate, she got cut off as soon as we got connected. “Hi it’s me…” nothing. I waited for her to call back, she didn’t. I guess I should have called her, but I didn’t. I asked the question, she was supposed to provide the answer, I guess. The food distracted me. We saw her yesterday, the allocated shopping day. Santo wanted to go to Costco. I reminded him yesterday we mindlessly shopped.

We bought food for dinner. Santo threatened to buy bitter melon to make salad. I told him the only thing it was good for was a dildo. He made the purchases, I carried the bags. My sore hand held no sway. But it did hurt.

We watched the drug dealers do drug deals. The attractive Asian chick around 30, who I’ve seen down there before and who seems to do the supplying. Hair pulled back, beautiful eyes. And the big guy in track pants who looked like he has a cock like a horse. He handed over something to a guy in front of us, with that customary palm slide and then he seemed to take something from behind one of his teeth. Then it was over and he was back with the Asian chick, smiling revealing his missing teeth.

We walked home. It was a beautiful sunny day. I took photos.

I was talking nonsense on the way home. It started with a discussion about the pork bone we’d bought Buddy… and it went from there. “And then the pig police arrive and accused us of hog homicide and all we could do was oink and take our trotters out of our mouths.”

I said to Santo that I’d post it on Facebook and I bet someone would like it, as they do on Facebook. It makes me wonder sometimes if people even read what I write. I sometimes wonder if there is any depth to Facebook? It exists for a lot of noise to be released.

It was a sparkling day. Sunny, a lovely day to be out in it. It was one of those shiny, slip along with ease kind of days. Kissed by the sun and everything seemed stress free. The sky shone blue, the light was crisp and encouraging.

Santo rubbed more Tiger balm into my hand when we got home.

We walked Buddy down to Messina to buy ice creams instead of taking him to the dog park. Shrug! Wide eyes. Hands turned over in mid air. We also had a couple of things we’d forgotten to buy earlier in the day. Cat food and milk. The ice cream shop had a long queue out into the street, there were people every where. I think people are so bored now a days, they’d go to the opening of anything. We saw Gavin and Phillip who were inside. They came out with their ice creams, which I refused a taste of, but Santo tried. He said it was far too sweet. Apparently, it is meant to be super creamy.

I left Santo with them and went to Woolies. I had instructions to get milk and cat food. I wanted muesli and yogurt and bananas for breakfast. I impulsively bought cloudy apple juice. I bought three different types of muesli with the intention of mixing them together with the extra sultanas I’d also bought.

Santo thinks he saw the pit bull that attacked Buddy on Smith Street. The pit-bull was on a thick chain and it barked when it saw Buddy as though it still wanted to eat him. Of course, Buddy wanted to go over and say hello. The (presumed junkie) owner eyed Santo as if he may have recognised Santo. He text me in the supermarket to tell me. There was no sign of the junkie or his junkie dog as we headed home.

I made raspberry jelly with mandarin segments.

We ate pork belly and Bok Choi.

My hand only hurts a bit now.

Shopping in Victoria Street on this sparkling sunny day

Saturday, November 16, 2013

iPhone 5

I got the new phone. Santo has been telling me that he will give me some instructions on how to use it.

Ha ha, ho ho. It is a mobile phone, what is there to learn?

So this morning, I leapt right out of bed, I picked up the phone and pushed the button at the top to turn it on. I didn't have my glasses on, but I know the button is at the top, that much I can do.

I pushed and pushed, but the damn phone didn't come on. Then I realised I had the phone upside down.

Santo was sitting up in bed looking straight at me... with that look on his face.

Any way, time to take photos, for my blog, that is really what I wanted it for. Better photos. I don't care about communicating with anyone. If I could just turn the damn thing on. Ha ha.

Friday, November 15, 2013

No mobile

I've had no mobile phone for a week. Shrug, what is the big deal? 

Santo has bought a new iPhone 5S and I am getting his iPhone 5, mostly because I want the better camera. I had to cut down my old sim card from my Sony to fit the iPhone last Sunday, just to see if it would work, as my phone provider wouldn't provide me with a new sim unless I signed up to a new plan. 

I'm with Crazy John's which is now handled by Vodaphone. So I had to go to Vodaphone to get the new sim, but they wouldn't give it to me unless I gave up my much better Crazy John's plan that only has twelve months to run and sign up to an inferior Vodaphone plan for 24 months. 

Lucky for me the cut down sim works.

But after I cut down my sim last Sunday I couldn't put it back in my Android phone and I don't get the new phone until tomorrow.

I haven't missed the phone for a week. Some of my friends are amazed. Do you think we are too addicted to our mobiles? How often do you go somewhere now a days to see everybody looking down at their smart phone screen?

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Cats and dogs, Venus and Mars

I was doing labels for folders, at work, it was a quiet afternoon. I hadn't done them before, but how hard can they be? I ask you? I'm usually good doing such things. Some days, I don't care what I do, it is enough just to keep busy. I hate sitting around doing nothing, the day drags. I'm happy to help out.

I had to ask where the labels were. Then, as I was heading back to my desk, I asked, "Which way do they go in the printer tray?"

“Read the instructions, don’t be such a man,” said Cathy, pointedly. Christine tut tutted. A collective roll of the eyes, knowing (girl power) laugh.

“Oh, okay.” Funny how it is perfectly okay to criticise a man for being a man, but if you dared say the same thing about a woman? (I guess we do, however. Don't be such a girl. But that is usually a boy on boy comment) I get it, I understand the reasons why… men have a lot of bad behaviour to make up for… and I can take it, I don’t really care. It is just interesting the way society is going.

So the instructions were…

Place down up (tray)… scrawled on the inside of the box lid. 
I mean, how stupid of me for not taking in such definitive instructions. Would I dare to comment on the inexact level of female instructions? No, I would not.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Saturday, November 09, 2013


I went into the city to buy Christos Tsiolkas' new novel Barracuda. My favourite author. In Myer it was $32. In Big W it was $16. Half the price? How the hell does that work? I can imagine a few dollars difference, but half the price?

Santo was telling me all the whole time that I should buy it online and use his ebook reader. I scoffed at the idea. I still like the feel of the paper and the smell of the pages as a part of my book reading experience. However, it is actually a large book and heavy to hold up and I probably should have taken his advice.

Still, I wouldn't have had the Hong Kong style desert as a part of the shopping experience, if I'd bought it online.

Friday, November 08, 2013

Just say no

We talked about the latest sex scandal (as such) to come out of the armed forces, at work today. The young boy sailors who are being raped, or sexually penetrated, with pens or drink bottles on the birthdays, as a form of initiation.

J piped up (the youngest of the team and such a Charlotte, if you go in for Sex in The City character profiling) “Why don’t they just say no?”

A (the other HR girl, who I just think is great and who, from all accounts, thinks the same way about me) and I just broke up.

“If it is all the same to you…” said A, with big eyes. “I’d rather not.”

“Thanks all the same, but no,” I said, “But thank you for thinking of me…”

A and I laughed.

"We aren't talking about consensual sex," I said.

"Oh," said J. "Well how else would it happen..."

"They'd be held down," said A.

"By a group of men," I said.

"Oh, well that's not very nice," said J. She screwed up her face.

A and I laughed some more.

Thursday, November 07, 2013


We went to see Gravity at iMax. Santo wanted to go to the dumpling shop after the movie, but I wanted to come straight home afterwards and do more photo scanning. I know, pathetic. Oh I shouldn’t be so hard on myself… I know, enthusiastic. It is just a little one-eyed, I guess.

We had an hour before the movie started at 6.30 at the museum. I wanted to get kebabs which we could eat while we were walking to the cinema. Santo wanted to have Huxtable hamburgers. We opted for the hamburgers. The last time I had them they were small and expensive and ordinary. They are still expensive, but they were quite nice and a step above ordinary… but still kind of small.

Gravity was okay. It was nice to look at. Cool in 3D, even if I think my 3D glasses had seen better days. It was visually beautiful. But, still kind of American in places. Americans are not ones for doing subtlety generally, or believability, either. And I don’t really like Sandra Bullock, she has so little subtlety to her, or deft of hand at acting. She is very much a two dimensional actrine. Sometimes you have to play somebody else other than yourself. Sometimes you have to transform.

It was nice walking home in the cool night air. We watched Top Gear. I scanned more of my photos. Then there was the second episode of Top Gear on, I scanned, Santo headed up stairs earlier than his earlier than normal nana time, 10pm. I stayed up until midnight.

Monday, November 04, 2013

Working on my photos

Just before Big Brother came on, I asked Santo about the printer/scanner in my study. The new one, the one I have barely used as a printer and have never used as a scanner. I decided that I should give it a go to see if it could scan photos, or not. 

It was particularly an image of me, Mark, Lauri and Dean, in which we all looked handsome. The four of us looked great, actually.

It worked. WooHoo!

The images were sooooo much better than the grainy images I came up with last time I scanned photos on that other scanner that I used. Admittedly, that my have been 6 or 7 years ago and clearly the hardware/software has vastly improved. 

I also have Photoshop now and can work the images over well. 20th Century images being given the 21st Century software tweeks.

When I said that I’d rather stay in the study and scan than come and watch Big Brother, Santo suggested moving the printer into the lounge room, I guess, realising he may not see me otherwise for the rest of the night.

I stayed up late scanning. It was exciting to think that my photo collection could be completed. Instead of being permanently on hold, as it would seem it has been, due to so many missing negatives, I can now complete the missing images.

It is amazing how the images come to life when you view them on a computer screen and not in a sleeve in a photo album.

Saturday, November 02, 2013

Edna Krabappel

What a tragedy, the actress who did the voice of Edna Krabappel has died, and it has been decided that the character will be retired from the Simpsons because of it.

She is one of my very favourite characters. She is great. What a shame. She appeals to the cynic in me. She has made me laugh so much over the years.