7.30am. We took Buddy and Bear to the dog park.
Cute blond guy was there with his two dogs, throwing the ball for which they eagerly wait between each throw. He’s got a big smile and floppy blond hair and a round, handsome face. He’s lovely really, such a boy, always with a smile and a laugh, always has a friendly, toothy greeting, fit and into exercising with his dogs. This morning he had on pale grey track pants. Sam and I walked around the reserve, as I did I was looking at cute blond guy with his pale grey track pants. I wondered if it was just me and I was just about to say something to Sam when he said, “Has he got a hard-on throwing the ball to his dogs?”
I don’t know if he left the house without his girlfriend seeing what he was wearing, if he’d had a big night and he’d woken up less than aware, I don’t know, but he’d clearly forgotten to put jocks on this morning. He seemed to be oblivious to the display he was putting on. He walked over grinning (as if he was aware) when he was done with the park and was heading home, it flopping around, like a baby's arm, with each step he took towards me, but he is a smiley kind of guy and that was how he normally greets us. It was hard to keep my eyes on his face.
“Hi guys, how are you?”
All the better for seeing you my friend. “Yeah, good,” I said. “How are you?” (I resisted the urge to say, How’s it hanging?)
“Great. It’s a lovely day. The dogs are exercised. I’m heading home for breakfast.” And off he went, dogs following along behind.
I looked at Sam, he looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Well,” he said.
“Good morning to you too,” I said.
My chores for the day were to cleaned up the front yard and to go and get a new scooper net for the pond so I could spend the day cleaning the pond. I swept the front yard in the morning, intending to throw all of the garden debris straight into the bin, but something really stunk in the rubbish bin, like there was something dead in there, and I ended up dry wretched all the way to the door after I flipped the lid open, eyes watering, heaving involuntarily. I can’t tolerate that smell of death, it just gets to me, that and the smell of mould. I stood on the front veranda waiting for the heaving to stop, wiping my eyes dry. I kicked the bin lid closed.
So, that’s not going to work. I had to open and close the bin really quickly between each panful of debris. Not so bad, it slowed me down, but soon the front yard was all cleaned up.
Sam came home at lunch time and cleaned the pond filter as it had clearly started to block up. It was full of shit when he pulled it apart. We are really asking the new filter to do too much cleaning a filthy pond, but we’ll see how it goes. The alternative is to empty the pond and replace the water something neither of us really wants to do.
We ate stir fried chicken and rice and veggie leftovers for lunch.
Jill has had all her boxes delivered to my place, as she thought that would be easier. I now have a hallway full of them. She messaged me to ask if she could have her car delivered here too. It is being trucked down from Queensland. I kind of thought, ‘really?’ initially. What the hell does one do with an extra car in the inner suburbs? Then I felt mean. Then I thought, she is in an apartment block in St Kilda Road. So, I thought that I could find a car park, surely. So, I said yes. Ah, I’ll squeeze it in somewhere, the mind boggles, that’s what friends do, after all.
Sam came home from work and cleaned the pond filter yet again and then we did a bigger clean up of the pond. He pulled out a lot of the spider plant hanging down into the water, and bucketed out lots of shit, which I tipped all over the garden as best I could. It is going to take us some time to clean it, it is that dirty, without emptying it completely and replacing the water. Still, at least the fish are no longer continually gasping for air.
We ate frittata for dinner, and very nice it was too.
I headed down Smith Street in the afternoon and shopped for the new pool scoop, surprisingly, the $2 shops only had cheap and flimsy scoops. Still at $2.50 who cares if we break it.
I watched (two friend’s names) wedding live on Facebook. Good for them. At least now, we can all stop hearing about it, even if the posts about it on Facebook seem to be never ending. However, we must be nearing the end of it now. I did post a “congratulations”, just because it is the right thing to do… not really because I meant it. It was more congratulations that we are all collectively getting to the end of it, more so than anything else. Oh, I did mean it, as much as I would say it to anyone. After all, I didn’t write, congratulations, you attention seeking whores. I mean that in a nice(ish) way, (it is really just my perverse sense of humour) nothing wrong with being a whore, (I was really good at it once. I remember counting up 20 guys in a month, one January, probably because I was on holidays. Big smile) and the attention seeking speaks for itself, which, I am sure, is needed to change society in the way you want it changed. (Do you accept that?)
I don’t have anything against gay marriage, despite what it may seem from what I have written in the past. If you want to get married, of course, you should get married, there is no reason in the world why you shouldn’t. I just wonder if it is all a part of our new conservative world, where monogamy is best and you save yourself for Mr Right, where sex is bad, and anything resembling sexual innuendo, and the like, should be avoided. You can’t say, or do, anything which may offend another person. The new conservative sensibility closes our world down and makes it smaller, it doesn’t expand our thinking. It makes all our possibilities less.
Would I get married? No. I don’t see the point of it. It’s a cliché, and a failed institution, in my opinion. Having said that, I guess if Sam was really keen I’d possibly consider it.
Let’s look at it in the hard reality of day, if there had always been gay marriage, and I was marrying Sam today, it would be my third marriage, and what does that say?
We started to watched the end of the first series of American Horror Story, then we started to watch the second series, but it proved to be just a little too freaky, it was a bit like horror overload. I’m more of your chick flick kind of guy, oh, not really, but if I had to describe my tastes in shorthand that is how I would describe them. I like real stories about real people, well written and well acted. So, we changed back to Grace and Frankie, with Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda, (Don’t have any more facelifts, Jane, you have had too much work done already) until I fell asleep on the couch and Sam said it was bed time.
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