In The Gym

I’m in the gym in between exercises, sweating. I’m sitting on the Leg Press, the next machine for me to use. I see the other guys on their phones in between reps and wonder at what they are looking. So, this is my version.

There’s a couple of muscles queens here with me. Mid afternoon workout. I don’t if they suck dick, or lick snatch, truthfully, of course,  but all men in the gym look gay to me. It’s a very gay place. The shorts, and the exposed flesh, and the sweat. The dance music pumps. They are grunting and sweating and wandering about.

I'm just sitting here questioning my life choices, watching a big lad on his knees pulling a lat pull down cable over the back of his head, over his shoulders, I guess. I'm watching his eyes squint, and his guns tense, his moves ever so reminiscent of ballet, but that's alright, when I am sweating and puffing and panting and my t-shirt is wet and stuck to me, in the gym, I am always questioning my life choices.

Of course, I imagined him in tights, his short shorts gave me a good idea what that would look like.

I laugh to myself at the thought of using mind power to make him get up and dance like a marionette. There would be ambient Japanese music playing, for a lyrical performance.

The walls are painted dark blue, and there are virtually no windows, I wonder if that is deliberate, or just a matter of circumstance?

I look around the room. I wipe the sweat from my face with my towel. Does it work like a captive cell?

Anyway, shake my head, this Leg Press isn’t going to work itself. Gotta go.

Day Off

I had a day to myself. Sam went into the office. I took the dogs for a walk early. I bought a muffin. I drink 6 cups of coffee, one cup with the muffin. I lay on the couch after that. The bulldogs cuddled up. The sun shone outside. It was a gorgeous day. I ate leftover pork belly for lunch. I went and did grocery shopping, chicken and salad and eggs, as Sam was in the office. The day shone outside, bright and sparkly. I like spending a day on my own from time to time. I never get bored on my own. I didn't write. I told myself to write. Good thing I have another day off tomorrow.

Once I get on that couch, and stretch out, and there is no one to tell me otherwise, writing, nyr. Just relax, there is always tomorrow. Out the window. I was going to do what? I can't remember. Who cares. All my lazy senses kick in, don't you worry about that. Big stretch. Fuck everything. Ha ha.

There's a part of me that just wants to do nothing for the rest of my life, and there is the other part of me that fights that.

Numbers People

I pulled a whole bunch of spreadsheets together for The Midget. (Oh yes, I know, kill me now) Of course, I had to put them into a combined Adobe file, as The Midget can't abide a whole bunch of free and loose spreadsheets in an email. I numbered them, so she'd be able to sort through them more easily.

Just as I was completing the task, I noticed that I'd numbered them 1 to 15, but stupid me had left out the number 5. It went 1 to 4 and then 6 to 15. Oh well, it makes no difference, I think, it's just a tool to put them in order, the numbers don't, actually, mean anything, other than the order in which she should, probably, look at them, but even that is up to her.

So I pushed send on my email to her.

They were sent back to me with the note, You have missed number 5.

I explained it was just an order to look at them.

But you have missed number 5, she replied.

It doesn't matter, the numbers are just a guide...

Oh no, The Midget wasn't having any of that. A full-on OCD event was unfolding, Please re-number the spreadsheets and resubmit them to me, with a complete number sequence.

Seriously? I thought. OMG! I have to get away from these people, was my next thought.

Re-number them yourself, was, actually, my second thought, but, you know, years of working in the corporate world has taught me not to try that one... again. 😬

How do these people survive in the real world when things get tough, I wondered?

Oh yes, I know, it is kind of sad that this appears to be the most interesting part of my day. Grimace. I really need to look at my life.

Anyway, I re-numbered them with the number 5 included.

I was tempted to number them all with the number 5, that made me laugh to myself. Could you imagine? I so wanted to.

I was thinking about the clip, Number 5 Killed My Brother, as I hit send the second time. I don't know if The Midget has a brother, but I hoped so. I imagined a giant, bright yellow, plastic number 5 falling on him in a city street, his red blood splashing all over the yellow plastic, making red polka dots from the head wound from where the 5 first hit him. 

Then I imagined The Midget falling to her knees next to his lifeless body and wailing to the sky, "Oh why did I ask for the number 5" Sobbing.

That made me smile too.

Funny the things you think, hey?

In The Office

I had to go into the office, yesterday, Boris told me last week, as the IT department wanted to uninstall something from my laptop and I had to front up in person so they could do it.

So I headed into the office. Boris wasn't in, as it turned out, but the big boss was pleased to see me, but he's always pleased. He has that unwavering enthusiasm, but then, so might I if I got 500K a year.

So, Muscles, the IT guy, comes around mid-morning to say he had to do the uninstall and it would take about 10 minutes. I dither with my response and instead of saying, okay, yes, do it now, here's my computer, Muscles says he'd come back at lunch time, what time did I go?

He'd no sooner walked away when I told myself I was an idiot and that I should have got him to do it there and then, which he would have, as that was the only thing keeping me in the office, today, with Boris not in.

So, stupid me, I told myself.

Then I was scheming after that to get the job done sooner than later.

Anyway, as I'd got in early, I could realistically go to lunch early, and I was planning to go at 10.30am, which of course was too early in anyone's language. 

I had all my work done, so I had very little to, actually, keep me occupied. At least at home, I could do my own writing. Oh, I'd find something, don't worry about that.

It seemed like hours passing progressing from 10.30am. At 10.55am, I couldn't wait any longer and I headed around to Muscles office to tell him I'd started early, which isn't a stretch as when I start early, Muscles is usually the next one in after me, so he knows I start early, not that I had to prove anything to him, of course, but it is true none the less.

He looks really busy when I see him with a laptop under each arm and his phone in his hand.

"I'm going to lunch, as I started early," I say.

Even with everything in his hands, he still managed to flip his wrist around and look at his watch. "Okay, then. You go for an hour?"

"Yes," I say. Again, I chastise myself, why didn't I say half an hour.

I go get lunch. I sit in the lunch room, instead of at my desk like I usually do, giving Muscles full rein of my computer.

I finish my lunch in 20 minutes reading the hardcopy newspapers in the kitchen. I walk back to my office 25 minutes later. I see Muscles walking away from my computer.

"You done?" I say.

"Yes." He comes back to my office and gets me to sign in and he checks a couple of things.

"All done," he says.

Free, I think.

I go wash my coffee cup. 

On my way back, I see the Grand Poobah in conference with The Midget in his office, and I figured they wouldn't notice me any time soon. So I shut down and pack up and get out the door in record time, like a bandit, still when it is morning, only just, but still morning.

I was hoping The Big Poo and The Midget were in conference for the longest time, you know, quarterly figures, some shit. Also hoped they wouldn't need anything from me, unlikely, but so what, what if they did, I thought, as I motored up Collins Street and away. They won't. Too late, anyway.

My Kindle

"There!" Sam exclaims.

"What?"

"There!" He points down the side of the couch with his chin.

He needed a torch to show me what he'd found.

I look to where the torch was pointing.

"What?"

"There," he repeats, like that clearly, um, clears it up.

"Oh, great."

There was my Kindle, down the side of the couch, between the bookcase and the side table.

"See!"

"Thanks honey, you are great."

"I knew I'd find it first try," says Sam triumphantly. I guess that was proof of something, which escaped me right at that moment.

"Well, no, I didn't look down there," I say. I hoped with a tone that indicated that my very actions were that of a reasonable man. i.e. nobody would have looked there.

And, I don't think Sam could quite understand why I hadn't found it, in the slit of a space between heavy furniture in the dark, almost entirely obscured.

I didn't know why I didn't find it down there either.

Of course, it is Sam who takes my Kindle and puts it on the side table next to the couch out of the way when he cleans. The same side table our bulldog just loved to climb under when he was a 10 kilo puppy, which now he can only fit under by causing volcano like vibrations as he squeezes his 30 kilo body through the same space, causing everyone to make a grab for whatever is on the coffee table before it all hits the floor, but I didn't mention that, I was just pleased to get my kindle back.

YouTube Junkie

Take no notice of me if I make any comments about TikTok junkies, disparaging, or not, as I am a YouTube junkie. It's true, I know it.

I can spend hours, mindlessly...

All day on the couch, not problem. I like it too much.

I guess you could say it's a problem, in a sense. 

Yeah, sure it is. But then, so is global warming, and no-one is really taking that seriously.

Sunday, fuck it! I'm watching my favourite Canadian car restoration show.

"Hey, Mr Trump, let me put it in words you will understand, fuck off."

And tomorrow is a public holiday.

It's not productive. YouTube.

I read a short story this morning, The Feminist, it was good too. Reading a short story is productive, I can feel the inspiration soaking into me. I must write more fiction. Do it instead of watching YouTube.

I must find my kindle, I've misplaced it somewhere, which doesn't help me put down YouTube and read, let me tell you.

Now, where did I put it? Where did I put that damn thing? There can't be that many places where it would be. Surely?

Saturday, Day One Of The Long Weekend

It’s a beautiful sunny day. What to do? Sam seems keen to do something. I’m a lazy bastard though, of course, I'm happy to do nothing. We all know that. But, I'd better do something, I've learned that too, just do, you can always be lazy later. There is always later.

Should we go to the dog beach in Altona? We'd talked about that recently. Let’s hope it’s different to the Brighton dog beach, which always feel is a bit like a slightly out of control Wild West. I look up details for the Altona dog beach, it’s not clear if it’s restricted at this time of year or not. I find which beach is restricted but that doesn’t seem to be the dog beach. Even though the blurb for the dog beach does say it has certain restrictions in the warmer months, I can't seem to find it. Suddenly the beach seems too hard. Go all that way across town and then can't use it when we get there, ah no.

So, we decide to head down to the river, take a bucket of balls and throw them on the grass. So, we get in the car and head to the Yarra. The new bike path, while it seemed to have very little movement there for a while, has certainly progressed now. The whole raised path is nearly all the way up the river bank embankment.

We throw balls around until midday. Brun is always keen to keep throwing balls. Otto eventually goes and lies in the shade under a tree,

There are gay boys with French bulldogs. There are lesbians with Puggles. There are all kinds of Oodles, whichever type they are. There’s a couple with a picnic blanket and food with cattle dogs, who look like they are trying for something romantic. There’s skinny, sickly looking yuppy types with Jack Russells, no doubt vegans. Ha ha.

Then we go do some grocery shopping after that. Brun, Otto and me, er, I lay around in the entrance to the shopping centre on the cool black tiles whilst Sam shops. The sun shines in the street beyond the canopy of the shopping centre entrance. People stop and say hello to the Bulldogs, many people stop. I write my journal.

The three of us sit on the floor together.

Pretty soon, Sam reappears with bags of shopping. We head to the Asian grocery across the road where Sam does some more shopping. A mother walks past with a pram and her two sons in tow, one of which has his focus glued to his phone, so much so he doesn't see the dogs until the last minute with a start.

We head to the butcher. The last stop is the banh mi.

Then it’s time to head home. The day just sparkles as we head to the car. It is really quite lovely wandering back up the street to the car.

We eat pork rolls, when we get home. We take lunch home for Charlie. Then we eat a fancy chocolate dessert, which is really too rich for our own good, and drink coffee to wash down the rich chocolate taste. Then we lay about rubbing our stomachs.

And then we just relax for the rest of the day.

Still, two more days to go of the long weekend, makes me smile.

We did discuss America's new piece of shit president, of course, you can't get away from it at the moment. His compulsive lies. His unmitigated cruelty. Him walking away from the nothing but verbose promises he made. We're still completely baffled how someone, who tried to steal an election he lost, and when his attempts to steal it didn't work, he organised his thugs to attack the very seat of American government he craved to stop the real winner from being certified, can be put into power in the next election. Are American's that stupid? It really is the only logical conclusion the rest of the world can come to. Really! Stupidity? A failure of education? What else can we all think?

Sam is fascinated by Elon Musk's Nazi salute. So, we talked about that a good deal of the time. Musk backs far right political parties in Germany and Britain, amongst other places. His family, allegedly, has a history of Nazis. And yet, some conservatives attempt to write it off as some kind of awkward twitch.

I think it's probably because he never had any friends, and now he'll do anything to maintain his word wide audience. He really is just a sad little clown deep down, it would appear. I can't help but see him in Pierrot clown's makeup whenever I look at him. You can't help but think that everything he does is a sad cry for attention. Look at me! Look at me! I wonder how long it will be before he flames out, or is locked away in an institution, probably rehab, but could easily be a mental hospital.

When I got sick of all the political talk, I listened to one of Marcia Hines old albums.

I watched crazy Karen YouTube clips. I don't know why they are strangely satisfying, but they are. And when I really enter into the waste of time olympics, I get into road rage videos. How to let the afternoon roll away swiftly on the couch watching morons and halfwits.

This is what I woke up to this morning, bleary-eyed in the semi dark, hogging the bed space. Good thing we have a kingsized bed, hey? They like their space, they take it, push us out. They have no concept of boundaries.

They don't get up early, they are not early risers, the two of them. Brun using Otto as a pillow, too cute. It makes me wake up with a smile.  But that's what they are, smile makers, that's why we have dogs after all, they make us smile.

Exercise Improves Your health

It was my last meet up with my trainers today. I rode my bike there, of course, it was nice. My last trip to Prahran. I liked the ride, through parks, mostly. Keep away from cars, as much as you can, when you ride, it's the best way.

I met up with girl trainer 2. The head of the program was there too. We did all sorts of tests, on an exercise bike, hooked up to a computer with wires all over me, breathing apparatus attached to my face, plus a blood pressure cuff. 

The conclusion was my fitness is significantly improve to when I started this process 6 months ago, improved because of my willingness to engage in exercise.

They said I had been a star pupil.

So, it proves that even moderate exercise improves your health.

Now, I have to continue with my exercise routines, on my own.

I'll have a 12 month review, after which I will be entirely on my own.

I rode home with a certain sense of achievement, which I guess it was. Had. It felt good. A great improvement, they said. So, it had all been worth it then, I had to think. And my ongoing exercise program was worth it too.

It felt like the end of something, which it was, I guess, kind of. I don't know why I felt a kind of nostalgia, silly really. I guess it was because I'd enjoyed the process. I liked girl trainer number one, as well as girl trainer number two.

Who would have thought I'd be doing gym again after stopping however many years ago, I thought, as I pushed my feet on the bike pedals, the tyres making that crunch sound bike tyres make on gravel paths. I guess it was now going to be ongoing. I don't love it like I did the first time around, but I don't hate it. I wonder some times if that's the best it can get? It's good, though, I thought. Good enough.

Today is my gym day, I thought, but I guess I'd done enough working out for the day, so I guess I wouldn't be going to gym today. Not really ideal after getting a good report card. I laughed to myself at the thought. The park path stretched out in front of me rising up in a sweeping incline to the other side of the park.

Karma

I love hearing people talk about karma. They speak of it as some sort of natural retribution phenomena. It is like some sort of magical evening-out mechanism. It is something that puts the occurrences in the world into some sort of natural order.

If you do something bad, karma is going to come for you. Really?

No, there is no such things as Karma. It might make people feel better about themselves and their place in the world, but no, there is no great magical hand ready to sweep across the universe and put wrongs right.

I just don't think people think about these things. (But then, it's good for a laugh, people's naivety) Look at it, there are too many cunts in the world getting away with shit for it to be even remotely true.

The only karma-like response that might happen maybe a reaction to the negative energy you might put out in the world. If you exude negative energy all the time, you will probably attract negative energy back to you.

If I steal something, and nobody knows that I stole it, there is no karmic debt coming for me. Nothing. There is no great spiritual entity keeping tabs.

Maybe, if I am aggressive and rude and generally toxic to all the people I meet, then yes I am probably going to attract aggression and rudeness and toxicity back to me, so there is some kind of karmic debt coming in my direction, in that situation. Most likely. I would attract it.

If I committed the perfect murder, and nobody knew I'd done it, there is no karmic debt.

If I go around killing people, like a serial killer and people know it is me racking up the body count, there is a very good chance someone would kill me.

If I steal from the deaf & blind and the sick, you know, even terrible things, and the deaf & blind and the sick, don't know, and I get away with it, no I don't have to be afraid of any karmic debt.

Thinking that the natural order of the world would eventually catch up to me for my bad deeds, all other things being equal, is just magical thinking. I know it probably makes people feel better about themselves and their places in the world but, no, there is no natural balancing out mechanism in the world. People are weird who think so.

When I do something terrible, of questionable moral value, even when I put mangoes through as potatoes at the supermarket, for instance, and worse, I never tell anyone, I never tell a soul. I guess that is one way to guard against karmic retribution.

The National Day That Only Some Of The Population Enjoy

Boris said I had to come into the office on Monday - you see, I told you shouldn't have mentioned it yesterday - something about IT needing to do something with the software on my laptop. Then she corrected herself quickly by saying it was a public holiday on Monday, so I had better come in on Tuesday.

"It's a public holiday on Monday?" I question. Really, I had no idea what it was. I was quite surprised at the suggestion.

"Yes, it's Australia Day," says Boris.

"Oh, are we still doing that," I respond.

"Yes," says Boris.

I guess we have to give the white conservatives a day to do something with their Australia flags and their Southern Cross tattoos, I thought. 

I didn't say it, so there's a gold elephant stamp for me, you know because the conservatives don't like being called, ah, er, racists. 

Funny how you can be one thing, but not like to be called what you are. They hold racist ideas, or ideals, and yet they don't like being called racist? What does that say? They know deep down it is wrong? And they are just too selfish, or stupid to do anything about it?

People are funny.

And it was probably a little too political for work conversation.

Funny how you can have a national day that only a certain percentage of the population celebrate, it doesn't really make it a national day, now does it, no matter how you look at it.

 

Monday

I don't know what to write? It's Monday. And we hate them, as the famous song goes. Er! Fall back into reality with a clunk! Oh, here I am, again.

I was up early, as per usual, 6am. Just me and Milo. The bulldogs aren't early risers. Milo is pretty damn keen for some attention with the two red bullies out of the picture, he almost prostrates himself on my desk. It is a good thing The Cat Council isn't here to witness it, I often think, he'd lose his whiskers.

I made coffee and signed into work. I got going, at it as the day was becoming light.

Still nothing has been said about me not fronting up to the office. I guess I shouldn't keep mentioning it, I don't want to draw the dark energy to me.

David would be very pleased with that, what could almost be construed as an admission to a belief in his magical thinking. He’d be right onto that. 

“See you do believe,” he’d say.

“Nah, luv, just sayin’ it for your benefit,” I’d say. “Load of bollocks.”

Anyway, I was thinking about it today, not going to the office, not David’s nonsense, my, what could almost be called, passive aggressive stance on it, well, what can my boss do but crack the shits with me, really, when I think about it.

My neighbour, Jackson Wag, says I should resign. His eyes positively twinkled at the thought. He said he hasn't had a job for 25 years. (He's go rental properties)

Because I don't work Thursday or Friday, Mondays keep me pretty busy as a rule, just catching up with what everyone wants. Today was no exception.

Too hot to take the dogs for a walk in the arvo, so it was just wheeling the portable aircon into position in the lounge and taking up a couch at 4pm. Sam took them for a walk this morning anyway, before it got hot.

That was it, that was today. This Monday. Done. It will never come again. Ever. Weird to think.

I was listening to Brian Cox. The planets and the solar system were around for a billion years before life started on earth. All those planets, all of those solar systems, just empty, no life. Nothing to witness their existence. Seemingly, no reason to exist at all. Weird to think.

Head To The City

5.15am. I was up. It was still dark. I join Milo on the couch. He's very happy when the two red bullies aren't up.

There is no milk for coffee, I'd go and get it but the supermarket isn't open yet, so I just have to make do with reading the Guardian.

Lost Ella Fitzgerald recordings to be released – including her take on 60s pop. Oakland concert recording from 1967 features jazz standards alongside unheard Fitzgerald versions of the era’s hits, including Alfie and Music to Watch Girls By.

I read about Ella Fitzgerald. I take another look at her wonderful Mercedes, her 1959 4 door Cabriolet.

6am. It is turning light outside. I lie back on the couch and get more comfortable.

Everyone thought it would cause gridlock’: the highway that Seoul turned into a stream. Cheonggyecheon stream in the South Korean capital has become an attraction – and helps with flood management, fighting air pollution and cooling the city.

I don’t mean to paint badly’: accountant inundated with commissions for ‘terrible’ paintings. Jamie Lee Matthias’s art becomes popular with social media users after seeing his ‘talent’ in portrait of wife.

No coffee and I am, unusually, very hungry and I kind of find it hard to relax, with that hunger niggling at me constantly.

I open my emails

I read a poem called Day of the Dead by Peter Balakian. 

I write my journal.

I catch up my blog workbooks. (I’ve always kept a word document of my blog posts)

7.20am. Sam and Otto are up. Sam complaining about Otto’s habit of sleeping with his head on Sam’s pillow, effectively pushing Sam off it.

Sam dreamed that Otto had faulty gene and the breeder wanted to take him back.

I tell Sam he has to go to the supermarket and get milk, as I need coffee. He tells me to go. I think he thinks that he pays more in food than I do in bills now a days. I don’t really know that. He says everything has gone up, but wouldn’t that apply to bills too? Surely. I resist and a little later I hear the front door open and close.

8am. Sam is back with two shopping bags full of shopping.

“Lovely,” I say.

Sam gives me a look/coy smile.

I make coffee and vegemite toast.

We’re going to have haircuts this morning. I’m keen to get going to get it over and done with, but Sam likes to pair it with lunch, which is a good idea, so we wait.

After breakfast, I got up on the roof and chopped down the creeper. It climbs up the side wall and then up onto the parapet and then it blocks up the box gutter up there, which will rot out if I don’t keep it cleaned out. I haven’t done the chop for a couple of years, clearly.

It was hot up there, in the summer sun, even relatively early, so I have a shower.

10:59am. We walk the Bulldogs into the city for haircuts.

The sun is shining, the sky is perfect blue tile over our heads. It really is a lovely day, lovely for a walk into the city.

Brun balks at the in front of the Imperial Hotel, where there is a group of people congregated on the corner of Bourke Street. I don’t think he wants to walk over the metal cover to the cellar. As he and I do a big circle to avoid the cellar cover, one of the women of the group gathered says, “just gorgeous.” Of course, I could think she was talking about me, but she was talking about the bulldogs.

We get to the hairdresser in Bourke Street. Sam goes in to have the first haircut. 

Initially, there are two guys sitting on ‘our’ seat, in the street, where we always sit. Annoying, I think. But, pretty soon, one of the guy’s wives turns up and they leave together. Brun flops out on the footpath in everyone’s way, of course, as I take the vacant half of the seat. The other guy eyes me, suspiciously, more so the bulldogs, truthfully.

He looked at the bulldogs. He looked at me. He looked in the opposite direction. You’re on my seat, mate, I thought.

I watched people walking past in Bourke Street, rather than look at him, possibly, looking at me, again. I'd hate to hear myself apologise. I wrote this.

Sam is out quickly, suddenly appearing next to me, telling me to hurry on in there, the reason for which I didn’t quite catch, but I hurried in none the less.

A moment later, I am in the chair, as the ugly/cute guy, who I prefer to cut my hair, is unusually free for a Saturday. (The reason for Sam telling me to hurry, clearly) He’s not very chatty, ugly/cute guy, something else I prefer in a hairdresser.

Seven minutes later, I’m done.

I head into JBHiFi, oh, just to have a look and the David Bowie section is empty. How could this be? Life is over as we know it, if David Bowie no longer means anything, I think.

Midday. Sam goes into JBHiFi.

While I am waiting outside, a chick sitting next to me talks about the bulldogs asking how long they live. 

“10 years on average,” I say. “But my last bulldog was a month off twelve.”

“It’s never long enough,” she says.

“No, I could have had another 12 years.”

Then she tells me that I’ll see them on the other side. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet him again.” 

I probably would really respond to this normally, but she says it was such an intensity that she’s trying to convince me holding my gaze, and I think another disillusioned idiot.

“No,” I say.

“You will, it’s okay.”

“No,” I say. “There is nothing after this.”

“Yes, there is,” she says.

“No,” I say “it’s not.”

She tells me to watch someone on YouTube, Matt someone, he’ll change my mind.

“What?”

She repeats his name. This was the evangelical bit, I thought.

 “I don’t need to watch anyone on YouTube.” I tell her. “There’s nothing after this.”

“Yes, there is,” she says.

“No, this is it. This is all you get,” I say.

She didn’t wanna talk to me after that. Pretty quickly she meets a friend. I’m too busy writing our conversation down in my journal to look up.

We’re at Momo Central Napoli‘s restaurant Bourke Street eating a platter of dumplings which are great. We’re sitting outside. It’s a lovely warm day. The sun is shining. We put the umbrella up, mostly because it blocks our view of each other when it is down.

Before 1pm, we’re walking back up Burke Street towards home.

Half an hour later, we’re home.

It is quite a warm day. 26 degrees.

We do couches and screens.

We drink coffee and eat cinnamon donuts.

Sam goes to the supermarket. He is returning his bone broth sachets, 3 of them, he bought for the dogs, one of them he’d opened which he hopes to also return. Coles wouldn’t take back the opened one. Funny about that.

Midafternoon, we’re eating frozen mango desert balls. They are good.

(If you think that diet at the end of the day sounds a little iffy? I guess it was, but it was good)

Give Me The Shits

I'm back on Ozempic as it did keep my blood sugars in the correct range previously. High blood sugar probably had something to do with the heart thing in July, so...

But the bowel problems have started again. Grrr!

The surgeon who did my colonoscopy says it is constipation caused by the Ozempic, a common side effect, apparently, and I have to take constipation meds, which I have been taking since Tuesday when I started taking Ozempic again, and here it is 3 days later and nothing. Zip. Nada. Oh, a couple of slivers, which I have had to work hard to get out, risking an aneurysm kind of difficult, but nothing really. Still practically just a vacuum, not the sucking kind, no chuckle, as in the airless kind.

15.01.2025

Okay, so I was being far too timid with everything, the story of my life really. If I'd been far less timid with my professional life, writing life, share market life, my life would be completely different by now, not that I want it to be different, to tell you the truth, kind of happy with how it is, but you get my point... however, I digress.

So, I had to read all the instructions again, er, um, read them for the first time, let's be honest, and I realised I can up my dose 3 fold - of everything - to make it all work. Cross your fingers.

16.01.2025

Okay, I went to see my nice pharmacist in Brunswick Street to see if he had any alternatives I could try, to get it all back on the normal shit show. And while he couldn't offer me an alternative, he did tell me I could double up doses at the same time. And that I was doing the right thing, with shit meds, fibre meds and hugely increased water intake. Okay, good to know.

17.01.2025

I have tripled my fibre treatment, by reading the instructions, who'd have thought.

So it is, continue with what I am doing and don't be afraid to dose up.

And it is working, kind off. At least it now feels like something is happening down there, and not like before when there was just nothing, nothing at all, you know, zip, niente. (blow your cheeks out as far as you can keeping you mouth closed and that's how it felt before, trying to take a dump) It's a little bit, but at least it is something. There is movement. Something is happening. Worms.

The diarrhoea hasn't eventuated. And I can fart with confidence. And it is kind of back to normal, kind of, sort of, an improvement on what I did have.

18.01.2025

Anyway, as much as you all wanted to know all of that, I must go and drink some more water.

Yeah, sure, there is the weight loss aspect to this, it does take your appetite away quite considerably. And I have lost some weight, 7, or 8 kilos, and that's good, but it is a hard way to lose kilos, with the side effects. I reckon, and I wouldn't take it if I didn't have a medical reason. In fact, if the above doesn't get better, or sort itself out, I'm considering stopping it. I wouldn't, probably, choose to do it, as such.

Perfect Timing

My dog was sniffing me outside Coles. He was sniffing with quite an intensity. 

Snif, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff.

Oh, I don't know what possessed me, but I leant down and said to him, "Do you want me to sniff your arse?" I said. "You'd like that wouldn't you." You know, it's a doggie thing.

I thought it was funny, it amused me. Passing time, while we were waiting for Sam to finish shopping, what can I say.

But when I looked up, an old woman who had just come out of Coles just with perfect timing to hear me. She was giving me the most horrified look. Her head rotated as if on a swivel as she walked past me, not taking her eyes off me.

Oh, but, but, but... I thought. It was a joke.

She looked behind at me keeping her eyes intently on me still with her mouth open in astonishment. She looked like she thought I was a complete pervert.

Then the whole thing just made me laugh. Ah fuck it! Who cares?

In The Gym

Mid afternoon, I'm in the gym, finally, after being given a pep talk from girl trainer 1 & 2, effectively. A sexy boy in black with a big gay beefy arse comes in and works out, as I am on the exercise bike at the beginning of my workout. Often the muscle bound guys don’t really do anything for me, sometimes, but not usually. This guy was gorgeous, in his baggy black knee-length shorts and tight black singlet. And even a bit of a mullet, kind off, but not really. Short at the front, certainly. Nice strong face.

Later, after I was done on the exercise bike, I'm doing the seated row right behind the cute boy in black, who is bending over doing a pull down exercise over his shoulder with his big beefy butt pointed directly at me, so much so that I could practically smell what he had for breakfast. The elastic of his undies contoured over the heart shape mounds of the top of his butt cheeks was sexy as. Muscly legs. Well developed calves. Finely covered all over with hair. Grunting with each pull down, which I could imagine how he sounded when he… you know. Nice.

What was I thinking not coming to the gym, I think. I giggle to myself as I head over to the free weights. 10 kilos hand weights. Where is the bench?

Back At The Gym

Well, you know, not that I exactly thought I was getting away with anything, far from it, but I hadn't been to gym for a few weeks. Over the Xmas period, you know what I mean. Taking time off - even if I actually only had two leave days, in fact - Xmas and all that. It just seemed like what was the 'go' if you know what I mean?

Anyway, that's what I'd done, taken a, erm, ah, cough, cough, a few weeks off from the grim, er gym.

Not that it had gone unnoticed by Sam, oh no, I wasn't getting past that one, he'd mentioned it numerous times, except, he was talking about it from a financial, it being deducted from my bank account on a fortnightly basis and if I wasn't going to go I should at least stop the payments.

Well, girl trainer number 2 called me to check up and see how I was going, and, you know, I can't tell lies, having realised at a young age that I was so good at lying and that it never did me any good, not in the long run, you know, if you don't want to be a fake, but I digress, so I told girl trainer number 2 that I hadn't been doing training.

"Oh, it's just a holiday thing," I heard myself say. "I haven't stopped going, of no, not me."

She sympathised, gave me words of encouragement, knew from where I was coming.

Anyway, the following day, I get a text from girl trainer number 1. 

"I hear you haven't been doing training, do you need an encouragement call from me to get you back on track?"

She also said that she didn't realise my training app had stopped working, and she'd rebooted it so my training schedule was back on track. 

I thought as we'd finished, that it had been switched off, which I have to admit I found a little disappointing, and a bit disconcerting when I went to train and I had nothing to train too, anyway apparently that wasn't the case, I guess I should have said something earlier.

Well, anyway, I was still contemplating this message in the afternoon, when my phone rang and it was girl trainer number 1.

"What do we have to do to get you back on track?" she asks.

She's really lovely, but determined. She wasn't taking any of my excuses.

After a bit of backward and forward, she said, "Are you working?"

"Yes," I said.

"So you could go after work?"

"Um, er, I guess." 

"So, you could go and do a session this afternoon? After work."

"Um, er..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Good, that's good," she said. "I'll be stalking you training app to see."

So, I did go back to gym in the afternoon. Back at the gym, that's what I did. That's where I am. Yay. Smile.

Bull Dog Bed

 

That's how they sleep, 60 kilos of bulldog. It's a good thing we have a king size bed, as it is a squeeze as it is some nights, when they cuddle up to each other, side by side, stretched out like they own the bed, don't you worry about that.

Monday

Monday. It was Monday. Just a Monday. I still haven't been spoken to about going into the office, or not going into the office, as the case may be. I'm ignoring the directive. I wonder how long I can get away with it? I'll see how long I can go. 

I still don't know what I am going to do if they insist on me going back into the office? Because, I'm not going. Immovable object, meets the unstoppable force. What do you think is going to happen? Normally, it's total destruction, shrug.

I still love working from home and don't want to work any other way, so we'll see.

Then It Rained

After the heat of the last few days, today it poured with torrential rain, washing all the stickiness away.

I went out and stood in it in shorts and t-shirt and bare feet. It was glorious.

Of course, pulling off wet clothes is never fun, but it was worth it, I felt refreshed and revived.

After that, the day felt kind of tropical, as it does, when the rain comes and washes away the heat, but only really washes away some of it and the temperature, although much milder, is still warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. That's the best part of the rain falling.

We ate moo cheese and white nectarines and drank coffee and lazed about in the mildly warm afternoon, each showing the other funny things we found online.

The bulldogs snored. Life wouldn't be complete without the sound of a bulldog snore.

We ate good food, isn't that weekends are for. Stir fry beef and mushrooms, noodles, and yogurt with fresh cut up fruit, blueberries, strawberries, peaches and nectarines.

Hot Saturday

We went for a walk early. Hot day forecast. 33 degrees. I always find it nice to go for a walk on a day that threatens to cook you later. You can almost sense the forbidding in the breeze.

We ate hash browns and pressed sandwiches for lunch, with the house shut down against the heat by that stage. They were very nice.

I'm watching my favourite car YouTube channel, getting his 1968 Buick LeSabre back on the road.

Sam is asleep on the big couch.

The bulldogs have flaked.

All I can hear is the whirr of the dual fans blowing air in each of our direction.

Sam said to get the washing out of the machine once it was done, before he passed out, and as chance would have it, I remembered to do that, so cheers for me. It wasn’t your usual jocks and shirts, no, it was the shower curtain and a whole bunch of bulldog face wipe towels – if you had a bulldog, you’d understand. WTF? So, I pulled that all out of the machine, but the plastic shower curtain had somehow managed to retain a whole bunch of water, like a fat girl explaining her weight, which poured all over the floor in front of the washing machine, which I really was not expecting, and as our laundry is a double cupboard in the front hallway, that really wasn’t ideal. I did manage, however, to whoosh the shower curtain sideways, as it pissed on the floor like an elephant taking a leak, and water several of the plants in the hallway with the excess water, which mitigated the mess somewhat. There was still a large pool of water, however. The towels were heavy wet too from the retained water off the shower curtain, so it all weighed a ton and dripped like a prossy after a very busy Saturday night. So, I got the washing basket and a clothes horse and took all of that outside, somehow not waking Sam in the process, which was the miracle of the day. (You know how things like clothes horses mysteriously grow extra legs to catch on doorways when you are trying to be quiet) And, of course, Otto wanted to know what it all was, sticking his great fat, uninvited face into the middle of it all, wanting to sniff and lick everything just to investigate all of it further, as I tried to straighten it all out and get it hung out to dry. I looked at him and said, Daddy’s little fucken helper, which I never say to them, really having no idea where that came from. So, once I’d admonished myself sufficiently, I headed back inside and mopped the tiled floor of the huge puddle of water.

Ah, back to the couch and YouTube.

Later, I would sleep for 3 hours on the couch myself, only being woken by the bulldogs wrestling next to me, having slept all day, I guess they had energy to burn up. I was none too pleased about the intrusion. They were somewhat taken aback by my sharp rebuke.

Taking the Boys for a Walk

It's muggy hot. Time to take my two red cherubs for an early walk before it heats up too much.

Then, I don't know what I am going to do with the rest of my day off, I have no plans to speak of. And that is just the way I like it.

I have a new Renee Geyer live album which is a treat since I didn't expect to get any new albums from her now she has died. It's a live album, of course, and it's great, so I'll be listening to that.

But first, a lovely wander around the streets, to see what we can see, sniff, whatever. Then, I don't know what? Put my feet up and rest? You know I love that more than just about anything else. Perhaps, not more than world peace*, but, you know, nearly. 😀

* not more than watching Donald Trump fail. 

Oh, okay, we're Australian. Not more than Dutton's nuclear power plant lies failing, how about that? You know the Liberal Party will never build one nuclear power plant, they are conning you. It is just the latest chapter in their unending grip on fossil fuels.

That reminds me, I haven't seen Jill for a while, she being a conservative voter. She has said we can no longer discuss politics, you know, because that is what conservative voters do, especially now that conservatives no longer have any policies other than bashing trans people, wailing about abortion and weaponising immigration.

One day Back At Work

So, having said my holidays were over, sad face, woe is me, why is this happening, kill me now, of course, going back to work on Wednesday - whose decision that was, I have no idea - I only had to work one day and then my weekend started again, as Sam loves to say to me on a Thursdays.

So, I guess I can't complain too much.

Well, I guess I could... chuckle.

Back At The Saltmines

6am. Coffee in hand. Signed into work. Lips of string. Here I am again.

And because the whole company has been shut down up until today, 6.30am my work is done. 

One corner of my mouth moves upwards in a movement that is reprosentative of a smile.

(The sort of face that if you peered through your back window at 3am after hearing a noise, you might just see peering back in at you)

chuckle.

Still, it gives me time to wonder why people like a truly, terrible narcissist like Musk and yet Bill Gates who uses his fortune for philanthropic purposes including wiping out two diseases is so often portrayed as the bad guy?

Is it because people really want to be like Musk, say what they want, do as they please and fuck everyone else? Perhaps, that is what people really want to be able to do?

Or is it that we are all losing our minds due to too much carbon in the air? Rising temperatures?

Is it the cult of celebrity?

Is education to blame?

Or is it the spending power of billionaires?

And I have time for nice thoughts, if I were a billionaire, I’d have fresh nectarines put on my breakfast table every morning of the year, on a terrace that always catches the morning sun, that smells of honeysuckle.

White nectarines, I think, they are exquisite.

If I was a billionaire? Could you imagine? All that money? What is that? One thousand million? One thousand million dollars. It is mind boggling really.

I think if I was a billionaire, I'd want to live quietly out of the spotlight on my honeysuckle terrace eating my nectarines, but, I guess, that isn't the kind of personality with which a billionaire starts? What is it they say, there are more psychopaths in the mega rich CEO types than in jail?

And to think that the fait of the world is, essentially, left in their hands. 

Jesus Xist, My Holidays Are Effectively Over

Last day of my holidays. Yesterday, I was in denial about the time frame and lay on the couch with YouTube for the day. I tried to write some fiction, but it just wasn’t coming to me. Today, I need to do something a little more productive.

Well? I’d better go take the dogs for a walk while I contemplate what comes next?

Resignation? Oh, wouldn’t that put a smile on Sam’s face. I chuckle to myself.

After I have eaten, I go and have a shower. I at least have a shower every second day, I never go longer than that.

Sometime around 9am, I take the Bulldogs for a walk. The sun is shining. The sky is clear, unblemished blue above our hands. And there’s a bit of a breeze, lovely.

There are four cute boys in sports clothes, one tall and athletic, one with curly hair, one with a deep tan just in shorts jogging, one handsome Asian all in black, before we even leave our street.

As we get going, there are two sexy boys walking ahead of us in shorts and T-shirts. Nice legs on both of them, all the way I up to their arses.

It is a lovely day, I must say. It’s nice to be out early’ish in the morning enjoying the morning.

A bit further along, two men kiss outside the Japanese coffee house. Actually, they don’t. It was just something I saw out of the corner of my eye. I think they just stepped towards each other. Looking at them though, I’d like to see them kiss, sexy mid thirties in shorts, one blond, one dark.

At the next street, I look back at the bulldogs when they are lagging behind me too much, and I think I see out of the corner of my eye a drunk lying in one of the garden beds as we are about to cross the next side street, but when I focus, there’s no body in the garden.

It must be the gravitational spin of the year or, my biorhythms, or perhaps failing eyesight. Maybe all three. I laugh, but I don’t know why. 

A bit further along, I see the woman opening up one of the dress boutiques, in a terrible brown skirt and a pale blue denim jacket. It looks like she’s got her tits out, but when I double take, it must’ve just been the fold of the t-shirt under the denim jacket.

Maybe I’m having a stroke and I just don’t realise.

Fifteen minutes of walking, with Sam not with me, I can pull all the old posters off the lamp posts that I want. And I do as I walk along the street. Sam always gets irritated by it and tries to hurry me along. Oh, I don’t care. All those terrible posters once stuck to the light posts, now invariable hanging down in tatters, I just pull down the broken frayed bits as I walk past and toss them in the nearest bin.

It has taken us over fifteen minutes to get to Brunswick Street. The sun is shining beautifully, the breeze is blowing refreshingly.

Halfway down Brunswick Street, a sexy dad, tall with great legs in tight dark blue shirts, is walking his little daughter up the street. He is so tall compared to her, the size difference is mesmerising.

Fifteen minutes later, we turn into Johnston Street. The sun is shining brightly, but it is warm rather than hot. 

At the first set of lights, a cute boy rides down Napier Street in pale blue jeans with an arse like a peach. I hope some young man makes use of that. It would be a shame if he didn’t, I think. Perhaps, I should have been a match maker? Maybe, I am delirious?

We amble along. The bulldogs have got into their bulldoggy stride.

Fifteen minutes later, we turn into our street. We walk up the sunny side of the street, as the sun isn’t too fierce just yet.

A tall, skinny streak of a woman, in pencil thin trousers, a blood red t-shirt and a tight fitting blue cardigan, walks towards us. She is looking at us apprehensively, or is she just pilled up on sedatives? There is something very Norma Desmond about her. She ambles slowly towards us. I wonder if she is scared of the bulldogs, but she passes us as if she doesn’t even know we are there. I think she was pilled up on sedatives. Maybe, that was the face of madness passing us in the street?

The local café that is always open, isn’t open. It seems strange not to see its tables out on the footpath. It is interesting the things you get used to seeing, that you don't know you are used to seeing, until you no longer see them. They must be on Xmas break too.

We cross over to the shady east side of the street just after Moor Street immediately noticing Perry & Kim The Painters trailer is parked in front of the 3rd house along. There is someone mixing paint in the hallway of the house, but I can’t see through the wire door who it is, not that I really try to. I don’t really care to see them, no, not really.

An hour after we left home, we’re home again. For the most part, the bulldogs walked well.

I go out and pull out weeds in the street. Our bluestone gutters now fill up with weeds. I suspect the miserable Yarra Council has stopped maintaining them. If I pull them out when they first appear, it only takes me 5 minutes, or so, to deal with them.

I plant geraniums under the tree outside the house four houses down, that got the most recent new tree, so it matches the other geraniums under the trees in the street. Of course, I only plant red geraniums, which isn’t what is under the other trees, but red are the only colour I like.

My arm bleeds like a bitch, I suddenly notice as I am planting the cutting, with my blood the same bright red of the flowers. I don’t know what I did to it, but those drugs that do something to my blood, really do make me bleed a lot. Which reminds me, I have a doctor’s appointment early January. I wonder when that is?

I fix my succulent that that big oaf Charlie knocked to the floor in the house breaking the ceramic pot on the tiles in the atrium. Not a word from him, other than his usual neanderthal grunt. And he just left it smashed on the floor, no apology, nothing.

After all of that, I make coffee and eat the donut in the fridge that I have been telling Sam to eat. He catches on quickly and rushes into the lounge room to eat half of it, which I don’t mind at all, I’ve been telling him to eat it, but when he washes it down with my coffee, I take exception.

I write my journal.

Just the rest of the day until I am due back at the salt mines. Sad face.

The day sparkles outside, it really does.

Day After The Heat

This morning, I woke up early, as I always wake up early, to the sound of rain drops falling on the roof. I got up and headed downstairs. The house felt like freshly baked bread just taken out of the oven. I flung open all the windows and doors. It is one of life's joys feeling the cool air seep back into the house after a very hot day.

I made coffee and sat in the half dark morning and sipped my macchiato as the cool air started to make a difference all around me.

People say Melbourne weather is... well... they say an awful lot about Melbourne weather, but I love the fact that after very hot days you are guaranteed of a cool change. There is always relief on its way.

It rained for the rest of the morning. I gradually put more and more clothes on. First, I slipped on my hoodie. Then it was track pants instead of shorts. Then it was explorer socks when my feet started to get cold. But I kept the doors and windows open and the fresh air was glorious, despite the rain and rugging up.

I'm sitting on the floor at my coffee table cleaning out my emails, it seems like a good day for that. Otto crawls in under the coffee table between my legs. I don't know why they do it, maybe it is for warmth, but it is a favourite position. I keep looking through my emails deleting them. Brun crawls in under the coffee table next to Otto. Now I feel like I am in hospital in stirrups. 60 kilos of bulldogs between my thighs. It's not sustainable. I feel like I have hinges for hips and they are just about to give out.

With A New Year You Get To Thinking

Sam is complaining that his holidays are now over and we didn't really do much, which we didn't, it's true.

Mark called me to ask for comment on photos he'd sent earlier in the day, which I'd completely missed, of him painting the interior of his house completely white. He was supposed be resting up from a recent illness so what did he do, he painted the outside of his house, yes, of course, that is what you do, but that is Mark. Now, the interior is getting the once over.

David tried to change happy pills recently, but ended up in hospital, really, from my advice. He was weaning himself off the old ones over the Xmas/New Year week, so he could start the new ones, which would also help with some Neuralgia he's been having, oh yes, she's a mess, but he ended up calling me and appearing to be so fucken out of it and really not hooked into reality and I told him to call an ambulance, which he did do eventually when his house guests had that course of action confirmed by someone they'd spoken to, also. A doctor in a Swiss clinic, something. Oh, those poor house guests, some couple from Geneva, they must have thought, WTF? A couple of his cult members, no doubt, from his guru spirituality nonsense.

I've got a couple more days of holidays yet to laze around on the couch like a bloated whale, oh, only in attitude, and not actually physically. I'm looking pretty good, actually, even if I do say so myself. We go back to work Wednesday, I'm not sure whose bright idea that was, I never really questioned it.

I haven't been to the gym for a couple of weeks, over the holiday period, so in the next few days I really do need to start doing that again. Oh, the pain, the pain. Sam's been calling me out on having a gym membership ticking away not being used, which he is, of course, right about, but I intend to go, I really do. He just looks at me doubtfully when I say that.

LouLou called me New Year's Day and while I did call her back, she hasn't called back after that. I haven't seen her for ages, and she is battling homelessness, rising rents and all that, she's been house sitting for people for the last year. I have a spare room that I should offer to her, but she is a furious cigarette and pot smoker and I am reformed on both those counts and I just don't think I could live with someone who does now. Is that terrible? It's a bit terrible, I know.

I haven't seen Rachel, although we did exchange Happy Xmas texts. I can't help but think something has gone wrong with our friendship, but, you know, whatever, perhaps it is in my imagination. I don't know. I'm not the best friend for keeping in contact, I know that, and I guess they all know that too.

I've barely heard from Jill, and I still haven't seen her since her 35 kilo weight loss. Ah, still, I will. And Jill and I don't see each other all the time, but we always reconnect.

I wanted to go and visit Mark and Luke for the holidays, but Sam wasn't keen. We could have had a fun road trip up north and a week away. Oh well. And now his holidays, are over, and mine nearly are over. A couple a days.

Then it is back to the salt mines.

Hot Day

It was hot today. 38 degrees. We took the dogs for a walk before it got hot, even though it was 32 degrees by the time we got home early this morning. 9am and the sun was starting to burn, as we struggled to find shaded parts of the street in which to walk. We stayed inside out of the heat for the rest of the day. Lazy ways, I don't need to be school in such things, I've majored in it all my life.

Not much more to say, really. We stayed indoors in the cool. In front of the fan, duelling fans from either side of the room. I feel that is more compatible with my climate change credentials, even if I don't think as a race we are going to survive this, and from time to time even wonder what is the point? But you do you bit, hey?

We ate 5 spice pork belly for lunch.

We ate noodles for dinner. Sam cooked a mountain of them and we couldn't finish them. (Of course, we sent the excess out to all the starving people in the world 😁)

We ate Weis Bars straight from the freezer. We ate cherries from a large, glass bowl.

I'm feeling sticky by the end of it.

I might need a second shower before I go to bed.

I'd have some iced water but it gives me a pain in the stomach.

It would probably be nice to go and stand naked outside at midnight.

I did have a second shower before bed, erm, kinda had to, you know, to feel comfortable. You've just got to sometimes.

A Good Year

Wow! The weather has been great so far for 2025. It's going to be a good year. 

I'm heading out into the sunshine to enjoy it. The day is sparkling.

We took the dogs for a walk early. We met up with one of the gay guys from a few houses down walking his dogs. He had little blue shorts on and his female dog rolled over and spread her legs for Brun and Otto. I wanted to say, Like father like daughter, but I don't really know him well enough to make that remark, so instead I said, "You guys are disgusting," as my two boys lapped enthusiastically at her girlie bits. We laughed.

The cafes were all full of people sitting outside enjoying the sunshine eating their big breakfasts and drinking their lattes. Early in the morning like that, it is pretty much locals, the tourists arrive a bit later in the day.

Sam got a new Mac Book Pro for work, the usual annual upgrade. One of his colleagues picked it up from the city saying he'd drop it in at our place, but for some reason he didn't drop it in, instead taking it home with him to Frankston.

"We have to go to Frankston to get it," said Sam.

"He took it from the city to Frankston?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so."

"Seriously?

"A-ha."

(for those of you not from Melbourne that is an hour south of the city, on a good day)

Anyway, maybe the essence of me willing him dead reached him, and now he's given it to a friend who was coming up to the city, who took it to his place in Box Hill. (for those of you not from Melbourne that is half an hour east)

Anyway, that is what we are doing now.

"We can have dumplings in Box Hill," said Sam sheepishly.

All I could manage was raised eyebrows.

New Year

I sat on the couch early and read the news, you know, to see what bad behaviour happened over night with the New Year’s celebrations. There was really nothing interesting to read.

I love these two progressive American chicks, blond and sassy and smart, and weirdly who live in Republican states, who have a YouTube channel, IHipNews, who told the one interesting story which was about a post by Elon Musk. He posted a picture of his son X sitting on his shoulders, which he captioned with, My son likes to cling to me like a monkey, or words to that affect.

Someone called Adrian Ditman made a comment. Elon, you are such a great father, your children must be honoured to have you as a father, or words to that affect.

Well, as it turns out, Adrian Dittmann is Elon Musk. Isn’t that sad. The world’s greatest douche.