One to me, Nill to The Pony Tail

It's fair to say The Ponytail, that idiot senior HR manager in Melbourne, don't like each other. And that is mostly because she likes to off-load as much work as she can onto other people, and I simply push back on her and tell her to do it herself.

Whenever I deal with her, before I answer any emails from her, I do a mental mind shift of 'release the judgement' and then I fearlessly stand my ground and push back. There is nothing she can do with that approach.

I don't like her because she is awful. If she makes an error she usually managers to blame it on someone else. If anyone else makes an error she throws the biggest drama telling the world.

She sent me an email requesting a whole mountain of information, she cc'd in every (senior) HR person and then she went on holidays for a week.

Something she probably didn't know was that one of the young HR people in Sydney was re-working all of that particular information at present.

I thought, nice try Bitchy McBitch Face, cc'ing in everyone so I answer everyone for her while she is away on holidays. Well, I'm not doing your work for you, I think. So, I simply replied to The PonyTail only, please contact Josie Blogs. What is that expression I detest? Am I bad. 

So, no one got the information I can only assume she was meant to get, or follow up on why they may not have got the information, so she's not happy.

Oh well.

Oh, I know, it is a minor thing, and pathetic really, I understand, but you have to rejoice in your minor victories, as they say.

She has always tried to push me around, from the very beginning, I assume because I don't have manager in my title, and she has never been successful. I've dealt with HR people for a long time.

Ah, Monday morning and The PonyTail is at me already, you see, there is no god.

The one thing I miss, or don't miss, possibly, ha ha, you work it out, is looking out of my office to see that ponytail swinging from side to side as The Ponytail is in full flight in my direction. Oh, beam me up Scotty! Another reason to love working from home.

Oh, and if she calls me, I never answer the phone, I always make her send me an email, you know, if she has something to say, she can put it in writing.

Handi Man

We were back at Sam's rental. The tenants have moved out and the real estate agent is in the process of finding new tenants.

The giant yucca that we chopped out before the last tenants moved in, which we poisoned, and into which we poured sulphuric acid, had sprouted again with six new shoots.

I'd read you can't kill these fuckers once they are planted in the ground and this one is enormous. So, Sam read some where if you cover it in thick paint it can kill it by suffocating it. 

I had several cans of silver spray paint which I'd bought for something but hadn't used, so we sprayed it with the silver paint to start with. Fuck me, does that stuff stink, am I to assume the graffiti artists are all brain damaged from the constant paint fumes, because it immediately gave me a head ache - which is coming back now just by thinking about it - and had to give it up and give the spray cans to Sam.

Well, the silver was one of the most ridiculous ideas that we'd had. It looked like some sort of budget Doctor Who SiFi movie set, it looked really bad.

So, we headed to Bunnings.

It was bulldog day at Bunnings with 5 bulldogs in the shop at once.

Anyway, Sam had the bright idea of getting sample pots of brown with which to cover the silver paint, which we did. The sample pots didn't go any where near covering the silver and we just made it worse. Now, it somehow resembled a murder scene, the brown somehow looking suspiciously like blood contrasted against the remains of the silver still showing, splattered all over the giant stump.

So, it was back to Bunnings. There, I could only get 1 litre of the brown we'd already got, as it didn't come in 500 mils which was the size I thought I needed.

"Do you just have 500 mils of something like Mission Brown?" They did, for $17, which was good, as 1 litre of the other was going to cost $70.

"What," I said. "I just want to buy a tin of their paint, I don't want to buy shares in the Dulux?" I replied.

I told her I worked in a hardware shop when I went to uni, which is true, I did, a job I was so hopeless at it makes me cringe when I think about it. 

"$70 for a litre of paint," I said. "The prices have certainly gone up since then."

She looked me in the eye and said, "I can well imagine." 

And all I could think was, fuck you bitch, I'm not that old.

I remember 4 litres was $40, as one day I was selling a tin to a crusty old tradie and his reply to me telling him the price was, "Jesus fuck me Christ, the cunts are expensive, aren't they." Oh, I must have been somewhat sheltered in my eastern suburbs private school upbringing, as I was speechless upon hearing that.

Anyway, the 500 mils tin didn't fix the job either. Now it looked like some kind of crazy Tim Burton birthday cake looming in the corner of the court yard drawing all eyes to it. Grrrr!

Sam said he thought the spray cans worked better than brushing the paint on.

So, it was back to Bunnings. I took Otto with me this time and everyone recognised me because of him. I'm too bland to be recognised without a big bouncing dog, sad to say.

This time I got a spray can of gloss brown. 

Anyway, 6 receptacles of paint and half a day later, the giant stump finally just seemed to fade away into the back ground unnoticed.

There was also the matter of the front door lock striker plates, which the problem tenants, the ones before the previous tenants had removed from the front door. Why? We don't know? Sam still reckons they were dealing drugs, as they installed all kinds of security cameras around the perimetre. Anyway, he reckons the striker plates were removed because of some sort of security system these losers had installed, which they removed when they eventually disappeared in the night doing a runner.

The current realestate agent complained that the striker plates were missing, as it is some kind of security issue. So, as well as the many paint buying runs, I was also buying striker plates, which I was trying to fit as Sam performed his Picasso routine in the court yard, none of which I could get to work.

So we were both having our own levels of frustration. 

None of the different striker plates worked. Why? Why? Why? This should be so easy. The last one I fitted, just as I was going to test it, I realised I'd screwed it onto the door frame a couple of millimetres down too low. Nyr! I was exasperated with myself, and I just kind of pushed the door in disgust to get some tools from behind it and the door clicked shut.

"WTF?"

I tested it a few times, and with the striker plate clearly screwed into the wrong position on the door frame, the damn thing worked.

Oh. I laughed to myself. Seriously? Um? Shrug. There you go. Fixed.

So, there you go, after much frustration we got the jobs done.

Of course, the bulldogs wrestled in the garden ruining quite a few plants, just what was needed for getting new tenants. Yeah, good onya you two.

In The Gym

 

Otto

 

At The Gym

I’m on the exercise bike at the gym as I type this.

I’m on the exercise bike at the gym as I hope this goes fast.

There’s some tosser in fluro shorts posing, doing a double pull down right across the width of the gym. 

There are a couple of twisted sisters in matching onesies looking like they wanna kill. I’ve never seen a pair of matching grimaces.

There is a big guy in impossibly small, tight shorts. He looks like he is going gently so as not to split his shorts.

There is a beautiful girl doing leg extensions. She seems self conscious and does a lot of ab exercises.

There is an old chick doing lat pull downs. She spends most of her time reclining on the machines.

Oh, I gotta go, I’ve discovered I can’t type and pedal at the same time.

Anyway, it is time to hit the treadmill.

Wednesday

My work week ends, yay,

It's been hell, ha, ha, easy as.

and my weekend begins, relax and breathe,

just the way it should be.

Lovely.

A couple of days until the weekend proper starts.

Days to myself, you have to love that.

I even got to the gym last Tuesday, think it, do it, as David says, and I thought it and did it, just like that, so I am right on track for two visits this week.

I spoke to my girl trainer a few days ago, essentially apologising for only making it to the gym once a week, lately. She said I should congratulate myself for keeping it up regularly and then try to go twice a week.

So, well done me.

Tuesday

I'm up early.

I get stuck into work.

Ah, the gentle sound of a bulldog snoring at my feet accompanies me on the day. 

What would the world be like without the snore of a bulldog?

A little more Tina Turner. What the world needs now is a little more Tina Turner.

And coffee. Oh yes, more coffee. Ha ha. I would never say anything but.

Ah, the morning just drifts away.

Monday

Monday?

What can I say?

I started early,

as I do.

I listened to Tina Turner for most of the day.

I had most of my work down after lunch,

well, what I had to do anyway.

A meeting with my team in the afternoon,

finance boffins,

as boring as they are,

I can't really begin to tell you how boring they really are.

How did I get into this field?

My boss was back for the first time since brain surgery,

he looked okay. Good to have him back, as long as he doesn't insist on me going back to the office.

I thought he might spend a lot more time away,

but you know how those execs are, always something to prove.

We walked the dogs after work.

We ate roast chicken for dinner,

after which I fell asleep on the couch.

Off To The Country

So, let's try the country trip today...

Lunch in the hills.

Lovely.

Let's go.

The bulldogs always get super excited when they hear the car key jiggle. And I have a keyless entry fob with one house key attached to it, so their hearing is really fine tuned down to the sound of that. All it takes is one, even slight, rattle and they are on it immediately.

Walk into the City

We were going to go walking in the country, but Otto vomited up his chicken breakfast he got so excited about an immanent car ride that we didn't go.

We walked into the city instead, so Sam could sort out some games he'd bought. He discovered a better deal after he'd bought them, so he returned them. Sam is always looking for a better deal.

We had lunch sitting at the State Library, which was very nice, just sitting in the sun with the green grass as a back drop. The only thing that spoiled it, was some mentally deranged loon came and sat up the other end of the sitting area, screaming sad things at the world passing by him.

Still, the sun shone and it was a lovely day.

Friday

Friday, again. Friday just keeps rolling around with regular monotony, now doesn't it. I guess that is good, though, in a sense, as if it didn't roll around, I'm guessing you'd be dead. Hey? Better to have Friday roll around, than the alternative.

But seriously, every time I seem to look up, it is Friday. Thursday always seems to be little more than a blip.

Brun comes downstairs, it's early for him. He gives me a I-need-a-wee look as he heads straight to the back door. He makes a vague attempt at chasing Milo, when he comes back in, which makes me laugh, it is almost over as it begins, then he hops up on the couch next to me, snuffling and sniffing.

It's early, of course, it is still dark outside.

Brun is now snoring. He's my big teddybear.

So, Friday hey? So many options? I could do anything I like. I am powerful, I can do anything. David is always banging on about positive affirmations, so I thought I'd give them a go. They made me feel pretty silly, if I was honest.

Later, I take the dogs for a walk in the rain, let me explain. While the footpaths are still wet from the recent down pour, there is no actual rain falling from the sky, as we head out the door. 

It wouldn't be so bad, not really, they don't care if the rain falls, and it is kind of romantic when it does, even if I am only waling with my two favourite K9s, and not my great love.

10.15am

And it did rain, and we walked in it, the dogs don't care, before we amended our route to walk mostly under shop awnings.

Now I'm going to the gym.

Writing, Writing

Day off. Rather than waste my life on YouTube, yet again, I re-wrote my fiction blog all day. I re-wrote a number of old draft entries that have been unfinished for the longest time, and published them, finally.

It was a balmy, blustery, windy kind of day. I don't know if I am weird, but I love the wind. It was overcast and grey, but warm.

I took the dogs for a walk early. Everyone seemed to have the same idea, walk your dog early as it was going to be hot, and while it was kind of hot, it wasn't too hot.

I didn't get to the gym. Bad me.

And the day just disappeared.

Waking Up Early

I wake up early. I don't mind waking up early, it means I have to deal with people for less hours in the day. 😁

Besides, it is peaceful early in the morning.

That doesn't include Sam, you understand, he is still my favourite human, nah, it just includes everybody else, people are annoying, with a few exceptions, none of whom are around early in the morning when I get up.

5am'ish, somewhere in that 5am hour is my usual time to get up now a days. Funny how things change. I used to stay up late and get up much later than I do now, but Sam has always gone to bed early, 10pm, and I have succumbed to his influence, still it's not bad, as I said earlier, in fact, I quite like getting up early now.

Nonsense

There are increased anti immigration rants, by people around the world.

Immigration that made so many countries so successful, including Australia.

And with very low birth rates in western countries, it is what is going to make us successful in the future, most likely.

So, people, stop the nonsense, stop listening to conservative politicians point scoring, and stop being racist, and ridiculous and stop denigrating immigration, it is what is going to secure most of our futures.

Let's face it, anti immigration rants are just racism repackaged. That's all they are. Why are we accepting racism today? We should condemn the people making anti immigration speeches.

Don't vote for the party that is using immigration as a political tool in the coming federal election, vote for the party that is going to do most for all Australians.

And remember, despite what they say, nuclear power will be the most expensive form of energy generation. Renewables, despite whatever drawbacks they have, will always be cheaper than nuclear. Any argument to the contrary is smoke and mirrors and an argument for something other than nuclear, in Australia's case, it is an argument for the continuing use of fossil fuels.

Not Quite 72 Virgins

 

Apparently, this is what gay Muslims see when they get to heaven.

Oh why not, it's Monday, and I don't want to think about Monday.

It made me laugh.

I mean, if you can't laugh at Abrahamic religions, what can you laugh at?

Sunday Morning

It's a rainy Sunday, almost my favourite kind of day.

Of course, that means cleaning day, always on a Sunday morning.

Sam gets to dusting, and throwing looks at me still on the couch.

He moves everything, including my laptop, off the coffee table to clean it.

He continues to throw looks, I continue to pretend not to see them.

Once Sam is done with the dusting downstairs he heads upstairs, on his way he finally says, "Do the vacuuming."

Then he disappears upstairs to clean our bedroom and the bathroom.

Moments later, I get to my feet. Get it over and done with, I think.

I'm clearly serious about the vacuuming this morning, as I break out the full sized Dyson vacuum. I have been using the shit LG stick vacuum, but it really is a useless pile of shit.

I select Tina Turner live in my headphones. Addicted to love starts to play. Tina starts to sing.

Saturday

I don't know, it was Saturday. A day not to know, it was almost created for it. Saturdays. And not knowing.

What do you do on Saturdays?

I wonder as the fan whirs in the corner of the room.

The news tried to make out it was going to be a scorcher of a day, life threatening, breathlessly reported, but it was 31 degrees, which is quite nice.

The news seems to want to grab ratings with even sensationalising the weather just lately. I don't really understand it?

Does it have something to do with competing with social media, which is always looking for drama to sell itself?

Everybody seems to be doing drama now a days.

I was so concerned, I fell asleep on the couch in the afternoon for a couple of hours.

Otto is sick, he has a cold and a cough. The internet says it should clear up in a week, after that he'll need to go to the vet.

Lovely Friday

It's a great day, gorgeous, warm, 25 degrees.

I finish a short story that I start a day, or so ago.

I take the dogs for a walk for an hour, then I get my arse off to the gym.

All before lunch, pretty good going even if I do say so myself.

Sam is in back to back meetings all morning. They sound as boring as fuck. I stand off to the side out of sight and text him.

"Why don't you tell them to go and fuck themselves with a big long stick."

Sam reaches for his keyboard nonchalantly, as whoever is talking yaps on. "Oh, kill me now," Sam replies.

And I now have the afternoon to piss away as I feel like.

Pissing In The Shower

I read another survey on how many people piss in the shower.

Really?

Who cares if you piss in the shower?

The water is running, it washes away.

In fact, it is probably a good thing to do as far as water usage is concerned. You know, save water.

Why do we do useless surveys? But the world is so full of nonsense, the trick is not to get caught up in it. Who cares really is such a good yard stick.

I guess it is interesting to know, non the less. But it's not something about which to get the ick. It's not important.

I'll admit it, I piss in the shower.

Mark

I was busy working, it was my busy day, when my phone rang and Luke's name came up on my phone.

I picked it up and answered with a certain amount of trepidation, hoping it wasn't bad news. "Hi, how are you?"

Mark's voice came on. "I'm still alive," he said.

OMG! I couldn't believe it. Funny how we say that. Of course, I could believe it, I was just as pleased as pleased. Sitting by his bed for a week was worth it for this moment, not that it was ever not worth it. He sounded great. He didn't remember Lolie and I sitting by his bed for a week, but I could tell he was pleased. He became emotional at the information.

I was very pleased. It was good to have him back, finally. Thank you inuiverse. (Not that the universe had anything to do with it, let's not border on a troglodyte) Thank you modern medicine.

Busy

It was a busy day back after the long weekend. The 01st of March is when everything changes in our company, pay rises, promotions, new baby lawyers, reset, renew, the music stops and everybody stands, so it is always a busy time. Straight after a long weekend, always, so much more to do, with less time to do it in, it's always the way, you've gotta hate that.

Oh universe, I was pulling my hair out, despite having a haircut days before, but I got it done, even if Boris kept giving me the wrong information, which is really unlike her. Grrr. I don't know what she was thinking, or not thinking, as the case may be. Her mind was some where else, clearly. She apologised after each fuck up, profusely after the last couple, which really wasn't necessary, as we are both there just to get things done. No-one is there for recriminations. It will be my turn to fuck up next week, if you know what I mean.

I was thanked for my work. Shrug. I'd rather be writing my blog. Clearly.

Woke

The only thing woke means is that you care about other people.

That's what it means. How could anyone be against that?

Quiet Weekend

It's really quiet in the streets, it seems like the people have gone away for the long weekend, leaving the place nice and quiet. It's nice, no tourists.

I sing a round of Where Have All The Annoying People Gone, as I walk around to the shops. Whistling between verses. Ha ha. And a little dance right on the side of the footpath, dancing like nobody is watching, because nobody was.

There should be more long weekends. I love long weekends.

Haircuts, Indian Food, Music

We head into the city and have haircuts.

We go to Melbourne Central and eat Indian food, we take the dogs. Melbourne Central has faux laneways so we eat in them with Brun and Otto. People seem enchanted to see them.

I go to JBHiFi and buy a Rolling Stones Cd and a Guy Sebastian Cd.

I come home and fall asleep on the couch for the afternoon.

Breeding Pair

One of the resident loons, who I have seen around for years, and who just lately seems to have got her medication under control, as she is no longer pacing the street calling out to god to forgive these sinners, quite out of the blue asked me, "Are they a breeding pair?"

"No," I said. "They are not."

"Don't you want to breed with them?" she asked.

"No, no I don't."

"Oh," she said and she walked off.

Not are they both boys, which is clearly my kind of breeding pair, but probably not what she had in mind, I thought. They are also both de-sexed.

She is clearly not a dog person. Nor a genius.

Day Off, Take The Dogs For A Walk

I just had a shower, was getting dressed. I had one leg in my the leg of my shorts, just about to put my other leg in, when Otto decided it was time for a game and jumped up on me, with enthusiastic force, quite unexpectedly. I was lucky to just grab the end bedhead, spinning around in a half circle, before I hit the floor, or collided with the desk, or the wall, at speed. OMG! The fucker! That’s how I am.

We ran downstairs together. Only to find it was raining when I opened the front door.

Me and Otto looking out with disappointed faces, no doubt. Brun probably looking quite pleased.

Wednesday Morning

Wow. It is a lovely morning, almost makes you feel glad to be alive. Oh well, you know, a lovely morning is always nectar for the living.

It does your soul good, seeing the warm sun shining down. And to think daylight savings finishes this weekend.

I'm working, of course. Wednesday. Hump Day.

I made coffee mid morning and I sneaked two lamingtons to have with my coffee, but stupidly left the lamington tin in the middle of the kitchen bench rather than putting the lamington tin back on the shelf. If you are going to sneak lamingtons, don't leave the lamington tin on the kitchen bench, it is a dead give away.

No word on Mark. But right at the moment, I take no news as good news.

Now I have coconut caught in my teeth, which is annoying.

Afternoon Walk

It was hot, surprisingly hot. I was waiting for a parcel to be delivered and each time I headed outside to check it seemed to be hotter.

It was almost too hot to take the dogs for a walk, but we took them for a shorter walk, in the afternoon shade where we could manage it to the supermarket to get food for dinner.

Monday

Monday. Back to work.

Apparently, Mark had a bad night, getting fluid in his lungs.

I should have stayed up there and helped. I can work from there.

Time To Head home

Lollie came up on Wednesday. We sat together at Mark's bedside all week, with Luke. Lollie crocheting.

Lollie and I flew home together today. 

I probably should have stayed and helped Luke.