Rainy Thursday

It rained today, really heavy rain in the afternoon. We got half of our month of October's normal rain fall on the first day of the month.

Sam was in the office all day.

I wrote all day. Lovely.

Otto and I went for a walk just before lunch time, as the rain was forecast for an hour's time after we left. I'm still on my Joan Armatrading kick so I listened to her on my headphones.

I've also been listening to U2s Songs of Experience, in preparation for their new album. I like it.

I got a turkey and brie cheese and salad roll and a chocolate and banana muffin for lunch just after we came home from our walk.

Then, that was done, the only thing I really had to do today. That was probably fortunate as only a couple of hours later the rain start and it did stop for hours after that.

I also watched Charlie is My Darling, Rolling Stones doco from 1965. It is interesting as a historical document. Kind of like watching an old black and white movie.

Otto Is A Clever Boy

I slept alone with Otto, while Sam slept in the other room fitted out with his Sleep Apnoea apparatus.

Otto usually sleeps snuggled up to Sam at night, but he did sleep kind of against me, when it was just him and me.

I woke at 3am and had a piss, and Otto was lying long ways out against me.

I woke again at 5.15am and I reached out for him, but he wasn't there.

Then I heard, "Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl."

I looked up and he was sitting by the bedroom door staring at me.

"Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl. Growl."

Oh, okay, sure. I got up and put my dressing gown on and as soon as I opened the bedroom door, Otto ran downstairs and straight to the back door, with me in pursuit.

He ran up the back of the garden and had a huge diarrhoea attack.

It was even warm outside in my dressing gown at that time of the morning. Nice. Summery.

Clever boy, I thought.

I think bulldogs are smart, even if on the smartest dogs list they don't come up at the top.

Sam went to the office early, delivering his monitoring equipment back to the hospital on his way.

Charlie left quite early, going off to do whatever it is that he does. I think he has got another restaurant kitchen job.

Otto and I settled in to work for the day. I had everything I needed to do pretty much done by 10am, so I got to re-write my blogs for the rest of the day. Lovely. Otto is on the couch next to me in the study snoring.

Sam's Sleep Apnoea

Sam, I believe, has always suffered from Sleep Apnoea. I kept telling him that some nights I'd lie there and wait for him to start breathing again, I mean, on the rare nights that I was awake. We both fall asleep really easily, both of us within 5 minutes of going to bed. But on those rare nights that I was awake, I'd listen to his terrible breathing.

I don't know if Sam would refute this, but how I see it is, he started wearing his Apple watch to bed and when it told him he had Sleep Apnoea, he then consulted doctors.

Today was the day that he went to hospital and got fitting out with what looked like the Flux Capacitor to be tested over night.

He elected to do the test at home, so he had to go to the hospital and get fitted out. Then he had to walk home looking like RoboMan.

Otto was his normal excited self to see Sam home, but he could easily have ripped one of the wires, or tubes, off Sam in his excitement, so Sam had to be careful with that. He ended up putting a big jumper over the whole thing.

Anyway, its good, he'll get the answers he needs and can have the treatment that is appropriate.

Well, That Is Awkward

I was going to say to Boris today that I was feeling sick and that I'd be working from home.

Sam said, "Just take the day off and stop pissing around."

"I don't mind working, I just don't want to go into the office."

"You have all that accrued sick leave, just use it," said Sam.

So, I went to bed wondering what I would do today.

I got up this morning at 5.30am. I made coffee. Then it occurred to me, if I signed into work now, which is when I usually sign in, by the time Boris gets to the office, normally by 9.15am, I could have all of the immediate work done, kind of a compromise, of sorts, so that is what I decided.

I'd work until 9am, then I take the rest of the day sick. So I did.

9am. I text Boris. I'm not feeling well, so I am taking the rest of the day off sick. I think everything is done.

Boris messaged me back. I'm not well too.

Well, that is awkward, I thought. I didn't expect that. (I have a vague feeling that Boris isn't happy with her job)

Okay. Well, no problem. I can stay signed in and check emails from time to time. 

Thank you Christian. I can monitor emails too.

So, that is what we did.

The Midget is away for a couple of weeks, so noo ne really need to know about our double day off. The Big Poo is back from his time off.

 

Sunday

Today couldn't be any different to yesterday if it tried. It is sunny and warm and looks lovely out there, looking out my rear French Doors, even if I haven't, actually, been out in it myself.

We're off to get haircuts, walk Otto into town, get some lunch afterwards. Enjoy the sunshine. Get all tidied up for tomorrow, and the rest of our lives, ha ha.

Our mate Matt is coming to stay for a short time. Actually, the time frame hasn't been specified, which is never a good thing. I have learnt that the hard way with friends, in the past. Still...

It is a lovely day, why do I care to get bogged down in details.

Of course, first of all, before we do anything, it is cleaning day. You know how Sam is a stickler for cleaning day on Sunday morning. Me? Personally, shrug, I couldn't care less. Clean house, dirty house, it is all the same house to me.

I've resurrected my big begonia, which got too big for the house, not that I thought it was too big, I'm happy to push through a jungle to get to the kitchen, but the consensus of the house was that it was too big. It has deteriorated outside, so I have now found a new position for it, on our front veranda. I just have to go to Bunnings and get a new pot in which to repot it.

Rainy Saturday

It rained pretty much from the moment I got up. It was constant, fine, drizzling rain all day.

Consequently, it wasn't a day to do anything much. Not much. Nah.

Sam had booked us in for eye tests at midday down at Victoria Gardens, and, you know, I wasn't really feeling it, I can tell you. 

On a miserable day like today, the best place for us is on the couch with a tartan blanket catching up on all the latest releases from YouTube, drinking mugs of hot chocolate, I'd further suggest.

I suggested cancelling and re-booking for a sunny day when it would be much nicer to head outside, which was met with a curious look from my better half. "Eye tests are an in door pursuit," he said.

Yes, well, what could I say, he was right.

So rain hats on, me luvs, we'll be heading out to battle the elements in the name of good health.

The rain looks set in, so I am assuming we'll be scurrying to the optometrist and then scurrying home again.

I can't see much else getting done.

I'm on my second last pair of runners, as my newest runners started to leak in the rain because the toe was worn through. Now it seems my second last pair of runners is now leaking too. I'll have to revert back to an older pair, I don't know how many pairs ago, so my feet stay nice and dry. Alternatively, I could go and buy a new pair. Duh!

We caught the tram. I like catching the tram, I think it’s a good way to really feel a part of your suburb.

I changed my optometrist appointment to 1.30pm, at the tram stop, as we were a bit late getting to the Pho shop for Pho for lunch, but as it turned out, we still got to the optometrist by the original appointment time. I tried to claim my original appointment time, you know, as it hadn’t been long by then, but I had to wait half an hour for them to fit me in.

A friend of mine tells me that when she wants to cheer herself up, she goes and gets new glasses, or a new phone, two things I hate doing. I hate choosing new glasses.

We both got new glasses. Sam had already had the eye test, he just needed to pick the glasses. We pick them up in a week.

Parents Are Crap At Parenting

I sent a photo of an old man nudist to David, which I have sent him many times before, as it is funny because it bears an uncanny resemblance to what David would probably look like as an old man.

I would even argue that it is barely a nude photo, but the system classified it as a nude photo and I was asked series of questions before my normal text messaging would send it.

WTF is this all about?

I was so distracted by this new over reach of guard rails that I accidentally picked the wrong answer to the question and the system remove my image from my text message altogether.

What the fuck, I thought.

This is what happens when you effectively allow parents to opt out of parenting by legislating for kids level protections, we all are made to be inconvenienced by parents lack of parenting.

If you want to protect children, get parents to do their jobs and monitor what their kids do. 

Don't legislate Big Brother style where we all get effected by the legislation. As an adult, I should be able to judge for myself what I see, and what I don't see, without a computer system questioning me.

Let's put looking after children back into the hands of parents to monitor what their kids see, and don't see, and leave the rest of us out of it.

I haven't looked at porn online since the whole age verification stuff has become a reality. I haven't wanted to hand over any more of my information to anyone online, not since I have been involved in the 4th major data breach.

I don't want to give any more of my information to people online, since companies clearly don't give a shit about keeping it safe. 

It isn't good enough.

We're being fucked over by people with kids. I see friends giving their babies and toddlers their phones and iPads to shut their kids up, and then, apparently, all through the child rearing stage, I can only assume, parents are too god damn lazy to monitor what their little brats are doing online.

And then we all get to pay for parents ineptitude, by having to jump through hoops, give companies data, that they look after about as well as parents monitor their kids online.

Here's a suggestion parents of today, if you are too god damn lazy to look after your kids, don't have them.

You know what else, with all these teenagers who are committing crimes and apparently terrorising Melbourne, we should start charging the parents with the crimes their kids are continually committing, because the parents are responsible for these brats until they are 18 anyway. I wouldn't normally say such a thing, but according to conservative commentators we are in the middle of an emergency.

Sunny Thursday

My electrician who was supposed to come today to do a major re-wire of my fusebox, but didn't turn up. I didn't even hear from him. I could have called, but, you know, it isn't urgent, I keep my $2000 for now, so what the hell. Sam didn't, exactly, agree with that. He's much more 'get onto it' than I am.

"He'll turn up eventually, so what's the drama," I said.

I continued to re-write my 2014 blog posts, just because I am enjoying doing it. It is interesting to see them come together. There were lots of missing days, so I re-wrote my journals posts from then and posted them. (some of those original journal posts were so inadequate, I find, with some of them, I am just making shit up, but I have always said, this is all loosely based on the truth. I mean everything, at least, has a kernel of truth to it, but some days the embellishments, at least, equal the truth) It's interesting what I remember when I start though.

Is it the waste of time olympics? Some people might say it it, but I enjoy doing, so how can it be a waste of time?

I've had a fascination with Joan Armatrading these last few days, so I listened to her while I wrote.

I threw Otto his ball for him while I wrote and listened to music. He never gives up on ball throwing, never. He is relentless with it, he would probably die doing it, given the chance. He is really a lovely boy.

Otto and I went for a walk after lunch, it was a gorgous sunny day, early afternoon.

I always find days with perfect weather to be really relaxing. Satisfying, even.

Essentially, it turned out to be a lazy day on the couch as the sun shone outside, just the sorts of day I like. You know, the thing I do best.

Oh, Annoying HR, There You Are Again

Oh, HR, you have been kind of quiet, how I have not missed you so.

HR asked me to prepare all of this highly sensitive information for them. I wasn't, really, sure why they didn't already have these figures? They do have the information, as it is all information that comes from them in the first place, but they are either too lazy, or too stupid, (I know which one I'm going for) to collate it for themselves.  

I questioned the need for me to do it, but Boris told me to do it. (One of the disadvantages to not doing the Finance Manger's job, especially when you have done the Finance Manager's job, is that, at times, you can get out ranked.) Boris seems to be sucking up to these bitches big time. (Oh, I've been watching too many gay standup comics picking up 'these bitches' from them)

The Giant PonyTail asked me for the info, so being the good little surf that I am, I provided it, spreadsheets with passwords.

Today, as if she just had to be annoying, or stupid, one last time, The Giant PonyTail told me that the passwords didn't work on the spreadsheets. (Oh, I know, we should be discussing the meaning of life)

So, I tried them myself, and they worked just fine. Grrrr!

So, I sent a clarification email. Capitals for the first two digits, then lowercase after that, no spaces. (the only thing I left off at the end was 'stupid')

The Giant (annoying) Ponytail emailed me back, stating that she understood how the passwords work, but they still didn't work.

I sent her new copies of the password protected spreadsheets, which again, I tested first.

No. The passwords don't work. She said she even copy pasted them, like that was something she did on her own initiative.

So, I sent her the spreadsheets without passwords.

Now, I am just waiting to be chewed out for sending sensitive information unprotected. She would. HR are that, I want to say vindictive, and while that is also true, I'll say two faced.

Why do I have to continually deal with these morons. I ask you?

Grrrrr! HR? They should all be shipped off to an island somewhere for the terminally annoying.

Actually, if the country is looking for people to deport, with the racists and the conservative voters, and inarticulate, lying red-haired wannabes, HR clowns could go too.

I did have a run in with one of the Sydney twats. (one of the dumbest) She essentially said to me the equivalent of she couldn't change a spreadsheet because it had already been saved. (I mean as dumb as a box of rocks)

I sent back, I guess what you would call, a borderline, incredulous in tone email response. (I couldn't help it)

The next thing I have The Midget standing in my office, starting with the line, "Your friend the brainless cretin..." (Okay, she didn't say the brainless cretin, that is simply what I heard) 

The Midget and I had a discussion about it. 

Then I pulled out my secret weapon. The Melbourne HR chick is great. Yeah, sure, standing amongst the bunch of her idiot HR colleagues, it wouldn't be hard to shine, but she is genuinely the exception to the dumb bitch HR rule. And not only that, she is really nice and a pleasure to work with (a revelation, I tell you, makes such a change from the snarling, hissing bitches with which I usually have to deal). I put her on the case, and I haven't hear from Bozo the Clown in Sydney again.

A Walk In The Park

 

I left the office early, after thinking 'fuck it' around 2.15pm. 

Sam was ready to take Otto for a walk, when I got home, so we walked to the park.

It was a glorious day for a walk in the park. Sparkling, near perfect day.

There is an interesting feeling about the day when you get out into it early on a work day. I guess it's kind of naughty and nice. 😀

My Day In The Office

It's my day in the office, and you know how much I love that.

I'd finished my breakfast and was just starting to get my shit together and it started to rain. I have to spend, what I condsider, a pointless day in the office, and now I have to make my way there in the rain. Oh, yes, I am very happy about that.

Momentarily, I consider working from home because of the rain, I don't know? Should I?

However, the rain stopped almost as quickly as it started and I suddenly just appear to be a whinger. Haha.

I’m in the office at 6:30am.

The Midget comes to tell me that Boris is sick and won’t be working. Then Boris messages me to say she won’t working like she is rubbing it in. Grrrr!

The yappy American chick starts up as soon as she gets in. I can hear her even with both our office doors closed. Every sentence she utters ends up being semi hysterical by the end of it.

She never shuts up with her annoying American accent.

She banged on today about wanting to know what her mother was thinking when she gave birth to her.

Then she banged on about whether or not her father had the latest iPhone in heaven

Gibberish. I reckon she must just like the sound of her own voice. Truely.

The sun shone outside. Gazing out the window 30 floors up.

1:30pm. I reckon I’m finished for the day. I just have to wait until 3pm now. I’m listening to Joan Armatrading on my headphones. Her jazz album.

I left at 2.25pm. I thought fuck it. Boris was away sick. The Big Poo is still on leave. Just The Midget, and when she disappeared into a meeting, I grab my bag and was out the door as quick as…

It was colder outside than I anticipated, that was kind of unexpected.

My Shopping Day Journal

11:42am. We walk Otto to Victoria Street.

It’s warm outside, the day is warm. Warm and sunny. The Sun is shining down beautifully, it’s like summer. It is an easy walk to Abbottsford in the sun.

As we approach Nicholson Street, a guy turns right out of the left lane of Victoria Street turning right into Nicholson Street in front of the right hand turn traffic, at speed when his light turns green. 

“Jasus!” I say out loud.  Idiot, I think.

12:03pm. Otto and I wait in the entrance to The Hive, where we have both stretched out on the cool tiles. Otto lies out to cool his tummy, I am sure, as Sam disappears into the centre and does the shopping.

It was warm walking down here, the son was warm, er sun. (I’m sure my dictation is gay) It’s actually nice to be out of the son, er sun for a moment, in the shade. I’d hate to be one of those people who starts to complain about the heat as soon as we get it, I’m not gonna be that person.

12:05pm. A woman walks past and makes an ‘Oh’ face when she sees Otto lying against my leg.

A good looking shaggy haired guy in a white t-shirt, who winks at Otto, but I pretend he winks at me, walks into the centre.

A good looking guy in a singlet and baggy shorts, – which is what I should’ve worn, – with great legs, comes out of the centre. He has on Harry Potter glasses.

12:07pm. The menace who turned right out of the left lane in Victoria Street in front of the traffic, when we first got here, is back and now does a U-turn in front of everybody in Nicholson Street. The Man is a fucking menace in his grey beige four-wheel-drive Mazda.

A guy walks out of the centre in a tight grey t-shirt and blue shorts that are so tight across his bubble butt I’m sure you could see him fart, has a bandaged up wrist and arm, with a splint and strapping. He turns up Nicholson Street and disappears.

12:11pm. A hot black chick in shorts and a singlet comes out of the centre. A middle-aged Asian woman with a big floppy hat also comes out of the centre. A cute, stocky, dark haired guy dressed all in black with a black leather apron goes into the centre. (I presume he is a baker, or a butcher, I check for wax on his fingers) A middle-aged lady in multicoloured Candy striped tights goes into the centre. A 20 year-old guy in a baggy T-shirt and baggy corduroy shorts, with bandy legs, wearing thongs goes into the centre. A fat middle-aged man with a bad bleach dye job in shorts and a Tweety Bird T-shirt that has some Tweety Bird saying on the front goes into the centre. The shaggy head guy in the white T-shirt leaves the centre with his shopping.

A nuffy Asian guy says hello to Otto. I presume he’s been ‘imbibing’ as he is chewing rather furiously and he walks straight into one of the bollards at the entrance right there.

12:14pm. A sexy Indian guy heads into the centre in a pale blue T-shirt and black shorts that are so tight you could play drums on his arse crack.

A sexy shaggy haired, young guy in basketball shorts, black with white trim around the edges, with great legs, and a beefy arse, goes into the centre.

A really tall, skinny, 30 year-old guy leaves the centre with his red shopping jeep.

12:16pm. A line of really tall, elderly African women in colourful long dresses, cardigans and wraps around their heads leave the centre.

A 30 year-old man, with someone who looks like his father, with his daughter dressed up as a pale blue fairy, leaves the centre. The two men each hold one of the fairy’s hands. She does a little jump in the air as if she is in her favourite position to be.

"You kind of wrapped your lead around me," I say to Otto, when I suddenly realise he’s done more than a circle around me. Tied up, I was. Secured by dog lead – and that's not usually until after midnight in a darkened room somewhere with a man in leather. 😬 I had to peel the lead off me again with varying degrees of cooperation from Otto.

12:18pm. Sam comes out of the centre with the shopping to drop it off and get empty shopping bags. He says he saw Mike shopping in the centre, the mate who wants to come and stay.

A man walks past with an excitable Staffy that seems to want to get to Otto, and, of course, Otto fires up at the thought. “No, you don’t have to respond,” I say to him.

A sexy young 18 year old guy, with black hair and a deep red t-shirt that really suits his dark looks, in black shorts and headphones walks into the centre. Olive skin, hairy legs, and a great arse on him.

The man with the Tweety bird T-shirt, and the bad hair bleach job, exits the centre with a large gold can of beer in his hand. (I'd be asleep in a few hours if I drank that much beer now, I think)

12:19pm. A sexy guy in long blue shorts and a white t-shirt with his equally sexy girlfriend in little blue shorts and long legs, heads into the centre.

12:20pm. A really handsome Asian guy all in black, with thick black hair, comes out of the centre with his Caucasian girlfriend to whom he is prattling away, almost sounds like he’s Man Splaining things to her, maybe? Grimace.

A really fat woman in a long black skirt walks into the centre with her fat boyfriend in shorts and a white T-shirt. There’s a lot of them out the front, their stomachs enter the centre seconds before the rest of them do.

The plain, thin, blonde chick, in a mauve American wrestling style jump suit, who walked into the centre talking loud loudly on her phone, exits the centre still talking loudly on her phone.

12:22pm. A big solid Asian guy, with a handsome face, in small black shorts and a small black T-shirt enters the centre with his girlfriend in matching small black shorts and a small black T-shirt. He takes her hand as they walk through the door.

The really fat boyfriend & girlfriend have got bags of takeaway food and leave the centre.

12:23pm. Sam reappears and we cross Nicholson Street to Minh Phat supermarket.

12:25pm. A blond haired, blue eyed boyfriend in white shorts that are hugging him nicely, heads off up Nicholson Street with his gorgeous girlfriend who is wearing tiny little shorts. They look like the perfect couple, I can’t help but imagine them fucking. (not really sure why? Maybe I'm just a perve? Shrug? I'm sure there are worse things.) (I remember at a dance party years ago, a hot young [out of it] straight couple wanted to take me home and show me how they fucked. I lost them during the night, so I never did. I occasionally think about them)

The cute solid guy in black shorts and a black top with his gorgeous girlfriend in matching black shorts and a black top leave the centre still holding hands.

12:26pm. An adorable 18 year-old Asian guy in black shorts and a black top and a khaki Nike backpack walks past, he’s just beautiful.

12:28pm. The beautiful young guy in a white T-shirt and long blue shorts and his beautiful girlfriend in a blue singlet leaves the centre.

A handsome Asian guy with a really deep voice [makes me think about his balls instantly] comes across to a parked Volkswagen Passat station waggon and gets into the passenger seat while his girlfriend gets into the driver seat and drives them away.

12:32pm. It feels hotter now more so than it did before. The day is heating up.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Suddenly there’s a lull and the day suddenly seems kind of quiet. Still. All I think about is the slight breeze.

12:34pm. An amazing white Mercedes convertible comes along and does a weird pushy U-turn into the middle of the traffic, so it can head back the other way.

12:35pm. A Panda comes along in yellow high viz and a bike and Otto leaps to his paws. He has a thing for Pandas.

12:37pm. A slick back haired guy and a shorter Asian girl both with American accents, that piece the normal Aussie speech barrier, pull up in a Queensland registered Mercedes. They get out and they are just talking like Americans do, non-stop and loud, with far more words than we would ever put in a sentence. She is saying something about always needing her phone on her, as he lights a cigarette.

A pale skinned guy gets out of a car in a white muscle top with tattoos all over his arms and legs. I can’t help but think guys like him hate themselves.

A Bernese Mountain dog comes along with his owners and Otto gets all growly and barky and leaps about. "

"What’s going on? What the hell is wrong with you? Bad boy! Otto? What? What the hell? Stop it. No!" 

Sam reappears at 12:38pm.

We walk up behind the Burnese Mountain Dog and his owners now standing at the lights waiting to cross. I say to Sam, I think Otto was still a bit hyped up from the Staffy that wanted to have a go at him, when he barked at the Burnese Mountain Dog just a bit earlier, but he seems to be over it now. He no longer cared about the Burnese Mountain Dog as we stood behind it at the lights.

12:40pm. We’re at the butcher in Victoria Street.

12:44pm. Sam comes out of the butcher and he goes to the nearest pork roll shop to get pork rolls for lunch.

It’s warm and breezy, at least there’s a bit of a fresh air blowing.

An old Asian woman walks past with a baby pusher stacked full of bags of what look like grain.

Three old Asian women gathered together in the middle of the footpath yapping away, they sound like chooks clucking. Or chooks cackling, when they laugh. I kind of like it. Who can ever be against people who speak another language, I ask you. It makes the world more interesting. It is probably just jealousy of people who are cleverer. It's what multiculturalism is all about. A richer more vibrant society in which to live. Australia is the most successful multicultural society in the world, and you have to love it, otherwise I feel you must be dead inside.

There are men in shorts. There are men in T-shirts. There are women in sun hats. There are women in sleeveless tops.

12:49pm. There’s a man in a puffer jacket, which I can’t quite believe.

A man does a screaming U-turn into a car park on the other side of the road in a brand-new beige/silver Mercedes G wagon. He goes to the butcher and reappears moments later with a bag of something, clearly a meat product emergency, I think. His G waggon doors click vary satisfyingly.

There is the usual number of losers marching up and down continually. The druggies of Victoria Street all look like they are heading somewhere in a hurry, then not long after they come back the other way looking as they are heading somewhere in a hurry, invariably chewing, often blinking weirdly, sometimes sweating noticeably, possibly talking to themselves.

12:53pm. A handsome shaggy head guy in baggy jeans and a dark blue knitted jumper cuddles with his much shorter Asian girlfriend outside the pork roll shop. They look cute together.

Sam reappears at 12:53pm.

1pm. We are starting to walk home and my toe is really hurting suddenly for some reason, and Sam suggests I take the shopping and catch the tram home, so I take the shopping and head to the tram stop.

There are two trams coming when I hobble over to the tram stop, an old one first and a newer one behind. I wait for the second newer one, just because I like newer trams and also because there are quite a few people now waiting at the tram stop and presume they will all take the first tram like lemmings over a cliff.

I get a seat right at the front of a 109 tram, the trams with space to stand right at the front in front of the seats, when an old Asian lady gets on with her shopping Jeep, which she parks at the front then tells me to move across the aisle to a vacant seat and give her the seat in which I was about to sit.

“Oaky,” I say. 

It takes me a second to gather up all my shopping bags again, and as I am doing that a toothless loser gets on and takes the seat I was moving to. A cute young guy, in a Swinburne t-shirt, also standing at the front sees what just happened and offers to help me with my shopping, “No, it’s oaky thank you anyway,” I say. At the same time the woman in the next seat to the seat in which I was about to sit, gets up and stands too, I suspect giving up her seat for the old woman with the shopping trolley as well. (a lot happens in a few seconds) The old woman takes the window seat the woman now standing vacated, and I sit down in my original seat. However, the toothless loser gets off before the tram moves again, – you know, all a part of that constant marching up and down – so I get the seat across the aisle, that I was moving to, in the end.

The cute young guy with the Swinburne shirt on who offered to help me with my shopping bags is adorable, as he stands in front of me looking down at his phone.

1:08pm. I get off the tram. 

As I walk up my street, with my three environmentally friendly shopping bags I suddenly wonder if I had four? Did I have four? Two over each shoulder? Did I? Have I left one on the tram? Surely, I haven’t done that. It is a beautifully sunny day as I walk up my street, but I am still wondering about the number of shopping bags that I should have?

I text Sam about the number of shopping bags?

Sam text me back to say he bought muffins from Baketico. My favourite muffin comes from Baketico. No mention of the number of shopping bags I should have. 

Hmmmm. I mentally visualise holding the shopping bags in my hand when Asian granny ordered me out of my seat on the tram, and I had three bags in my hands, one slung between two others. Goodo, I think.

1:14pm. I’m home.

1.20pm. Sam and Otto are home.

A woman gets on a bus with her baby. The bus driver looks at her baby and says, “That is the ugliest baby I have ever seen.”

The woman is visibly upset. She storms off down the aisle of the bus sitting on the seat at the back next to a man reading his newspaper.

The man sitting next to her sees that she is upset and asks her if she is okay.

She says, “That bus driver is so rude, he has just insulted me and my family.”

The man says, “That is just terrible, you should go up there and give him a piece of your mind. Go ahead. I’ll hold your monkey for you.”

We’ve eaten pork rolls for lunch, and we are getting comfortable for an afternoon lounging around on the couches in the lounge room when I remember Chaka Khan released her new album yesterday. 

Oh, what to do, I think.

Sam tells me I could go tomorrow and get it. “They will still have it then,” he says.

I am not convinced by that, and I think about heading into the city.

I call the record shop and they put one aside for me. Now, I know they would hold that until tomorrow, but I really think I want it now. 

So, I get ready and leave for the city.

2:45pm. I get on the 86 tram which is busy, full of people.

I would have walked normally, but with my sore toe, I decide on the tram.

I get on a number 11, at Brunswick Street, which is also busy with people.

2:51pm. I’m at St Vincent’s Plaza.

I’m listening to Keith Urban. 

The sun is hot, and God knows we like a hot sun.

I’ve just missed a number 30. But a number 30 turns up coming from the other direction. The number 30 turns around at St Vincent’s Plaza.

2:54pm. The number 30 is coming back.

2:57pm. The tram fills up cnr Victoria Parade & La Trobe Street with people. So many people.

3pm. I’m off the tram at Swanston Street.

3:03pm. I’m in the record shop at the registers.

After I pay for that CD, I go over and sniff about the CD racks.

Cute Andy sees me – now older Andy, sad face, we’re all getting old if Andy’s getting old – and says hello. I realise now he was the person I spoke to on the phone. He is/was a music colleague of my ex-boyfriend Lauri. He used to be so adorable. He asks about the bulldogs. I fill him in on the bulldog history. We chat a bit. He’s nice.

3:35pm. I’m walking home. There was no tram in sight up La Trobe Street, so I stared walking. For some reason my toe is no longer hurting.

I cross over Victoria Parade. I walk through the Carlton Gardens.

3:46pm I’m walking down Gertrude Street, when a big, handsome blond guy walks towards me. He looks up from his phone as we pass each other, he smiles as our eyes connect. Adorable, I think.

3:54pm. I’m home.

I'm not sure that I like Chaka Khan's new album, Chakzilla. Too much Sia and not enough funk.

David Is Home

David calls me, he is back from traipsing around LA, Austria, London, for a birthday party, working in Switzerland with his sycophants, home via New York and shows on Broadway. (His yearly trip OS)

"I was exhausted," he said.

"Well, you did quite a bit," I said.

"I've just slept for 28 hours."

"Well you are famous for that, luv."

"I didn't wake at all."

"Not to eat?"

"Not to eat."

"You are famous for eating, too, let's face it."

"Well, speaking of which, I'm now going to have some food, pop two valium and head back to bed."

"You know if you laid off the pills…"

"There you go, talking about things you know nothing…"

"How many prescription pills do you take every day?"

"You have no idea what you are talking about."

"Seriously?"

"Good night."

It was the middle of the afternoon.

It was such a perfect day weatherise.

The electrician came and put up the new light fitting in Charlie's room. He's so nice my electrician, but he does like a chat. He told me I needed to re-wire my circuit breaker box (is that what it is called?) because I have no safety switches. He didn't understand why he'd never told me before. He booked it in for next Thursday. A couple of grand, apparently. Yay! 👍

Sam went back to work after the electrician had gone. (you know, upstairs)

I headed out into the perfect day with Otto for a walk. It really was a glorious day. We came home via the dog park where I let Otto off his lead to get him used to other dogs without Brun by his side. There were no other dogs in the dog park, yet again.

Friday Home With My Favourite Human

Sam took one of his rare sickies, and it felt like Saturday all day with him being here. So, he was here to organise me about the stuff we need to do around the house. I rode my bike over to the heritage house supplies shop to get a brass plug and a brass switch to replace the two broken ones we have at home.

Before I left I had a shower and got myself ready. I took the bandage off my toe for the first time, after a couple of days of it being on, and it was a gruesome ordeal, with the gauze stuck to whatever it is you call what you have under you toenail, exposed on mine due to my shattered nail. And it hurt.

After that, my toe continued to hurt, for the rest of the day. Walking was a bit of a struggle but, surprisingly, it was okay riding my bike.

I got the info on the plugs & switches, after which, I hobbled around a couple of opshops, before I peddled home.

It was a really, lovely sunny day in which to be out riding, so that was nice and, as I said, my toe didn't hurt while I was on my bike.

I came home and uploaded the CDs I bought to iTunes, and I uploaded the movies I bought to iMovies, well, my own iMovies, movie collection.

I spent the rest of the day on YouTube, foot elevated.

A gay buddy, who wants to come and stay for a while, came over to see how Otto reacted to him being here. Otto can be a bit protective about the house and visitors. I'm pretty sure he wants to come get a bit of 'gay action', my buddy, not Otto, in the inner suburbs. So, we'll see.

Sam took Otto for a walk, as I didn't feel like struggling to walk to do that.

Why So Cold?

Brrrr! Why is it so cold, all of a sudden? What happened to the warmer weather? Oh, yes, I know, it is going to be 27 degrees on Sunday, but that doesn't warm us up today. I reckon it is colder these last few days than it ever was during winter. And, I don't really even feel the cold, and I feel frozen.

You really need to stick your hands down your boyfriend's pants to warm them up. Chuckle.

A bit broke off my tooth 2 days ago and now I have a dentist appointment this afternoon. What a day to be going to the dentist. I hope it warms up by then. Nobody wants to go to the dentist on a cold day.

I got my tooth filled. You know, I find those contoured dentist chairs so comfortable, I can almost doze off while the dentist is filling my tooth. And I don't mind a man having his fingers in my mouth either. 😀

Going For A Walk In The Rain

Last night, going to bed I stubbed my toe on the top step of the steps upstairs. It hurt, but I didn't really think anything about it. I went on to brush my teeth and then I went and sat on the bed and wrote some of my journal. The next thing Sam‘s in the bathroom and he says, "what the hell’s been going on in here?" 

I reply, "what are you talking about?"

He then he asks if I’m bleeding?

"No," I say. Then I looked down at my toe, which is covered in blood and bleeding everywhere. I’d shattered the very tip of my toenail and I'd left blood all over the bathroom floor. So I head downstairs to patch it up, but Sam comes down and he does it for me, wrapping it up in gauze and medical tape.

So, I have a sore toe today.

Sam went to the office today. Charlie left the house early. So it was just me and Otto working all day. I’ve had so little work to do for work these last couple of days it’s been very strange, so I’ve been writing posts for my historic blogs from my old journals.

2pm. Otto and I go for a walk. It’s sunny and when we start off. I hobble a bit because of my injured big toe. We walk down to Johnston Street, we cross over and walk down Napier Street, when we get to the Rose Hotel the rain just buckets down. There’s no shelter there anywhere. We tried to hide in the Rose Hotel’s doorway, both me and Otto. Otto wasn’t keen about standing in the rain either, let me tell you, so he snuggled right in close to me in the doorway. But it didn’t give us much shelter and we both got saturated. The rain just kept falling on us. I desperately looked up and down the street, but there is no shelter there and we both just kept getting wet.

When it died off a bit, we headed towards Brunswick Street and we found some shelter in a new apartment build's driveway. We waited there for a bit. Then we walked to Brunswick Street, the rain still falling lightly. My toe still making itself known.

We walked up Brunswick Street, saturated in the cold breeze. My toe was kind of throbbing. Brunswick Street is the long way round but the only way to get any shelter, what little shelter there is in Brunswick Street, which isn’t much. All the time my big toe is throbbing from the walking and the running to get out of the rain, and the rain, and the continuing rain. When we got further up Brunswick Street the sun came out and, so at least that was a bit warming, while being wet in the breeze.

Eventually we got home, we were both soaked. I just got straight into the shower and had a shower, but I had to hold my foot out of the water as it is all bandaged up good and proper, and I didn't want to get all that wet. That wasn't easy, trying to shower with one foot stuck out of the water, while you balance on one foot. I put on clean clothes, the one nice thing about getting caught in a down pour. 

I towelled Otto off. He had a bath on Sunday so he smells lovely anyway. 

What a day to have a busted toe.

My Day In The Office

I'm off to the office today. I have got out of it for the last few weeks, but, I guess, I have to make an appearance occasionally, as stupid as that is.

I was going to pull a sickie today, I still have it in the back of my mind, despite it being 15 minutes before I leave. But? Nah.

It's the first Monday back with Boris, so, I guess I should go. Grrrr. I so don't want to.

I have been constipated for days, not really sure why, but the thought of going to the office today fixed that. Haha.

The Big Poo has been on holidays, I'm wondering if he still is this week? Dunno. 

I guess I have to go. Sad face.

It’s still nice leaving early, 6am, as the day begins, being out in it, even if it is lighter now as I leave the house. I do like being up early and getting going early, it’s the best part of the day.

6:26am.  Swanston Street.

A guy gets on and immediately takes out his contact lenses. Er? That’s not something you see every day, it was like a scene out of Doctor Who, if there had been slurping and sucking noises, I wouldn’t have been surprised. If he looked up and had no eyes at all, well, ah…

6:29am. William Street.

Adorable 20 year old blond window cleaning boy in really tight black jeans, is a good look when he bends over to pick up his bucket. An offer too good to refuse.

6:30am. I’m in the office.

I have no emails, that’s weird, and a first? What’s going on, I wonder?

I head to the kitchen for coffee. The coffee machine isn’t up and running. I go up to the 26th floor to see if their coffee machine is working, but no.

I come back down to our floor and I play drums on the blank coffee machine screen, and it fires up.

I have to wait half an hour while the damn thing warms up. I read all the news papers, and eat 3 chocolate biscuits, while that happens.

7:05am. I’m back at my desk with a coffee.

Now, about these emails. Nope. None. That is a first. And I suspect a problem.

The big Poo is away, probably doing a triathlon across the Himalayas, knowing him. The Midget wasn't in the office. Boris wasn't in the office. So, I packed up and went home at 10.30am.

A Gorgeous Sunny Day

It is almost like summer, today, 25 degrees. It is the first time we have felt summer in the air since winter. Lovely. Really nice. We went out for lunch, that was nice too.

Sam is asleep on the big couch.

Milo is asleep in my lap, making it difficult to write this. And, you know, cats are all that accomodating, not moving.

What to Write?

 

I can't think of anything to write today, we didn't do much. I did come across this photo, though, so let's just look at him. Winner of Big Brother some years ago, Ryan.

It Was A Glorious Day

It was a gloriously sunny day today, after a cool start. I went for a blood test this morning, and it was cold riding there at 8.15am. But, it was a really a lovely day, in the end. There are lots of house renovations and tradies in our street. It must be the season for it.

What is it Spring? Is it when everyone gets their mojo back after Winter?

Otto, and I, of course went for a walk taking advantage of the sunshine. We went mid afternoon when all the tradies were packing up and heading home for the weekend.

We came home via the dog park where I let Otto off his lead, getting him used to going on his own in a dog park without Brun, but there weren't many dogs in the park at that time of day so none came over to say hello to him.

Vote Socialists

I have a vote Socialists up on my gate. I don't necessarily hold Socialist views, although I do think there are some socialist ideas that are worthwhile.

Einstein agued for socialism and against capitalism back in 1949 and to briefly mention his points, capitalism creates Economic Anarchy, Wealth Inequality, Corrupted Democracy, Media Control. Any of those look familiar to you today?

A really cute, smart girl came to the door, who was full of enthusiasm and positivity and she asked me, after we were done chatting, if she could put a vote socialist sign on the gate, and I said yes.

It amused me as a foil for all the inaccurate bullshit conservatives go on with about socialism. (If you counter such a conservative doofus in future, ask them this simple question, Can you tell me what socialism is? They never can despite railing against it whole heartedly)

I thought it was a good counter action to the rise of far right politicians on our political landscape, especially that ugly, inarticulate red head.

It amused me because of the way socialism triggers right wing muppets.

Why I am writing this is that someone has been defacing the poster on my gate constantly with irrelevant stickers. I keep peeling the stickers off. But it is amazing how triggered this person is. Why waste you time coming back continually to do that.

I've had Greens placards on my gate for years around election time when Adam Bandt was the member and his placard was never defaced once over all the years.

David

David has been around the world these last few weeks - Austria, London, New York - before he ended up in Switzerland on Guru duty attending to his sycophants.

He told me he was over it, exhausted from trying to do too much before he even got to the real work he went to do.

It was freezing here this morning, really fucken cold. It always cheers David up when he knows it is cold in Melbourne, as he moved out of Melbourne for that very reason.

So, I sent him a freezing cold emoji with the word Siberia. He said it made his day, cheered him up no end. He told me that I always know the right thing to say.

I'm still cold. Brrrrr!

Max the temp Departs to Places Unknown

Max the temps last day. See ya. You with your crazy hard right political views and conspiracy theories. There is a definite type, you know, one of the stupid people. I didn't engage with her on her political beliefs. 🤮

She thanks me for being so patient and kind. She asked me for a reference.

So, there you go, Boris' 6 weeks off every (fucken) year is done, and now she is back to work.

And I didn't have to do her work for her while she was away. I'm glad I said no I wouldn't do it.

The main reason was that they didn't give me a pay rise this year, or a bonus, and yet they expected me to do Boris' relief for no extra pay. Oh, piss off, I thought.

The Big Poo did apologise to me personally for the lack of pay rise and bonus this year, he said he recommended it, but HR knocked it back. Really? I hate to be cynical, but coming from the CFO of the Southern Hemisphere, I kind of find that hard to believe, or, perhaps you just didn't try hard enough, hey bud?

He promised he'd definitely make it up to me in the next round of pay rises and bonus'. I'm kind of wondering if that will now happen with me refusing to play along.

Boris is Back

Boris was back, she had a good holiday. She only got back late yesterday. She said she couldn't sleep ontop of the late return home.

She laughed. "I don't know what I was thinking when I booked that?"

I noticed the change immediately speaking to someone I didn't have to explain things to, as apposed to someone I had to explain everything to. I could breathe out.

It's good she's back. She's much more diplomatic with the punters than I am. Apparently, Max the temp got good reports on that score when Boris and I and The Midget had a catch up on Zoom, naturally.

I worked from home. Boris worked from home. Max the temp was the only one in the office today. I wonder if she thought we'd deserted her? Nyr? I doubt it. She is a busy little bee.

I thought Boris and Max the temp were doing a hand over today, but apparently that is tomorrow. So Max the temp gets two extra days.

I had an easy day. 50% work, 50% editing my old blog posts.

3pm. Sam and I took Otto for a walk.

Paying For The News?

The news in the morning is pretty boring, just repeats and rehashes of stories that have been going for days. And The Guardian seems to be gearing up for a user pays model, or, at the very least, some data harvesting.

There is the Nepal thing, it is a terrible thing, image that happening, ugh? And I guess, I am heartened by them still pulling people out of the mud, thumbs up. I guess? It's better to hear that, than not. I suppse?

Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel Palestine. Israel continuing to commit genocide on the Palestinians all the while nobody wants to talk about that.

Iran is fending off the the bloated orange turds attempts to deflect the news from his documented history of sexual abuse in the Epstein Files.

How he's renamed Earth, Planet Trump.

Some chick got depressed and strangled her kids somewhere in Butt-Fuck Nowhere America. Er? Groan. Hands in the air. Not really sure why this is in our news day after day? It's not going to affect my life, nor do I care.

Some hookers, er, exotic dancers went to a hotel room in the middle of the night with five AFL football players, um, er, and are now claiming sexual assault? Nyr? Why? Um? Oh yes, er, you should be safe in your work environment, no matter what you do, of course you should, but what are they claiming, they went to the hotel room to do the player's tax returns? Really, the best place for this is the courts, not the news day after day after day.

Leftist insurgents are storming the midterms – just don’t call them all democratic socialists, ug, American politics. I'm beginning to feel the same about the orange bag of shit's voice, as I did about Tony Abbott's way back when - almost equally as repulsive men - (stop the goats, ditch the progress, people like me) if I never hear that voice again...

And of course, the rise of our very own nightmare, right wing, red haired bitch from Queensland. Also on repeat. What an ugly slag she really is.

Oh yes, and the best one, American football is inexplicably being played in Melbourne, why? I have no idea. When I googled the reason why, Google claimed there were 6.6 million Australian fans. What? They are claiming that something like 25% of the Australian population are American football fans? Really?

My point being, the most interesting news article I found today was the rise of cat seducers, where neighbours actively attempt to steal their neighbour’s cats away by feeding them and making them feel at home in their place, often even after being asked not to. I read this article while patting Milo on the couch next to me.

Of course, I am always interested in celebrity deaths, there just should be a few more of them to spice up my morning read.

Mostly now, my reading of the news in the morning takes just minutes as I pass over nearly all the news articles provided.

My point being, the news providers have a tough job trying to convince me to pay them for any of this.

I have no idea why people get so invested in the news, on repeat? Does anyone else have any ideas why?

No, I Don't Work Fridays

Sam headed off to the office early this morning muttering about not wanting to go, and hating life, and why he can't be like me and work 3 days per week, and generally hating life.

"Bye, honey," I said to him from the front gate. I watched him disappear up the street like I always do.

Then I took up my position on the couch for the rest of the day. And quite lovely it has been too. Otto has been asleep with his head on my thigh for the last hour.

I got my AI images completed for the archive blog year I have been doing for the last week. I'm guessing there are still a few more years that need images generated, and I will get to them too.

I like working on my blog. I find it fulfilling. And you know, I quite like being home on my own with Ottie, he's not bossy, he doesn't ask me when was the last time I went to the gym, or have I cleaned the bathroom. He's just happy to go with whatever I want to do. We just hang together, and it's all calm and relaxed and a good, lazy, time is had by all.

I chatted to a couple of friends.

I ate tuna for lunch, and a blueberry muffin I went and got on the spur of the moment, which turned out to be yesterdays, so that was quite disappointing. A bakery selling day old muffins, really that shouldn't be.

Anyway, the sun is shining, and once I have finished my coffee, and my stale muffin, I am going to take Otto for a walk.

Lazy Thursday

I'm home all day in the lounge room generating AI images for the posts that don't have images in my blog archive. I've got through most of it now, no many to go.

Otto is a bulldog looking for trouble all day. Sam requests for me to come upstairs and remove him half way through the morning.

It gets really cold at midday and I feel frozen so I build a fire.

It is just a lazy Thursday. That's it.

Or as Miranda Priestly would say, that's all.

Someone said, That's all she wrote, but I could quite possibly take offence at being referred to as a she. Chuckle.