Gym Tuesday

Sam goes into the office early, well, the normal time people go to offices. I realised, he has been going into the office on Tuesdays without a word. Unusual for him, as he has worked from home since 2019. He did get a big promotion though.

I have to go to the office on Mondays, and you don't hear the end of me whining about it.

I decided to go to the gym earlyish, 8.45am, and get it done. Boris doesn't start until 9.15am/9.30am and it takes he a little longer to get going. So, if I go at 8.45am, I'm almost done in the gym by the time she opens her eyes and starts to look about.

As I got on the exercise bike, a handsome lad in black shorts that were hugging him, bent right over in front of me first thing. Well, there's a thing, I thought, as I gaze at his sexy arse pointing at me.

Cute, sexy Asian boy was there. He fills out his pale grey track pants impressively.

Tall, skinny gay guy was there. He always wears a muscle shirt and really small shorts, which I always think accentuate his skinny physique.

I do like a empty gym in which to workout.

I was back at 9.50am. It is kind of exhausting to come home to two wiggling jumping 70 kilos of bulldog, although lovely too.

I didn't hear from Boris until 10.30am, I reckon that is about the time her first coffee kicks in

Now, I'm going to the bakery to get a muffin to reward myself. Fresh Muffin Tuesday, yum, yum.

In The Office

6am. I leave home. It’s still dark. I guess when we’re heading towards winter, it’s still dark is an obvious statement.

I pulled down posters from lampposts along Gertrude Street. Nyr. Just tidying up the place as I head to the tram stop.

6:15am. I’m at St. Vincent’s Plaza waiting for a tram. Someone’s Italian father joins me in the dark. He stands, I sit, and we wait.

6:21am. A tram turns up.

There’s a tall lunchy guy in his baggy shorts with tight legs.

Everyone is staring down at their phones. Do you think there is something in that? Everyone glued to a small screen.

Put you phones down guys and look at the world around you. What it go by, I think.

The tram is overheated. I sit here with a view straight down the car to the front, out to the road and I watch the tram jostle about as we move along the road.

6:27am. 101 Collins Street.

6:31am. William Street.

There’s a guy walking his small dog coming towards me.

6:35am. I’m in the lift

6.35am. I'm in the office. Yay me. That art work I have used (for this post) is depressingly cheerful for a Monday. What was I thinking?

All the blinds are pulled down, as I walk into our department, what, do I work with a bunch of fucking vampires? What do these people have against sun light? But, I guess, I can only really control the blinds in my office, despite the temptation I feel to go and open them all.

The first thing I do is smash a cup in the kitchen. I jumped at the sound it made going off like a gun shot. Yeah, good one, Christian. There is no broom and pan? I do my best with paper towel.

I’m swearing my head off, calling everyone a cunt, chuckle. Of course, I’m the only person here, But you know, it feels good.

I’m reading my emails, and they are all shitting me already, and none of them have even arrived in the office yet?

7am. I’m swearing, what is it they say, like a sailor, out loud, but of course I’m the like the tree falling in the forest. I can tell you it feels fucking good though.

7:35am. I’m looking at some journals, what the fuck is sister2sister? Is that when the chicks get to lick each other’s snatches out? That’s when the straight boys get their cocks out and wank off over the two gals going at it, like a toey wolf pack, despite what nice ladies might tell you about their sons. Those boys would happily jerk each other off if they get to watch a couple of chicks licking each other’s verJayJays.

Many a time I’ve seen guys going at it in dark rooms (sure they’ve been gay guys, but straight guys aren’t any different) sticking their cocks into the nearest hole, all heaving and groaning as if they are one single living organism.

7:47am. Nice boys, nice boys, yeah they’re all nice boys until you introduced a bit of snatch, and then they’re not such nice boys generally, despite what their mothers might say about them.

7:49am. There was Willie in the wolf pack watching their brothers in arms take turns on the drunk girl in the locker room, and Willie was having problems getting off, so Adam helped him out, while he finished himself off, now there’s a nice boy for you. They both shot their loads into both of Adam’s hands while Jeremy took his turn in drunk Kylie on the changing benches. She already had four loads in her, Lachlan, Brendan, Liam and Taylor, who was right before Jeremy.

It’s an ugly business, there is no denying it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

7:49am. AttaBoyBazza with all his muscles arrives.

7:50am. The cute service boy was in with the much admired arse.

7:51am. Cherry, finance chick, was in.

It’s interesting that young gay guys hang around in parks, just for instance, hoping that a couple of strapping lads will turn up and bend them over the nearest park bench taking turns on them until they feel both their loads fill them up. Happy is the twink who is stumbling out of the park in the wee small hours struggling to pull their jeans up as a couple of anonymous dude’s juices dribble out their butt holes.

Why is it that young twinks, who could easily get hurt as much as anyone by big guys have the bravery to put themselves in such a situation and yet chicks are too terrified to do the same kind of thing.

8am. Jason Jones was in.

8:12am. Jason walks back from the printer with his head down looking at a document as he has a habit of doing, so I can freely gaze at his dick bulge in his pants.

I say good morning to him.

Jason says good morning to me.

Jason looks kinda of like Sam. Actually, a lot like Sam. I have thoughts about Jason quite often.

TheBigPoo is in. He is back to his bonkers, cheerful morning attitude, doing impersonations of dogs doing head tilts.

He had his 40th wedding anniversary on the weekend.

The yappy cow who sits outside my office arrives late apparently with stories of her disastrous morning to regale everyone with, kill me now, I think, but fortunately they don’t materialise.

Apparently, I hear later that her lunch let go in her handbag at the train station. No, that is not a smile you see on my face.

10.30am. I have everything pretty much done, I’ve done 4 hours after all, and I’m feeling decidedly bored and am contemplating pulling a sickie and making a run for it. I have that stupid manager’s meeting first.

I think The Midget is working from home? Seriously? So, what am I doing here?

Our meeting is short, none of us really have any issues.

10:40am. I think fuck it after the meeting and I just say straight away that I’m sick and I’m going home. Boris asks me if I’m going to work when I get home and I say yes. “I’ll switch my computer on, sure.”

I tell her it is the continuing stomach problem I have, that I know what it is. And Boris says it’s this place, isn’t it? And I say I wish I could blame it on this place and we both laugh… because we both knew it is that place

The cute service boy says good bye to me by name in the corridor, Bye Christian, it gives me a slight buzz, as I make my way to the kitchen.

I go to the kitchen and get my lunch. I go to grab a couple of bananas to take with me for the tram ride home and I grab a big bunch accidentally and then I’m hesitating with this big bunch in my hand with my satchel open and then after I dither, I just shove the whole lot in my bag and close it and leave. And the whole time the OnlyGoodHRExec is in the kitchen with me, but she has her back to me so I figure it’s okay, but it is kind of risky nonetheless.

10:48am. I’m in the lift going home.

10:53am. I’m on the tram stop and I think I hear a cat and I look up but it’s a man with his baby standing next to me.

I get the tram. The sun is shining.

11:15am. I am home.

The dogs go nuts. Sam puts his hand to his chest and coughs. I smile.

I sign back into work.

The day is easy after that, me, back in my home study where I belong.

Grey Sunday

What a terrible grey kind of day, nothing much to say, the leaves continue to fall from the trees, Autumn is giving a good display, winter is on the way.

We stayed in for most of the day.

Sam had made a big pot of Beef Rendang, so we ate that for lunch, with rice and greens, nice it was too.

Yeah, sure we took the dogs for a walk in the afternoon. 

We checked on some ceramic dog bowls we'd had our eye on in a shop that was finally having a sale. The bowls were $110 each and they weren't included in the sale, of course they weren't.

We got to the bakery, and bought a chocolate croissant and an escargot and we came home and made tea and ate the pastries with the tea.

That was pretty much the day done.

I have to go to the office tomorrow, I hate the company so much for that.

Sam has made me lunch to take with me.

So it is up early and back on the pointless corporate conveyer belt.

Funny, I was looking over my old blogs, adding images retrospectively, some of you may ask why, yeah, well, probably a good question, but I can't help but want to make them as good as they can be. I came across a message from Aby, Don't get caught in some pointless finance job forever, you have greater things to offer life. Ah Aby. Shrug.

Lovely Saturday

I went to the gym after breakfast, yes I did. Right back into it. Not so hard, as it turned out.

We went out to lunch. The sun shone.

The wind blows and the autumn leaves dance in the air about our faces. The wind blows again and autumn leaves fly in the air around our heads. The wind blows again and autumn leaves are blowing up the street.

And that was about all we did, today.

A good Saturday, just what Saturdays were made for.

I fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV. I love that.

My Day Off

Sam's not working today. He's got a mental health day because they have all been working especially hard on a new project. They all got the day off.

Yeah, yay, good for him, there should be more mental health days for everyone. It's nice that successful companies give a bit to their employees.

Having said that, Sam hasn't stopped yapping on all morning. He got a tax bill he's unhappy with and now he has been talking about that endlessly, when I say endlessly, I'm not sure I am conveying the real meaning of it.

Down with the govt, down with the system, how could this happen? Woe is me!

I joked, you sound like you'll be voting for Pauline Hanson next.

He smiled cheekily, and replied it will be One Nation all the way at the next election.

The party that has no answers.

They couldn't do any worse. (that is so often the political intellect of Pauline Hanson voters)

We both laugh.

He's funny. 

Voting for Pauline Hanson? It's a baffling development. Pauline Hanson is ugly Australia. Why would anyone want to vote for the ugliest aspects of Australia by voting for her. She has never done one thing for Australia, other than whinge and complain to bring the attention back to her.

You know all parties get paid per vote received once they get over a certain threshold, I still reckon that is the reason she does it.

Anyway, now Sam is trying to organise me into doing something for the day. He's talking about grocery shopping. Oh, yes, spoil me, let's do that.

I shiver with anticipation.

Back At The Gym

I got myself off the couch at 10.30am and got to the gym.

I thought about the cute guy in the tiny shorts and the colourful tattoos with the big, thick dick, I can't lie, but nothing that interesting happened.

There is an older chick with a young blond trainer. He has terrible over-sized black shorts on that make him look like he has a big girl’s arse. They are not doing him any favours. The older chick has big tits and every time she finishes a rep her t-shirt has kind of bunch at the top of her tits, kind of making them look bigger every time. All I can think is, just imagine lugging those puppies around. No thanks.

There is a bald guy, with an boyish adorable face, dressed all in black also exercising the gym he has a nice tight little arse on him by the look of it.

There is also a tall guy with earmuff headphones on, I think he is one of the trainers.

10:45am. The cute, muscly accountant with the square, black metal glasses who always wears a muscle top arrives. He reminds me of the first guy who had the hots for me when I first came out, so it’s always good to see him.

I start my 20 minutes on the bike. I’m getting back into it quickly. The burn on my legs is bearable already.

The bald guy leaves.

The tall trainer in large, big-girls-arse, shorts and his middle aged female client leaves.

The muscled accountant with the square, black rimmed glasses leaves. Bye honey.

I finish on the bike.

So then, I was working out with one of the big tall trainer, I call Lurch. Just at the same time, you understand, not being trained by. There are a few trainers who work at my gym and they are all really tall.

I listened to the Rolling Stones and did my workout.

So, that's pretty good, I've been four times in the last week, or so, since I got myself back to going.

Good for me.

11:06am. I leave the gym. The muscled accountant, with the square, black rimmed glasses, leaves at the same time. He’d been in the downstairs gym all along doing free weights.

I gaze at his arse in black shorts as I walk down the street behind him.

I re-write my old blogs for the rest of the day.

Late in the afternoon, we take the dogs for a walk.

There is an adorable English boy sitting outside at the Townhall Pub looking at his phone. He says something about Brun as we walk past. Did I bring Brun back because of how cute he was. Yeah, sure I did. (But I would do the same for other people, yes, I would)

“This is Brun,” I say to the cute English boy.

He pats Brun telling Brun how gorgeous he is. You too buddy, I think as I watch on. He says I made his day because he’s obsessed with bulldogs. He smiles at me. Adorable, with an adorable English accent. Takes me back to my days overseas when guys were attracted to me because of my accent.

“Just keep talking,” they would say. Truthfully, that was the American boys, more so than the English lads.

Sticky Fingers

I forget how great Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers really is.

Another good reason for working from home, I get to listen to the music I want and not on headphones.

It's an easy day, and my last for the week, thank you Mick.

Otto is lying at my feet like a big pair of red slippers.