Tuesday At Home

Today, I'm back working from home, yay.

I start early and by lunch I have everything done.

I go out a prune the creeper on the side wall, something I've been meaning to do for however long. The green waste collection comes in the morning. It's nice. I have music in my ears. I get right up the ladder, my fear of heights withstanding.

Then I come back in and catch up my blog.

Gotta love working from home.

Otto hung out with me all day. Brun hung out with Sam upstairs all day.

3pm. I've finished for the day.

I go lie on the couch. I push Milo off. Poor cat, at the bottom of the pecking order. Otto comes and lies on the couch with me as though he is rubbing it into to Milo.

I slept for 2 hours. Lovely.

Sam is really busy at work lately, so he doesn't disturb me until 5pm.

Monday Blues

(I wasn't going to use my journal, but fuck it, I haven't written anything else)

5am. I was up. I have to go into the office. Fuck the world! I’m not really sure what the company gets out of me trapsing into the office?

I get dressed in the dark, into my dark blue office outfit. I kind of like the all dark blue look rather than all black. The all dark blue has a bit more life in it.

It’s cold. Summer is over.

I look at YouTube while I eat my Vegemite toast. One of the YouTubers says the new Stones track is up on a message board, link below. So, I play it. Finally. Yeah, nice. I like it.

I faff about, getting all my shit together.

6:09am. I leave the house. It is still dark.

I’m listening to my Rolling Stones Mixed Tape as I walk up the street in the dark.

An 86 tram comes along just as I get to the first tram stop, so I hop on

There’s a tradie on the tram with a yellow hiviz Hoodie pulled up over his head, he’s teamed that with small, tight, blue shorts. He has great legs. Is that how we like the handsome ones? Head covered, no pants? Maybe? 

“Hey?”

What?

“That is the waistband of my shorts.”

I thought you had your hoodie over your head.

“I can still feel your hand on the buttons to my shorts.”

Oh, come on, stop struggling, let me look at you.

“Hey… stop…” 

This isn’t gonna hurt, well, not permanently. Come on boy, show us yours… Let’s see how big you can make it. 

“Oh! Why are there handcuffs on my wrists?”

Well.

“You’re holding it real tight. Who just blindfold me?”

That’s the way, you’re getting the idea.

“You are really squeezing it.”

Keep swelling it up, come on keep swelling up, let’s see you make it nice and hard.

“Oh god, I never thought another man’s hand…”

See, I thought you could impress us, a strapping guy like you. 

“Oh fuck, that feels good.”

Come on boy, we all wanna have a go.

“Where did the other guys come from?”

Honey for the bees.

“I don’t know? I don’t know? Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhh.”

Your knees are shaking. You’re breathing heavily, suddenly.

“I’ve only ever been with one girl.”

Well, that’s the last time you can say that.

I shake my head and come back to the real world. The shops flash by in the dark.

I get off on the corner in the dark.

There is no tram cnr Brunswick Street so I get walking.

It’s dark.

6:18am. I’m at St Vincent’s Plaza. There are a couple of people waiting on the platform, all looking at their phones in the dark. The light from their screens casts an eery reflection 

6:21am. A pretty 109 comes along.

There is a Cute Asian boy all in black, good shorts, nice legs, I go sit opposite him. He gets off at 101 Collins. 

A skinny dark haired boy in a full matching cream and pale green track suit gets on and takes the Asian boy’s seat opposite. Not much of a bulge. He doesn’t look up from his phone. He looks like the type who would have mental health issues.

I look out the window.

6:28am. We’re at Elizabeth Street all of a sudden.

6:29am. Tradie standing at the open door to his parked Ute, halfway to William Street. He’s in small, dark blue shorts, and an orange top. He slides his hand down the back of his shorts to scratch his arse, as the tram passes by, probably showing the world more of his arse than he really intended. Nice arse though. Thata boy.

Two chicks and a gay guy bang the side of the tram and whoop at the sight of his bare cheeks.

6:30am. We’re at William Street.

An athletic type gets off ahead of us, track suit material pale grey shorts, fleecy hoodie, he wafts the smell of Dencorub behind him.

6:33am. I’m in the lift.

I make coffee. I grab the old bananas from last week for a banana cake.

7:11am. Big Ange comes in.

I start listening to Hackney Diamonds.

I go have a big shit, before getting a second coffee.

I see IT muscles Attaboy in the kitchen, still with his stupid hipster beard. I want to tell him he has missed that look by nearly 10 years. I want to tell him to shave it off. I nearly have a couple of times, but of course you can’t

7:46am. The old, fat finance chick is in next. She seems nice, she always says good morning. She’s 10 years younger than me, but looks 10 years older. She also lives in the outer suburbs.

7:50am. The Big Poo is in, surprisingly down beat for him, he’s usually go go go even in the morning.

8:02am. My cute, old school mate, David Baum, service boy lookalike, who I have an arse licking date with in my dreams someday, arrives. Panties around his knees, down on all fours.

“Morning,” I say. That image is in my head.

He smiles. “Good morning.”

8:15am. Jason Jones is in.

8:53am. Tall, blokey, Miss Cliché, who sits outside my office, is in. I can’t decide if she is a lesbian, a bogan, or a bogan lesbian?

8:55am. The Midget and Nam arrive together? That’s an odd pairing. What do you reckon? Nam is fucking The Midget? Nyr. Doesn’t bare thinking about.

9:15am. Boris is in.

9:20am. Some plain blonde chick comes and yaps on to the blokey bogan lesbian chick.

Blokey bogan lesbian chick chats to David, as soon as she is done yapping on to the plain blonde chick.

10am. the get-Christian-into-the-office meeting starts. Me, Boris, and The Midget.

10:15am. Meeting over. Now the bogan lesbian is yapping on to some delivery guy. Is there anyone this bitch won’t yabber on to?

Greek Easter, Greek Easter, Greek Easter. Jesus does she ever shut up? The next time I head to the kitchen for a coffee I slide my office door shut when I return. Then I get the optics but none of the whitter. Better.

I could throw my weight around and get her moved. Oh, laugh. I don’t have any weight to throw around.

I listen the Black & Blue, the new tracks. Headphones are great. I turn it up. My office door closed, no one disturbs me.

Midday I have my lunch bought from home. Sam packed it for me.

2pm. It’s the finance meeting. Oh god – used ironically – the longer they all yap on I lose the will to live just a little. Jesus some of them love the sound of their own voices.

3pm. I leave the office.

I run across William Street where there is a huge black Ute waiting for the pedestrians. He makes a point of accelerating hard as I approach, clearly deluded about the green and red pedestrian man. Ignorant arsewipe. It’s frightening how many drivers think the pedestrian crossing men have anything to do with them.

3:04pm. I’m running for a tram which I miss, and as I miss it, I realise it was a 48. I can’t catch a 48. Grrr!

I catch the 11 all the way to Brunswick Street & Gertrude Street cnr. Free public transport for April. This would be my stop if they made public transport free. I wonder if making public transport free would be the cheapest climate change initiative a govt could do?

3.30pm. I’m home.

Otto is over excited to see me. Brun tries to be excited around bouncing Otto.

4:14pm. We take the Bulldogs for a walk. It looks like it’s about to rain, black clouds overhead.

We do a big circle of the suburb ending back on Smith Street.

5:01pm. Brun, Otto and I are waiting outside while Sam shops in Coles for something for dinner.

5:05 pm. A Malamute comes past and of course boof head carries on. The Malamute seems to want to make an issue of it too, but his owner pulls him away.

Sam reappears at 5:08pm.

5:17pm. We home

We ate chicken and fishcakes and greens and rice for dinner.

We watched 4Corners on how bad social media is for society. Oh, no kidding. It was why I stopped going on Facebook, more often that not it was just abuse it was offering, and I decided that I just didn’t need it.

Oh, you know, sometimes it is fun to troll the stupid people, but it wears thin pretty quickly.

We watched Media Watch. They do a really long expose on Aussie Gold Hunters not really sure why. It seemed out of character for Media Watch

10.15pm. Sam and Brun went to bed.

I stayed up trying to write a blog post, but nothing is coming.

11.45pm. Otto and I went to bed.

Afternoon Nap

Any day, where you get to sleep for a couple of hours on the couch in the afternoon, is a good day. Good day.

Ha ha, what am I like?

It's just nice lying here.

We went out for lunch, so my stomach was full. Nice.

I'm just a lazy cow at heart. True.

Blur Saturday

It's got cold these last few days, summer has gone. Back to jeans, which always feels strange after a summer of shorts. It rained for most of the day, that slow, set in drizzle type of rain. We got out in a window period when the rain stopped. We bought Pad Thai.

It was a blur kind of day. You know, not every day can be a great day.

We did go to the Italian cake shop and get jam shortbreads though, so in that sense, it was a very good day.

I stayed up to hear the new Rolling Stones track released today, but that was unsuccessful.

But, you know, it was that kind of day, I guess.

Do you ever wonder what’s going to happen in the end? You know, what’s going to happen to you at the end of your life? What kind of disease, problem, you are going to get? What words the doctor is going to use to tell you, you know, the jig, that is your life, is up? What words are you going to hear?

Oh, I don’t know, maybe it is just that kind of day?

Getting frustrated with not finding The Rolling Stones new song, my mind starts to wander as I sit up late, getting nowhere.

It’s escape. You know, the pressure valve letting off steam. 

I’m now picturing the top of my head as a funnel…

Maybe, I should just go to bed?

You Know, We Could Have A Clean Energy City

I think we have found a way to fight climate change from the bloated orange compulsive liar shooting himself in the foot recently. As with making cigarettes more expensive led to a decrease in smoking, apparently, the increased cost of fuel has seen a drop in the traffic on Melbourne & Sydney roads. Perhaps, that is good for the planet.

What do you think?

Brutal? Maybe so.

If what the scientists say is coming, comes, it is going to be far more brutal. And quite possibly sooner than later.

A few years ago, the scientists said if we simply planted trees on all the available public land on the planet, the scientists even told us where the land was on which we could do that, we could delay the effects of climate change by a decade, or so, but we didn't do that.

Conservative forces are arguing against a change to renewable energy, electric cars and the like. The conservative forces are even arguing against Melbourne building the suburban rail line when we need clean energy, non-petrol cars and public transport. I find this just plain odd. (I'm guessing the fossil fuel industry financing of conservatives is strong)

So, maybe we should give making fossil fuels more expensive a go to encourage people not to use them, as recent events seem to indicate that works.

If more people are encouraged to use public transport, we will get better public transport, it follows logically, supply & demand, and we will all win if that happens.

Windy Sunny Thursday

8.15am. I just took Otto out for his morning wee, to discover it is a glorious morning, really lovely. Brun and Otto are always the last out of bed. Maybe, we are still in for some good weather before winter descends.

Pretty soon after that the wind really started to blow, even if the sun was still shining. I wondered if that was an allegory of the Australian economy, at present? That kind of made me laugh, economic jokes at this time of the morning. Sheesh.

I thought about what a knob Conservative leader Angus Tayolor is. Even his good looks are fading as fast as his credibility. I thought about Ultra (irrelevant) Conservative leader Matt Canavan’s 1950’s throw back, hardly even concealed these days fossil fuel loving, economic plan, which would, essentially, have us all paying more for everything. 

I wondered why people were voting for conservative parties – the orange bag of shit in the US, the lizard in the UK, a handful of South American countries, the whining, got-no-credible-answers, ranga from up north – I can’t work it out. Parties that really have no answers, just grievances. It is just baffling. I shook my head

The anti-intellectual messaging by the conservative parties has clearly been effective. 

It is a good thing the Labor Party won so many seats in the least election against our very own happy-clapper, evangelical PM, that it is probably almost impossible for them to lose the next election.

I exhaled and thought about that last piece of information and felt comforted by it. 

I puffed my pillow, and pull the blanket up over me, on the couch I am sharing with Otto and I listen to the Beatles, Magical Mystery Tour. I was never a fan, but I am coming around slowly.

I watch YouTube.

The sun is continuing to shine through the wind.

I might head down the shops, I haven’t done that for weeks.

Nyr? Whatever.

 

An HR Meeting To Finish Off The Week

A late meeting with HR, called by The Midget, over a stuff up over a lawyer working OS, after which my weekend started.

Boris and I wondered what it had to do with us – we were familiar with the issue at hand, as we had been asked to do a few calculations by the poor overworked HR administrator, Cinnamon Wang – but we attended none the less.

The Giant PonyTail attended the meeting – she must be attempting a whitewash of her corporate image – and she consistently tried to lay blame on everyone but HR, but I wasn't having it, no I wasn't. I have to give it to her, she was relentless in a subtle way. A one-eyed, Teflon coated, not-my-fault, never-my-fault, Dalek moving through the corporate world seeking to Destroy! Destroy! Destroy! anyone who goes against that mantra. I kept it up to her, though, subtly bringing it back to the problem was HRs.

Boris opened her gob and gave them an out, oh something about our recent change to cloud-based applications had caused numerous issues, and The Giant PonyTail latched onto that quick as a flash, so much so it looked kind of desperate. Oh Boris, I thought. To paraphrase Amanda Priestly, that was the biggest disappointment of the meeting. Suddenly, I thought, is Boris a fixer, does she have a touch of The Hero Complex about her? It would explain a lot.

Then The Giant PonyTail tried to wrap the meeting up in her favour, with her pinched face, and her hair pulled back so severely I wouldn't have been surprised at the appearance of a beard, but I was ready when she finished, and I clearly re-stated the issue as one of HR's making. She exhaled loudly, but said nothing more.

Then my weekend started and I forgot all about it. I took the dogs for a walk and sucked in fresh air and cleared my mind.

My week was over and my weekend was about to begin, and as Taylor Swift would say, I shook it off.