Good morning

His favourite role play was that of Sammy the sex doll

Easy Friday

Oh, nice and cool today. I drove to Bundoora without a thought. Out to zone 2, without a worry and I made it back too. There are lots of trees out there and lots of shopping centres and car parks and wide roads with median strips down the centre. Lovely.

An easy ride out, an easy ride back, midday to 1pm, and my days chores are complete.
Lovely.

I'm sure one day I will probably regret my work ethic, but right now I love it. Maybe I wont regret it too. I've pretty much got everything I need. I few replacements each year and I'll be sliding towards pipe and slippers. Even if a friend of mine did point out that I am, actually, only half way through it and that I, probably, have to do the same number of years over again. I could probably do with a new car, as mine is now over ten years old, but there is nothing wrong with it. I could buy a new one if I wanted too, I've got that much in the bank, but I don't want to.

I could be dead tomorrow, especially if I don't give up the ciggies.

Besides, who wants to get really old anyway? I see my mum at a ripe old age, her brain and her bowels gone. Who wants that?

I say less work and more play, that's what I say. Stop working so hard people, I'm pretty certain you don't need all that stuff.

Anthony Called Today

Anthony called today just to check up on me and Buddy, to make sure we were cool and staying out of the heat.

"Oh yes, nice and cool here."

"Goodo."

"I'm not working today."

"Good for you! You don't want to go in for that nonsense."

"No luv, I don't."

"It is ridiculous this outdate work thingy, we're just not made for that sort of carry on."

"I reckon I have just about done enough in my life anyway."

"Me too. Absolutely!" Anthony hasn't worked for years. "I just don't see the point to it."

"No, me either. Always chasing after the idiots who are too stupid to get anything right. Fixing their mistakes. Who needs it?"

"Oh yes, I hate that. Morons, nearly everyone of them."

"Apparently, they have three people doing my job now back at the black law firm."

"I just don't know how this country survives with the number of idiots running the ship?"

"I hope they go down..."

"Well, apparently the permafrost is melting and it will be the end of all of us..."

"Not before time."

"Hear, hear!"

He'd just seen a petshop van with my dog emblazoned across the side, as he'd made his daily trip to the shops. (Well, I guess, you have to fill your day in somehow) He'd come around the corner and there was baby bulldog staring back at him.

"So, I thought I'd better call."

"It was a sign," I offered sarcastically. Thinking that is exactly what David would have said.

Anthony knew exactly what I meant. "Oh yes, some such nonsense, I am sure," said Anthony. He laughed his easy laugh. "And if you can make a living out of it, reassuring the gullible that their lives mean something, all the better."

"Money for jam..."

"Happy schizophrenia, luv. Spiritual guru by day, filthy, drug taking leather bottom by night, letting god knows who shove god knows what up her arsehole, good luck to her. I just wish I had the energy." He laughed again.

Anthony always cheers me up. I don't know, it is something about ex-boyfriends, they don't have to bother with the small explanatory sentences, we just know what each other means, quite simply. Chat chat, laugh laugh, the world is fucked, aren't we lucky we are in the position we are. Let's watch from our superior position as they all slide into the abyss.

I baked some sweet pastries and brewed some coffee. And I wonder why I am getting fat. Ha ha! They were good too. Yum, I thought, as I reclined back on the couch and nibbled on the edge of a pastry and sipped my coffee. 

 

I Hadn't Heard From David

I hadn't heard from David for some time. I wasn't exactly sure how long, but it seemed like a while. Sam mentioned it last night as we were driving back from the dog park. Just when I seemed to be thinking about him, David called this morning.

"Well, hello," I said. "What have you been up to, matey? Long time no hear?"

"I have been enjoying the delights of a new arsehole."

"Pardon?" I said. I expected him to say a lot of things, but not that.

David laughed uproariously. "Yes, I have met someone who has been keeping me very happily distracted, thank you very much. And it is very nice too."

Apparently, he went to the “Trough” party last week, which is where he met the new guy. So, apparently, you can meet someone nice at a filthy poofter party.

"So, what star sign is he?" It is the first question David always asks, so I couldn't help myself.

"Oh, don't ask," he said.

"A Picean?" I know that is David's least favourite sign. They just swim away David has said in the past. You think you have them and then they just slip through your fingers.

"No... a Torean."

"Oh no." I told him about my ex-girlfriend, Leah, who is also a Torean who has turned really judgemental these last few years and to whom I have now stopped talking, just because she has become too much)

"Yes, well, let's not go there," David said.

"It will end in tears," I said.

"You are such a bitch," he replied.

I laughed uproariously.

Then I went and ate lunch in Smith Street. I sat out on the footpath and ate under an umbrella, it was quite lovely. I'd just like to thank the hot guy in the blue shorts who wandered past several times. Baggy blue, that fit nicely around his slim waste and which followed the curves of his muscular lags. Very nice mate. You've got to love summer.

The Council and Buddy

My neighbour - I'm not sure if I want to use neurotic, or toxic - over the back has complained to the council about Buddy barking. 

So, I met with the nice man from the council. He said he'd come in the morning. He arrived at 9am. My mate Anthony and I laughed about it later, 
"Who arrives at 9am," said Anthony. "It is inhuman, for god's sake."

Buddy ran to the door before I could stop him. I mean, not that I really wanted to stop him exactly, but the doorbell rang and he was gone and I was left running after him. He can be a bit of an excitable puppy with new people at the door and I wanted him to be on his best behaviour, of course.

He was at the door wiggling with his little tail wagging, when I got there. I opened the door, thinking hear we go, and Buddy stepped out on to the front veranda and greeted the nice man from the council, with his cutest bulldog face.

"Hello, you're beautiful," the man said. He looked at me and said, "He didn't bark then."

"No," I said. "He doesn't bark alot."

I gave the council guy my story. He was just following procedure, as they have to. We sat in the lounge and the Buddy won the council man over with his adorable bulldoggy ways.

He showed me her log. I showed him my log. My log contradicted her log on several days. She'd put down that Buddy had barked for minutes on some days when I knew he'd barked 6, maybe 8 times. He was asleep on my bed in my room on one occasion that miss neurotic said he barked. I disputed the five minute sessions she claimed he barked for.

"I don't think bulldogs can breath well enough to bark for 5 minutes straight."

We both laughed.

"Essentially, we are only interested in dogs that bark incessantly, or continuously. We are not interested in dogs just being dogs, we understand that dogs do bark. Her log itself shows us that he didn't bark for 4 days at all. We are not interested in pursuing this case. We sometimes have to speak to people about the reality of living in the inner suburbs and we think this may be one of those cases."

Dream boat Anthony Nelson

I Can't Breath

LouLou came over for a sleep over, arriving some time around 7pm. She bought the pot and we rolled joints furiously, as we seem to do when LouLou is around.

Sam cooked rice noodles. We were watching the TV and I’m not really sure exactly what happened, I laughed and coughed at the same time with a mouthful of food. A noodle when down the wrong way and I gagged on it. It seemed to stick in my throat. I choked, I coughed and the noodle blocked my air passages completely and for a split second I couldn’t breath, I could get any air at all. Nothing.

I’m sure that the picture of the lounge room that was in my field of vision began to fade. I seem to remember it going an unusual shade of green, just slightly, as if a filter had been put over it.

“I can’t breath,” I whispered.

I still couldn’t get breath, a second later, nothing, breathing in and there was just nothing.

I think it dislodged enough for me to get breath as I stood up. LouLou was good and told me to breath through my nose and I could get breath and the panic subsided, despite it still feeling like the food was lodged in my throat.

It seemed to take quite a while for the food to clear, even though I could breath okay. There was a small worry that the food might shift again and block my air passage again. I wondered if I should go to hospital? I coughed and spluttered and tried to make myself vomit up the food, something I have never been able to do, not even with my fingers down my throat.

I guess it was frightening, I'm not sure now, it all happened so quickly.

Sam, of course, blamed it on the mega amount of pot that we had smoked. He said next time that we shouldn’t smoke the huge amount of pot that we had smoked. Mari, as he puts it, is always to blame according to him.

What a Mess!

I had to work, euw! Three days, Friday, Monday, Tuesday. Well, I guess I didn't have to work, the truth is I chose to. And all the way there - a fifteen minute car ride - I said to myself, Why? Why? Why?

I was sent out to another not for profit organisation. What a mess! What is it with not for profit organisations? What a mother fucking mess! I love it (that is sarcasm) when they just quickly discuss what it is they want me to do, when in that brief discussion, followed by a sincere smile, the true magnitude of what it is they want me to do becomes clear. I usually clear my throat - read check the exits for an escape route - and say, Can we just run through that again?

Ahh! You want me to do that in 3 days? And there was some sort of problem with the computers and they weren't operational until lunchtime. Ahh! So, Monday and Tuesday should be fun. Not!

And all the time I just think I am just becoming a winy pants, as Sam would say.

Good thing my buddy LouLou came for a sleepover and we smoked pot until the wee small hours just to forget what mess is waiting for me on Monday.

That Great Aussie Tradition of Taking a Sickie

Sam took a sickie today, (look of surprise) he is lying on the couch behind me on his iPad, with the baby bulldog resting his fat face on Sam's arm. 

Oh yes, it is my influence, bad me. He doesn't want to work any more. He wants to retire, like he says I have. Even if I'm going to work tomorrow, Jack finally caught up with me. I'm working 3 days, how will I cope? I ignored his calls for 2 days, but he called yesterday when I was feeling more like talking.

Sam now says he hates the salt mines, and that work is pointless and they are all cunts! Oh, cringe, who does that sound like?
But, you know, it must be hard going to work when your boyfriend sits at home on his fat arse, his most taxing responsibility taking the dog to the doggy park, I understand that.

Anyway, enough of that, the sun is shining, the sky is blue. Apparently, we are heading to the phone shop to buy me a new phone. I see it as tightening the ties that bind me to 3. I really wouldn't be dashing to the phone shop to get a new phone that I really don't need just because my contract is up, but the camera on my phone is shit, really shit, and I do like taking photos... so a new phone it is.

Yay!

The Beautiful, Talented People

I just love this

Buddy asleep under the coffee table

All better

He's a much happier bulldog today, just in case you were wondering. He bounced in the door this morning all customary wriggles and snuffling, giddy with excitement, bending his face around to his arse, like a banana, and then back again. 

He's straight up onto the couch. He likes his comforts.
"Get off!"
Then he is back up onto the couch, as I am telling him off for the first time.
"No, get off."
But, he looks me in the eye and he heads straight back up onto the couch again, as I am telling him off for the second time.
"No."
Then it is a paw up on the couch, as we eyeball each other.

So, pretty much, back to normal.

We're off to the dog park, the sun is shining, the sky is blue.

Sick Puppy

I've got a very low energy bulldog today. He's looking very droopy about the mouth... ha, ha. He's different, changed, something seems wrong with him. 

We still head down the dog park and he does spark up and run around, but not for long, not like usual.

If I was paranoid, I'd think someone might have given him something, some woman who thinks he barks too much, for instance.

I got movies and watched them all afternoon. Oh yeah, I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life, I still haven't figured that out, so I figured a little celluloid relief couldn't go a stray.

I watched Animal Kingdom about the underworld. It's the movie that got Jackie Weaver noticed in Hollywood And Ice Men about a group of hot straight mates who go away for the weekend, which was very homoerotic.

At 18.30, when I am heading upstairs for something, I could see something was on the front doorstep. There was a bag and a note.

"Thank you for keeping the dog inside, I really appreciate it. I baked you something as a thank you."

I immediately thought, you poisoned my dog and now you are taunting me.

Buddy lay quietly all night, very quiet. He was very sleepy, he hardly moved. And at one stage he stood up and vomited.

The thing is that I haven't kept him inside at night not at all, not for one night. I tried to tell her that bulldogs are low bark dogs, however... Oh well, it is good, I have her notes for if it was ever escalated to some authority.

Stressing. Perhaps "They" Were Right? Perhaps I Am No Good With Conflict

Oh I'm stressed out about the neighbour, not that I have heard from her in the last few days.

I've put the dog outside and sat in the lounge room for hours watching TV and not a sound from him.

I've typed on my laptop until the wee small hours and nothing, not even a yip.

I've come down in the middle of the night, 3am, on several occasions, and sat in the dark for a few hours determined to hear him bark, if he barks, and not a sound.

All I've heard him do is a very characteristic bulldog snore from his kennel.

I spoke to my neighbour directly next door and while I didn't ask about his barking specifically, she asked about him in such glowing terms she clearly isn't a neighbour who is kept awake by a dog barking.

I spoke to Jackson, my other neighbour and he replied, "I didn't even realise you had got a dog, mate."

I'm nervous when I put him outside at night. When I am in bed I think every noise is a dog barking.

Whiny Pants

The neurotic chic next door and over the back is apparently hysterical and completely strung out. Her housemate came to speak to me. According to her housemate, she is highly strung and overwrought, at the best of times, but with the bulldog barking for 30 seconds in the night, she is about to lose her shit. Apparently, she is in tears and can't work. The inference is that the housemate can't live with her in this state, so she has come to plead the neurotic's case.

"Can't he sleep in side?"
"No, he can't sleep inside," I said. "He has his kennel and a part of his job, be it a small part, is to guard the house."

And tonight, I get a note that he barked at 4am and please can't I keep him inside over the weekend, as there will be lots of street noise which he will probably bark at.

Neither of them are listening. No he can't sleep inside, I have told both of them that... just because he might bark, literally, once, by their own admission, woof woof, in the night.

It is funny how it is only behaviour modification for our house which is suggested. According to both of them, Miss Neurotic has trouble sleeping at the best of times and yet, it would seem, never has she considered behaviour modification on her part.

If she is so highly strung and so easily strung out by any noise in the night, why doesn't she consider ear plugs (or therapy, or pills) (or... a... long dive off a short cliff, no, I don't mean that). Several of my housemates have used earplugs in the past. It is called inner city living. She works from home and presumably, she doesn't have to get up at a specific time to go to work. And I believe the problem she has is her problem of an inability to sleep, which is the main problem, sure Buddy isn't helping, but I don't really think he is the main problem.

I think maybe I might buy some earplugs and put them in her letterbox.

I have spoken to my other neighbours today, without specifically mentioning if the dog barks or not, and they have all asked after him, telling me how lovely they think he is.

Floating

I like walking down my quiet street and closing my eyes as I head along the footpath. It gives me a sense of space and weightlessness... defying gravity, kind of thing. There is a certain recklessness to it, safe recklessness, pussy recklessness, sure and a certain trust in the unknown, in my remaining senses, all at the same time. I can almost feel them pulse the moment my eyelids slide shut. It feels cool, kind of like floating, or drifting in time and space. There is that sense of gliding, skimming through the air.

Floating. Close your eyes and jump. Take the leap. Let go.

Most People Just Hope It Stops The Child Abuse

George Pell welcomes the enquiry into child abuse in the Catholic Church, as he hopes this will stop the media smear campaign of his church.

That must be one of the greatest pieces of spin I have ever read.


I thought the Catholic Church was here to minister to the faithful, and to tend to the poor and to guide the disadvantaged and to give… oh, ah, no, apparently, I was wrong.

I Don't Know... If There Really Is An Answer To This

The doorbell rang early this morning, first thing. There was a blond chick standing there looking at me when the door swung open. She looked a bit nervous, or needy, or something. She was the neighbour from over the back come to complain about Buddy barking at night.

“I have trouble sleeping.” She looked nervous... or was that uptight? I'm not sure. "He barks and wakes me up and I can't go back to sleep."

"Oh, really?" Oh, that is terrible, I thought. I'd hate to be "that" neighbour. “So how much does he bark?” I asked. I was grimacing on the inside waiting for the answer.

“Oh once or twice.”

Oh, that's not to bad. "Per night?"

"Yes."

“And how long does he bark for?” Grimace. Please don't say hours.

“Maybe, up to a minute.”

What? "Up to a minute?" It was just sinking in.

"Yes."

“So you are saying that he barks for 1 to 2 minutes, per night?”

“Yes.”

Oh come on? “So you are not saying that he barks all night.”

“No, but it is enough to wake me up.”

She had lost me, I knew it, she knew it. “Well, he is a dog, he will bark. I don’t think there is much I can do about him barking once, or twice a night.”

"So that is it then, is it?"

I wanted to say yes, but I don't want her to be upset by my dog, even if I don't think she is being particularly reasonable.

That is what dogs do, they bark. “I’ll see what I can do?” It was a little disingenuous because I didn’t really intend to do anything.

"I was hoping he could sleep inside," she said.

I smiled. And closed the door.

Having thought about it, however, I actually want him to bark that much. We have lane ways all around us, being the inner suburbs, and lately there has been a dramatic increase in graffiti and, apparently, robberies so I want him to deter the graffiti artists and the thieves that may be in the lane way.

And just following her logic, the one time that my dog barks it is too many times for her. That is what she is, essentially, saying. There is no answer to this really. I’m sorry that the one time he barks it wakes her up, but you can’t really complain about a dog that barks once a day, surely, even if it is at night.

Three Days In

Then it was getting light outside and I looked at the clock and, I think, it was 5.50am. Where on earth had the previous 2 days disappeared?

It was our long weekend binge. Sam is an enthusiast. Keen, is the word. Ha, ha, that is an understatement, I think I created a monster.

I hadn’t eaten anything since Friday. Oh, Up & Go and juice and water. It went so quick, where did the time go? How much porn had we watched? How much dirty talk had there been?

I came down stairs to get orange juice, this morning. I placed the glass on the bench. I got the container out of the fridge. I filled the glass. I put the container back in the fridge. I closed the fridge and turned back to the bench.

I looked at the glass and there was a glass full of milk. I stared at it. "That's not right." I was confused.

What did I want? All I knew was that I didn’t want that? Milk? Curdle my stomach? Euw!

I was sure the fluid was orange as I poured it. Oh well.

Inspiration

• æ: Post a picture of yourself. 
• ✌: Share a childhood memory. 
• ♡: Make a confession. 
• ❁: Share one of your insecurities. 
• ✓: Share something about yourself others might think is weird. 
• ☹: Share a turn off. 
• ☀: Share a turn on. 
• ♬: Share a song that takes you to a certain memory in the past. 
• ♧: Share the story of something that makes you smile. 
• ☆: Share one thing you think about before you go to bed at night. 
☮: Share a relationship story.`