Love My buttons. Love My Car

I was up at 5.45am, it was still dark. I slip into routine – muesli, shower, eat the muesli and leave. 

I love my car’s exhaust sound as my car fires into life in the cool, quiet hours of the early morning. 

There is something strangely tantalising driving to work in the dark. The bright headlights, the slashes of red tail lights, the street lights glowing down in pools. People coming and going, so many people heading somewhere.

I got to work at 6.55am. My last day at the (unhappy) toy company, in Richmond. I was heading into the office when I stopped and thought about the possibility of an alarm system. The previous weeks I had got to the office just after 7am and while I had to turn the office lights on everything else went smoothly. Wouldn’t it be funny if 7am was the cut off for the alarm. I stood momentarily and gazed at the door. I decided to head back out into the dark and the cold to have a ciggie while the clock ticked over to 7am and beyond.

I was back at the door at 7.03am, so I proceeded inside.

The lights came on with their customary clunk, certhunk, flash, flash, flash and I had light. I guess I don’t need to say that there was nobody else there.

I switched on my computer and got myself a coffee and got to work.

There were so few emails to read, just a couple. Things seemed to be different to how I left them. It became apparent to me that Vonda had been in, my predecessor. Good old Vonda. I was very pleased about that.

Jack and Caroline both called just after 10am, so I switched my phone off. Jack wants to talk me into some kind of handover and what Caroline wanted I have no idea. I’d tell them I had lost my phone if they questioned it. Oh, joking. I’ll throw it in the Yarra just to cover back. I’m kidding, I’m not doing that. 

The first person to confront me was Marnie Wang, the annoying accounts lady. Apparently, the NZ end of month stuff I gave her last week didn’t balance. It was the GL that was the problem. Oh bugger, what the hell. So, I said okay to her, in a perfect piece of bluff, and I got to work trying to work out what was wrong with it. I got up and closed the door. I called my mate back in my home office. I don’t bluff him, of course, I just say it how it is, no matter how crap it makes me look, as I learn more that way, and I had it sorted out. 

Marnie said to me, “Don’t leave until I tell you all the figure balance.” Last week, I left and the NZ figures were out.

I rediscovered my second favourite button to the mute button, the lift doors closed button, as I headed out to lunch, working again in a multi level building, on the third floor.

They both block out the annoying world in a lovely way. The lift doors closed button is slightly more amusing than the mute button. You can watch people run for the lift, as your finger is closing the doors on them. It is a joy.

Dana came in after lunch, “Your last day,” she said. “Jack has been trying to call you to organise a handover on Friday.” Or at least, that is what I thought she said, I didn’t quite hear her clearly.

(did she just call Jack her? I quickly imagined Jack… oh, no, shake of the head)

Then Marnie Wang was on me again for the Australian end of month figures. I gave them to her, but again the GL wasn’t balancing. Crap! And the time was sailing past 3pm when my 7.5 hours were up. Crap again. 

I rejigged it, but still no. 

Vonda had told me that I could run the GL after each week, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Doing it that way seems to add the batches you have already run to the new batches. So, I reversed out the batches and re-did the GL. It balanced on the screen, so I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I quickly pulled it all together and emailed it to Marnie.

I got Nina Low to sign off on my times.

I had a catch up with Dana. I told her all the things that needed to be done. She seemed happy. She thanked me for all my hard work.

I had already switched off my computer. So, as soon as I left Dana, I walked around the other way to Marnie Wang to the lift and left… without checking with Marnie. Oh, it balanced on the screen, I was sure – actually, that is a lie – it balanced. Besides, I’d been there for nine hours and I just wanted to go. (I hated that place)

I ran to my car. No, I did, literally. I heard the Mission Impossible music in my head. I thought Marnie was the type who’d follow me to the car, if she sniffed my escape on the wind. To be fair to her, if it didn’t balance, there would be nothing she could do for a week. Oh well. Shrug.

My gorgeous car, my stead to take me away from all things foul, and I roared off through the back streets of Richmond. Free! Getting away unscathed.

Well, maybe not unscathed, but released from stress.

Oh, I know, I should make it a learning experience. I shouldn’t run from it, as I will learn nothing that way. I should run towards it, head on, as they say and grow.

Where did I go wrong with that?

despite the shitty weather all day, the sky still turned pink at dusk

We got up around 9am.

It was cold, wet and rainy.

Sam was keen to try the new solar pump in the pond, but he was even less keen to get his hair wet in the rain.

We ate pancakes for breakfast.

LouLou

Chandler Hwy? Did you say you ended up on Chandler Hwy? My mind boggled with that one. When you are coming up Hoddle Street/Punt Road from your mum's place, you turn left at Langridge Street, the next turn/set of lights after Victoria Street – Christian

I don’t know if the above is subtle enough, as at the time I couldn’t help but think idiot! As I then had to drive Mark and Luke to the airport, which I don’t mind, except if there is another car doing exactly the same trip at exactly the same time. Grrr!

It rained for most of the day.

Well helloooooo....havn,t seen you on fragers... – Mark

Are you both well? – Mark

I get on Facebook most days, but generally I don't stay on for very long, it just isn't that interesting – Christian 

We are both well, we just ate pancakes for breakfast – Christian 

How are you? – Christian

We,re well, still getting over a very big night on friday....hmmmmm  that crystal is baaaad.... – Mark

Its goooood ,but baaaad... – Mark

I thought you didn't do it – Christian

Where was the big night? – Christian

Here – Mark

Oh, I see – Christian

Yeah....it,s fine , on the odd occasion.. – Mark

Luke really enjoyed it... – Mark

was it nice overlooking the forey? – Christian

Oh jes....sun came up and the whole property was white...beaudiful... – Mark

We got excited in the afternoon when the sun came out, picking up the solar panel of the pump holding it up to the sunlight. And a couple of times it burst into life, admittedly to only for a few moments.

Then the rain poured down.

We ate camembert cheese and biscuits in front of the TV for dinner.

Buddy lay in front of the fire all day.

Following major coastal flooding earlier in the week, Melbourne experienced its wettest June day on record at certain regional weather stations. This capped off a tumultuous weather cycle. 

Saturday Morning

We ate lunch in Glenferrie Road. It is a very Saturday morning thing to do. Go further afield, though, just not eating in our own neighbourhood all the time. (If I said spice of life, would you vomit? You know, a cliché vomit, not a nausea vomit) Lovely Hawthorn. My dad used to teach there at Swinburne Uni. I practically went to school there, Smithton is just up the road a bit. I used to walk down this way to my father’s off, some days. So, it is very familiar to me. I consider it is the area in which I grew up. So going there is nice for me, and interesting to me to. I like it.

Glenferrie Road shops didn’t look all that different, I guess that is a good thing, if it is anything, the property developers haven’t fucked it up yet. Swinburne Uni looked different, though, when we both had a look in passing. Sam and I both went to Swinburne uni.

After we’d eaten, we bought a solar pond pump at Bunnings in Hawthorn. It is an industrial kind of looking Bunnings squeezed into an industrial suburban shopping street frontage, it is more vertical than your standard Bunnings centre.

We saw Dante as we drove into Bunnings and he gave us his car spot. Fancy that. Dante? That bitter old bitch. Still, nice of her, I guess.

We came home and setup the solar panel on the roof. However, ultimately, it would prove not to be powerful enough. Not enough sun at our place, either, too many trees. Still, it was a nice idea, but pretty quickly it became landfill. So, making an attempt to save the planet, we inadvertently added to the waste. Some days, that is what happens, I guess. 

Oh, you were on line and now you're gone.......So sorry about last Sunday nights stuff up and that you had to go out to the airport my lovely. I now know to come down Victoria St when coming from Mum's to your place......Hope you and Sam have been cuddling up with Buddy in this miserable weather – LouLou 

We ate stir fried veggies for dinner. 

• Discovery of a Body at the Royal Botanic Gardens: On the morning of June 28, a major investigation was launched after joggers discovered a woman's body lying on the grass next to St Kilda Road near the police memorial.

• AFL Thriller at Docklands Stadium: In sports, the Western Bulldogs defeated the Melbourne Demons by six points (Marcus Bontempelli kicking a late winner) in an AFL match played at Docklands Stadium.

• Macedon Fatal Police Pursuit: North-west of Melbourne, a fatal car crash occurred following a police pursuit that began early that morning after suspects were caught attempting to rob a Myki transit card machine.

• Aftermath of Severe Winter Storms: Melbourne was also recovering from a week of extreme winter weather, including a major "weather bomb" earlier in the week that caused the Yarra River to breach its banks, flooded Southbank, and downed powerlines across Victoria

Day Off

Jack tried to get me to do the Impossible Job for another week. Really? A week's worth of work squeezed into one day, just because some HR person is trying to make a name for herself. Oh no my friend, that is a whole world of pain with very little in it for me, other than an impossible work load that is most likely only going to destroy my good name... if I, indeed, have one. Okay, what good name I do have? I'm sure the HR person will be proved wrong in the end, but I am not going to end up as collateral damage in the process.

So, I lied to him. I told him I had a big family thing on over the weekend and couldn't work next Monday, which is not entirely untrue. Jack's a good Greek boy, I thought he'd understand. I could have just said I was unable to work. I um'd and ah'd about which path to take, the simple 'no', or the longer reason. I went with the longer reason. He agreed with me and essentially wished me well.

I stayed in bed till 11.11am, Buddy and I. Lovely and warm.

So, a day off? What to do?

Have a haircut, pay money off my CityLink, bought toothpaste and a cheap dvd at the dvd shop sale. Four people asked me for a cigarette, do I look like a walking billboard? Two people asked me for money, do I look like a bank? The sun was shining, the sky blueish, Smith Street vibrant. Then I headed home, washed my hair after the haircut, moisturised, hung the washing and took my curry lunch back to bed with my bulldog and watched the movie.

A Josh Lawson movie, Questions for Ben. Even if it is bad, Josh sure is pretty. Even saw in hin his undies, momentarily. I think we should see more of Josh Lawson in his undies.

Buddy snored all the way through it. Philistine.

It's A Bit Like Being In A Football Team

The boys at the new job are a cute bunch. Strapping. Handsome. Friendly. There is a whole gaggle of them.

A lot of them are big boys, the types who’d have played football at school. I can picture a few of them in their footy shorts. I wish I could picture all of them in the change room. There are some big bulges in their jeans and some of them have really big arses. Big, chunky arses and thick legs. One of them walks like my Rottweiler used to walk, moving from the hips and bum. I can't help but notice.

Tom used to always say that straight boys have fat bums. Of course, he didn’t mean all straight boys have fat arses, but those boys who do have fat bums are most likely to be straight. Maybe, it is the fathering gene? You know, they have to be well equipped to shove that sperm all the way up in there.

😬 The head of marketing has a great big chunky arse. I can't help but notice whenever he walks past. I can't help but imagine how his jocks are straining, as they are pulled tight across those big legs and over those big buns. I get a mental picture every time he walks past of patterned, white coloured jocks with stripes high lighting his contours.

I can picture him standing there naked, with his hands cupped over his cock and balls, his big white flanks outside the triangle of his arms; black hair on his stomach following a trail up to his chest. There would be that big shapely arse, the crack between each cheek like an axe cut, with small black hairs lining the split all the way down to the backs of his big solid thighs.

Shake of the head. “Hi.”


“Hi” he’d say, as he headed back to his office.

The New Happy Job

Okay, so the new assignment started before July 01st. Shh, don’t tell anyone. It is all a part of the deal Jack made with (the name of the company). The days I’m not at the Impossible Job, (the unhappy toy company. It sounds like a Grimms Fairy Tale, or something) I’m now at the Lovely Job. It's easy getting to Notting Hill, who'd have thought? Straight out the freeway, it doesn't take long, as I am heading against the traffic the whole way. Free as a bird, no stress. Smiling.

I get to see the freeway traffic coming into the city and it makes me think all over again how mental we all are with peak hour traffic and how I never want to be in that bumper to bumper traffic crawl into the city.

It must do people's head's in, maybe unbeknownst to them. It must be adding to everybody's stress, that unremitting grind to get to your place of employment. As much as I love my car, I could imagine that a lot of mental stress would be eliminated if we got rid of cars altogether. It must be soul destroying sitting in that crush of automobile tin day in and day out. Oh, it must be. It must be one of the reasons why people turn to drugs and have affairs? I know I would if I had to endure that trial every day.

It’s just as easy on the way home. And the poor souls are back at it on the other side of the freeway, bumper to bumper.

Oh, who would have thought this time last week I would not be stressing about the Impossible job?

My Day Off

I was up at 6.30am. It was cold and wet and windy and dark.

I rolled a joint and smoked it outside.

Buddy got up and snuffled around the back door after I had come back inside. So, I had to get up and let him in and he came in and immediately climbed into my lap as I sat on the lounge room floor at my large coffee table.

Sam was up at 7am. He first accused me of smoking joints, which was patently true. Then he said make a fire with sticks and newspaper, which work beautifully.

Sam made coffee and toasted crusty white bread spreading it with thick lashings of cream cheese and vegemite.

Sam headed off to work. 

It rained. The roof leaked. Bugger it. In two places. The same old problem, which I thought we’d fixed, but apparently not. 

I listened to Michael Jackson’s Xscape. I like it. I like it better than his first posthumous album, Michael.

I had a pull. Don’t all guys when they are home alone? Oh, cum on, you do so, don’t lie. It is what we all do. And I ate stale corn chips – not at the same time, you understand, could you imagine? It would be like having sand in your bed. Or doing it in the shallows of the surf. And then it was midday. I lay on the couch.

The sun came out brightly at 1.30pm, as Labelle sang Turn it Out. Kind of appropriate, don’t you think? Turning out the sun. 

I snacked on rice crackers, despite there being an open packet of TimTam Chocolate brownies. I’ve never been keen on TimTams, I guess you are surprised by that with the sweet tooth I have? But no, I have never had the TimTam gene. 

I drank water. How many litres are you supposed to drink each day? 2.6 litres, is what they say. 2.6 litres? Okay. I’d better get started. 

Blood orange Agrum took the stale, one hundred joints smoked, mouth away. Now it is just water for the rest of the day. 

Sam called and messaged to tell me to do something. Do something, you say? Do something, I wonder? Something? but, it’s my day off and days off aren’t made for doing something, I think. Actually, days off are very much geared towards doing something, of course, but that doesn’t help my plan for the day, in any fucken way. 

I’ve got Cold Play’s new album to listen to.

Toasted crusty bread and homemade fig jam and butter, I found much more to my liking, for lunch. What’s wrong with that? Toast and jam for lunch? 

2.12pm. I feel like a little piggy. Massively over toasted and over jammed.

I looked at my mobile phone, sometime in the afternoon and the toy company had called blah, blah, blahing on about some figures they feel aren’t correct. 

Oh well, I ignored that. There is nothing wrong with the figures, I can assure you. They are just speaking from a place of not knowing what they are talking about, I would say. 

Fuck them! I can explain it to them when I am next in the office, because, if you want to employee me for one day a week, you get one day a week’s worth of work, that is how the world works. 

I don’t look at my mobile phone quite as often if I am home on a day off. I don’t think of it, if it is still tucked away in my brief case, that is if I don’t pick it up when I first get out of bed. 

I rolled another joint and soon forgot about that, smoking it outside, gazing out at the garden, as rain fell. Don’t you love that feeling of the rain pouring down, while you sit outside looking out at it, covered and protected from it? I know I do, it gives me chills up my spine, more often than not. 

a severe "winter weather bomb" struck Melbourne and Victoria bringing destructive winds, coastal storm surges, and heavy rain

• Extreme Winds: Gusts exceeded 100 km/h at Melbourne, Avalon, and Essendon airports, with peak state winds reaching up to 122–130 km/h.

• Yarra River Flooding: High tides combined with the storm surge caused the Yarra River to breach its banks in central Melbourne, flooding footpaths, structures, and areas around Southbank, including the Ponyfish Island bar.

• Power Outages: Up to 12,000 to 30,000+ customers across metropolitan Melbourne and surrounding regions (such as the Mornington Peninsula and Frankston South) lost power due to fallen trees and clashing power lines.

• Transport Disruptions: Public transport was heavily affected, with bus replacements on lines like the Glen Waverley and Belgrave/Bayswater lines, alongside flight delays.

• Emergency Response: The State Emergency Service (SES) received thousands of calls for help across Victoria, with roughly 1,600 calls centered in Melbourne, mostly for structural and building damage, fallen trees, and minor injuries from flying debris.

The End Is In Sight And A Glorious New Beginning Is Blooming

I was up at 5.45am. It was still dark. This is bullshit, I resisted thinking.

I went outside for a cigarette. Buddy came straight inside, which was unusual for him. It was cold and dark and you normally need a crowbar to get him out of his kennel in such conditions.

I got up and checked the gutters in the dim light. It was a good thing I did, as the Golden Elm, from two houses along, had dumped a sheet of leaves all through the box gutter, as it has a tendency to do this time of year. Next doors Yukka Tree dumps it’s fucking fronds into my gutter too. I must get up on the roof with my bottle of poison and spray it again. I did real damage to it last time I sprayed it, but I see I am going to have to keep spraying it constantly until it is dead. I’m not asking my next door neighbour, she always uses the excuse that she doesn’t have the authority to chop anything down, as she rents. But, I’m sure, K and G, the owners wouldn’t mind. And who cares if they do.

I prepared my muesli in the dim light of the morning kitchen. There is something kind of exhilarating being up so early in the day. It’s the whole rebirth thing, I’m sure. I’m no longer stressing “big time” as I had been about the Impossible South Job now that I am finishing next week, as scheduled.

I put the central heating on. I ate my muesli while the heating warmed up the bathroom. Then I had a shower. I cut a large piece of apple pie – leftovers from Mark and Luke’s party at my place on Saturday night – to eat for lunch, as I didn’t have anything else and I just wanted to get today over with without having to worry about finding lunch. I could eat it cold at my desk to stave off the hunger pains when necessary.

I left at 6.40.

Cars had their headlights on as they drove towards me. The roads were relatively clear as the cars morphed into red tails lights in the distance. The dark of the morning embraced me in my journey. I drove all the way with my headlights on. The street with the free, all day, the car park was more empty than it was last week. I parked and wandered to the office in the dark.

I crossed the soulless business centre in the dark. It always seems like a place where people would kill themselves, or have. What a horrible, miserable place. It reminds me of what we’d get if Tony Abbott is allowed to make the rules or, at least, get rid of the rules around building planning. Our cities would end up as dull and soulless as Tony Abbott himself.

I had to turn the lights on when I got into the office. I sure hoped there wasn’t an alarm system. I was at my desk at 7am.

I sneaked in another cigarette at 7.15.

The clueless HR chick was in at 7.15 (Oh, they are clueless, don’t start – the women’s waiting room before they give birth) when I came back up stairs. So, at least she knew I was in that early and I that I wasn’t faking it. Not that I really need that, but it is good to have.

I did what I had to do. What I have been employed to do.

I sent off the Audit paperwork - another thing outside my job description. They asked me to check it, but the head accountant had checked it, so why did I have to, I ask you? He’d signed off on it, so fuck it. I sent off all the documents, without a second thought.

The accounts lady sat with me as I did end of month for the New Zealand office. They act like I should know what I am doing, and so far I have faked it without a flaw. I’ve never done it for their company before, this was my fist go at it. I never really feel like I know what I am doing, it is a part of the job, and if you can’t fake competence just a little, you are not going to succeed with contract work.

It poured with rain some time during the afternoon and I was glad I got on the roof this morning in the dark at 6am and cleaned out the gutters.

I left at 3pm, thinking I had done everything. I just have to give myself the benefit of the doubt, as I normally always have, I vaguely know what I am doing. I can’t be too worried about trivial things people throw at me, otherwise I’d never relax away from it.

I didn’t ever want this job to morph into a longer contract. I don’t want to work for a company that has reduced the hours they commit to finance from 32 hours per week to 8 hours per week. That usually never works. It is someone, probably HR, (read, it is HR) grandstanding, only to be ultimately proved wrong. But in the mean time I’m the poor sod who gets squeezed, and is made to look incompetent, so fuck them, I am not doing anything beyond my assignment job description, I’m not getting sucked in. They might as well learn sooner than later that they are wrong.

Thank the universe for my new assignment. I was stressing about it so badly, as it is impossible to do what they want done. The Impossible Job employed me until June 30th, and now that I have a new assignment starting July 01st it can no longer morph into endless weeks of pain. It is weird, but I now feel perfectly relaxed about the Impossible Job, as I will no longer be doing it. It is really bad timing for them, he says smugly, but who the fuck cares.

And Jack even thinks that I have done him the favour, taking the Notting Hill job – I told him it was too far. But, he talked me into it, saying if he could find someone to fill in temporarily at short notice, he’d get the account and the on going fees, commissions, whatever, gold star for him. So, I’m on a win, win. Yay! And I’m my boss’ golden boy of the moment, ha ha. You shouldn’t ever have to think about work when you are away from it, certainly if you are not their permanent employee. Now I don’t. The new assignment is a breeze. It is a deliverance from hell, lovely.

I bought petrol on the way home, if Mark had put petrol in my car after using it all last week, it was on $10 worth. I went to my favourite 7 11 in Abbottsford. As I paid for my fuel and my joint rolling cigarettes, I realised that they do Tattlotto too, so I put a ticket on for tomorrow night.

I reckon two million dollars would do me just fine. It would put me where I should be, if I had had a successful career. It would be compensation for a vile grade six teacher who put me down for twelve months and a bitter auntie who put me down around the same time. It would be compensation for my auntie’s stupidity for selling her big house. And for the bitter auntie and my idiot cousin’s theft of my grandmother’s assets and for my other aunties alcoholic husband’s forgery of her will a day after she had a stroke. All of my relative’s who have left me and my brother and sister all of their money in their wills, of which we didn’t end up seeing one single cent. I learned at a young age that when it comes to money, people are horrible, lying cheats. (family are the worst) Two million would be just enough to keep a secret from everyone. It would be just the right amount that wouldn’t change my life completely. It would be a complimentary win, rather than an evolutionary kind of win.

Ha ha ha, it can't hurt to dream.

I could have a white Fiat Abarth. Sam could have a white GTI Golf, automatic, of course. I could drive the Golf any time I needed a bigger car until Sam got his licence, therefore justifying having the small Fiat. So, in reality, I’d have two cars.

I was home by 3.30.

It was rainy and wet.

The atrium had leaked water. I didn’t check the side gutters when I cleaned out the main problem this morning. I mopped it up. Then I got back on the roof with my bucket and gloves and I cleaned the roof thoroughly.

The long standing leak over the kitchen bench didn’t seem to leak at all. I siliconed it a few weeks ago. Finally? Really, finally have I fixed the dam thing? Could it be true?

I built a fire with my last fire lighter. The last fire lighter is always depressing, it means we no longer have the power of fire until we replenish the stock. No more fires on a whim until I procure another box of the smelly little white things. I could, of course, make a fire the old fashioned way, but I don’t buy newspapers any more, so we never have any paper with which to light a fire. I wonder what is worse for the environment, the whole newspaper industry, or the manufacture and ignition of fire lighters?

We ate Luke’s left over Bolognese, it was better the next day and with the addition of mushrooms and a little water I think it was quite possibly the most perfect Bolognese.

We went to bed at 10.30, Sam’s nana time. I didn’t resist, I was tired, I wanted sleep.

You Ended Up Where?

I was awake at 9am. I headed downstairs sometime after that.

LouLou was asleep on the couch and the fire was out. She clearly hadn’t stacked it up with wood before she went to sleep.

I made coffee, the coffee machine whirred and made lots of noise. LouLou didn’t wake up.

Jane and Jay came out and LouLou still didn’t wake up. We weren’t trying to be silent.

Then at 10am her travel clock boop, boop, bopped and she woke straight up.

Jane left.

LouLou left, saying she would swing by at 6pm to drive Mark and Luke to the airport, since she was driving right passed.

We did the little cleaning that was needed. Then we were all on our computers.

Mark agonised about going to see his mum. Firstly, around 11am. Then at 3pm, eventually going to see her then.

Sam and I ate tiramisu and apple crumble.

Luke fell asleep on the couch.

Mark was home 5’ish.

I text LouLou. She said she was coming… famously late, direction challenged, LouLou.

At 6pm, she text to say she was in St Kilda. Goodo, I thought. 

We waited outside a short time later. No LouLou. Surely, she can’t mess this up?

At 6.15pm, she said she was crossing Brunton Avenue. Okay, good, nearly here. So, I waited outside again. Still no LouLou.

At 6.20pm, She still hadn’t arrived. Seriously? Mark told me to get my car out and drive them.

At 6.30pm, LouLou called to say she was on the Chandler Hwy. What?

I couldn’t help but think, idiot! Brunton Avenue to the Chandler Highway? How do you even do that?

Besides, I was a bit stoned and I never would have gotten so stoned if I had to drive. I should have told them to catch a taxi, but it was the very last second and they had to leave and somebody needed to drive them, there and then, there was no waiting time left, otherwise they wouldn’t have caught their plane.

Seriously, LouLou! No fucken words, really. 

I had to concentrate. I had to switch to driving mode. 

Grrr! I got the car out. 

The freeway disappeared under the front of the car like a charcoal ribbon, smoothly and unhindered. Suddenly the airport was in front of us, then there were lots of lights and we were driving up the arrivals ramp and the cars in front were being slow, dithering, jostling for position, but we had to get to the end and we needed to be there immediately. 

I got them to the doors at 7.45pm’ish. We stopped nose into the gutter. Doors opened. The back door opened. Mark and Luke were talking, but to each other, what they had to do next, their plan of action. The back door slammed shut. Two bristle faces kissed me on either side of my face. I opened the Type Rs wide door and climbed back into the car. I pushed the CD on. Renee Gayer purred to me. I flicked on my driving lights. I selected fist gear and accelerated off to the end of the departures over pass, before it turned right and slid back into the freeway heading away from the airport. I flicked on my head lights. I accelerated smoothly through six gears. I relaxed back into the seat. 

Renee sang, Mid Night Train to Georgia.

It was a lovely night. The freeway wasn’t crowded. The car slipped along the liquorice strip sweetly. 

I seriously couldn’t believe LouLou.

Sam and I went to bed at 9.30pm.

The Gang Comes Over

I was awake at 4am. I tossed and turned until 4.30am when I finally gave in and got up. I hoped the fire would still be going when I got downstairs. 

It was, but only just. A few red coals. 

I built up the fire from near extinction. It was eerie walking in the back yard collecting the wood. It was so dark. And not that I am scared of anything, with all our gardens being semi open, there is always branches cracking, and things falling, that do kind of sound like I am not out there alone. 

It's one of my few skills, getting a nearly dead fire roaring again.

Buddy came in and curled up next to me and slept.Awake just long enough to get comfortable again. 

The fire spat a hot chip onto the carpet and burned the carpet for a second time… before I got the screen back in front of it.

I wished Tulli happy birthday on Facebook. I was weak, it was 5am. My defences were down. Ha ha, do you like that? 

Sam and Mark and I, cleaned the coffee table. Somewhere in the cleaning up, we lost my mouse. Yay! Just what I love from the clean freaks, a tidy house where I can’t find anything.We pushed the furniture around. We got some chairs from upstairs. The house was set.

Luke was cooking.

Sam and I went to Masak Masak for lunch, our favourite Malaysian restaurant in Smith Street. 

Jane and Jay had arrived and Jane had taken up the spot behind my car, without swinging right in next to my car? 

“LouLou won’t fit if the cars are parked like that,” I said to Mark.

Sam had to work on his computer, upstairs to get away from the noise.

I fell asleep on the couch for the afternoon. I had a good four hours sleep.

I was woken by Mark, and his and Luke’s friends, Brad and Esperanto… no, that’s not right. (I was half asleep, just waking up when he said his name) He’s kind of cute, too. They were sitting on the couch closest to the kitchen, sometime around 6-6.30pm.

The house was polished around the edges a bit more, namely candles deposited all over.

The cars had been moved and now were parked correctly.

Rachel called to say she’d stop out the front to drop off the tiramisu. I stood out the front, watching a swish looking VW Gold convertible reverse park, I particularly took note of the LED rear lights, as I waited for Rachel to drive up in her new VW Golf. 

It wasn’t until Sam came out and immediately started helping the person getting out of the convertible, did I realise it was Rachel.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a convertible.”

“Oh, didn’t I?”

Clearly, she meant not to mention that small fact. Not sure why? 

LouLou arrived and took up her reserved parking spot out the back, sometime after 7pm.

Adriana, Bill, Matt, Perry, Wesley, Kim, Chris, and Lily all arrived in due course.

Luke made Pumpkin and Leak Risotto and Spaghetti Bolognese and rhubarb apple crumble. Rachel made lemon tarts.

People kept congregating outside, so it couldn’t have been too cold out there.

And a good time was had by all. It is always fun when the old gang get together. 

Sam and I cleaned all throughout the evening, so there was not great clean up needed.

Sam and I went to bed around 3am, leaving Luke and LouLou to chat.

Hearing Bad News From Lauri

I went down Burnley Street and straight on to the freeway from there. One toll charge. It was easy. It took me half an hour.

I laughed as I whooshed down the freeway, more hours and more money, who’d have thought in all the panic at the beginning of the week, even if it is yet another sideways step.

It was one of the HR girl’s birthdays and we ate cakes all day. 

They had a fully kitted out kitchen with all the ingredients you might need to make sandwiches for yourself for lunch. They have salads, hot dishes and cold dishes, almost anything you might want to eat. 

I made two ham and tomato toasted sandwiches for lunch. They have pressed chicken and two types of cheese. I think may be that is what they offer every day.

I was updating employees details all day.

I text LouLou during the day to tell her that I couldn’t get anything for Saturday night. I am encouraged to try when she said we’d have to drink champagne instead. I realised I hadn’t done anything about it, so I did. I seem to be texting all day.

Mark and Luke took my car and say they are staying the night at Jeff and Raymond’s. You could see that Luke was hesitant to go when he knew that pot was about to arrive.

Guido dropped in just as Mark and Luke backed the car down the lane way, but they didn’t see each other. It is a wonder. It was as though the roller door had just shut and the doorbell rang. 

Hi love,

hope you are well, I have been too, until now

About 3 weeks ago lumps appeared in my neck and low and behold after several tests I have been diagnosed with a class b lymphoma, highly curable with surgery and 6 months of chemotherapy. Lumps are in my neck and groin now

They appeared 3 weeks ago out of the blue, just woke up one Saturday morning and looked in the mirror to notice them, they have swelled a lot and I look like a bullfrog.

I don’t as yet really know much else, I only found out last friday, Monday I had an appointment at the hospital with the doctors and they said its highly curable so that’s a great thing to hear

This Monday I go in for an assessment before they do a proper biopsy to see the structure of the cancer and a ct scan to see where and how big lumps may be in my body

That’s all I know now, ive cried a lot, ive laughed a lot too, ands that’s what I need, laughter and prince and my music and Leroy and my family and friends

I promise to keep you informed

I have spoken to my brothers and sister and my mother

Leroy is a rock, I have a great group of friends here to help me get through this as i plan to do

Anyway, im starting to cry again so im going to send this now

I love you lots

Lauri

Lauri

Hey, wow! Holy shit. Fuck, hey! 

I think laughing a lot is good, staying happy, it's good for all of us, it makes us all well, I'm sure. It's good to know it's highly curable, that's great. It's a shit to have to go through the treatment, I'm sure, but just concentrate on the positive outcome and the day you can look back at it and realise it's far behind you. 

I guess, you'll have everyone running around after you, in the mean time, I'm sure that would be cool. Let them, that's what I say. I guess that translates into Leroy running around after you, still he's retired, what else has he got to do?

You and Delta Goodram, hey, I think? You'll have to wear long dresses and do tacky pop songs. Maybe, you should get a few of her cds. Maybe Prince and Delta have done a previously undiscovered duet together.  I'd like to see that.

I'll be thinking of you and be sending you all the positive energy in the world.

Read up on cannabis oil, it's meant to be some kind of cure, treatment. Sadly though, smoking it doesn't do you any good, although I'm sure it couldn't hurt, you know, is what I say... of course. But listen to your doctors, obviously.

Stay strong, you'll get through it. It is amazing how we can doing things, you know, when you have to.

I was just talking to Matt about you... an hour ago. I put my laptop down in front of me and was just about to open it up when Matt arrived, but I didn't open if until after he left, so I hadn't read your email. Matt's got Danny D working for him and it reminded me of that time the three of us went to the Tunnel at 6am Sunday morning, or whatever time it was, off our faces and we couldn't stop laughing about how shit straight night clubs were. Do you remember, there was like two lights flashing.

You'll have to get yourself a dog. Have you got a dog? Didn't you have one, at one stage? Some little dog? Or am I imagining that? They are good companion animals while you are recuperating. I love my bulldog sleeping on the bed with me, even if he does snore like a bitch. But so does Sam. Dog on one side and boyfriend on the other who both snore exactly the same, it's really weird. I get it in stereo. Although, that was really only during our week of 40 degree days in summer, when it didn't drop below 30 for five days and we all needed the only air conditioned room in the house. Junior normally sleeps in his kennel, don't think I sleep with him normally. Still, the pussies who complain about being kept awake by snoring, you know, the "I haven't slept in 30 years" brigade, don't get any sympathy from me, because I still fell asleep in 5 minutes, even with the two of them.

My poor old cat disappeared, so I'm catless for the first time in my life. She never quite got over the bulldog moving in. Pussies, cat, that's the only reason I told you that. Still, if ever I'm anywhere and somebody tells me they have a black and white kitten they need to find a home for, I reckon I'd say yes. I've always wanted a black and white cat. I could be a sucker for a long haired red kitten too, quite possibly.

oops. I nearly stubbed my j out in my dinner, thinking it was the ash tray, they were next to each other on the coffee table, shrug, so I guess I'd better start concentrating on what I am doing.

I'll be thinking of you

and waiting for more news.

I love you lots, too.

Hugs (Christian)

Sam made steam rice noodles for dinner.

I called Antony and he said I could get him bullets for his gun while I was in Clayton and I lost interest in talking to him. For somebody who has been locked away due to mental health issues, it’s not funny. I never know what to say to him when he says shit like that.

We went to bed at 10.30pm.

New Job

I left home at 8am. I got to Food Farmers.

I drove down Victoria Street and up Burnley Street and through Toorak to Toorak Road. Then up Toorak Road to the freeway, to miss all the tolls. I didn’t really strike traffic until I crossed Glenferrie Road and down the hill to the freeway. Everybody goes that way to avoid the tolls. After that was plain sailing. It took me three quarters of an hour to get to work.

But it hurt my toes again, and my foot was sore all day. I was worried that I would be able to keep up the driving.

Food Farmers is cool. They are all friendly, it reminds me of MMP. I prefer it. I hate corporate.

I did filing all day. It didn’t seem like a very good use of my time, but Voula said she hadn’t quite got herself organised. I assume, she would have to have done it herself, if I didn’t. And there was a pile. I was charming and nothing was too much trouble and Voula loved me. She was charmed when I could pronounce her Greek surname correctly. The benefit, I guess, of having Greek friends, that I could make an accurate guess. 

They provide lunch for all their staff. I’d taken my lunch, though. I had the second reheating of the tomato soup. It was all a bit over cooked by that stage, but I ate it anyway. It never occurred to me to ditch it and make something fresh, as Sam told me he did when I got home.

On the way home, I took the freeway to The Yarra Boulevard, as I wanted to see how many tolls there were, as I had to look after my toes, otherwise I wouldn’t be driving anywhere and not earning anything. It was only one toll and it was infinitely easier. I got home in half an hour. Despite being further way, it was easier than going to the miserable toy company.

Sam made cream pasta.

Mark drove to the airport and picked up Luke.

Sam and I went to bed at 10.30pm once Big Bang Theory was over.  Sam laughs more at Big Bang Theory than anything else, and it is a joy to watch him. 

Mark and Luke had some guy come over at 11pm. Shrug, whatever. Luke likes big dicks up his arse. And there is nothing like a Melbourne guy to fuck a NSW guy stupid. 

Stacking Wood Is Good

I was up at 8am. Buddy and I walked Sam to the park. We waved Sam off to his office. 

We met Gilbert the black Frenchie on the way home.

I had to go to the doctor about my foot.

I forgot to take my x-ray, stupid me. It was a different doctor to Doc Johnny. Apparently, I have a fracture in my fourth toe. There is nothing they can do, just strap it to the next toe and eventually it will heal.

He took my blood pressure, which was a little high, 135 over 82, so he said he’d measure it again. As we were waiting to take the second measurement, he asked me if I was stressed at work. As I talked about work, he took the second measurement, which rose sharply to 140 over 90. 

He said, “I believe you, just talking about work sent you blood pressure up.”

Well, that is hardly surprising, I thought. The miseries at the toy company would do that to anyone. 

I did my TattsLotto, to get me out of the toy company, and withdrew money to pay for the wood.

Mark stayed home and we chatted for the afternoon. Mark heated up the remaining tomato soup for lunch. He heated up the whole saucepan though. Roll of the eyes. 

I seemed to be waiting for the rubbish men to come all day.

I seemed to be waiting for the wood man to come all day.

They both came late in the afternoon.

Mark and I stacked the wood and cleaned the back yard.

Cunts do this

Unfortunately I am unavailable to attend the X Street Reunion on Saturday, I am under too much stress and am not well . For goodness sake don’t take this on board as a cause or feel responsible , you have done nothing . 

I can’t turn up on Saturday for a good time with people I love and cherish without being heavily armed in anticipation of violent confrontation at X Street , which is not a safe place for me . I will win that confrontation . 

It would not be of any advantage to anybody for me to arrive with this in mind.

I am well aware of my thought processes being out there and have chatted with Mental Health Triage who have in the strongest terms told me not to turn up and will contact me again and may enact their powers to prevent me from going to the city. I have also made an  eh with my shrink . 

This is what happens when you eventually stop making excuses for cunts behaviour and words and realise that the intention was to cause long term harm and designed to do so with self gratification involved . Hurt turns to anger . To say that I am angry would be the biggest understatement of the century , I am at the next level . 

All of you take care , Love Antony

Mark called Antony and spoke to him. Antony is under some sort of delusion that there would be violence if he comes to the party on Saturday night. It’s a worry.

Jack called me in the afternoon, my phone told me. I called him back on the premise of telling him that I didn’t know anything about NZ end of year and could he get me notes. He asked me about The toy company and I told him they were expecting too much in one day a week. He told me that Vonda had told him the same thing. 

Jack said he had a three day a week job in Clayton that he wanted me to do, something about if he filled it temporarily, he’d get the job of filling the permanent role. I told him it was too far. He talked me into it. He offered me more money. And considers that I am doing him the favour.

I told him that I’d prefer 3 days per week rather than one day a week and he said he understood. He said do the Food Farmers job and he’d get me out of the toy company. I agreed. I just have to do the next two Mondays and then I didn’t have to do any the toy company after that.

I’d learn things doing the toy company, but it might have killed me.

Food Farmers is like an old show, but I won’t further my skills with it.

But it means more money for less stress, so I thought, Fuck it!

Mark cooked Lakernooki. An old recipe of (mother) Margs which he likes as it is an old recipe of Marges, but it is just all sorts of leftovers cooked up into something resembling food. He even went to the supermarket. Again, he accidentally took my wallet and I ended up paying for it anyway. Grrrr! 

Oh That Old Work Chestnut

Nina Low (the toy company) rang me at 8am and said she needed the details of some figures, as someone was questioning them. I guess I was happy to tell her, but I so wanted to tell her that this would classify as the second day, which they were claiming that role didn’t require. I didn’t say that, of course, but I wanted to.

Ah work, who needs it. But what about the future, I hear you say? Yes, well good point. The future? I guess I should be worried about the future? We spend so much time worrying about it though. What about today? What about living in the moment? 



Is climate change and our federal government and other governments around the world scandalous neglect of the environment going to make the future a mute point? Is big business and the likes of Rupert Murdoch actively work against the environment science going to make the future less guaranteed? You know, you have got to wonder? All you have to do, like a good defense lawyer, is plant a seed of doubt in people’s minds… which they have succeeded in doing, for ‘their’ own profits.



Some scientists say we have twenty good years left, so I’m never going to get to retirement, if they are true. Well, I’ll be nudging, true. But what is the point of planning so meticulously for Armageddon?



But back to the future. Granted, I should get myself a job that I love, yes I should. How many people do you think are doing jobs that they love? I have no idea, really. But mostly I hear people say that they hate their jobs? Or they wish they didn’t have to work. Or they wish they did something else. They wished they did something that they loved.



I wish I was one of those people who had it all sorted, career plan, superannuation paid to the max, money in the bank… energy bills geared towards the maximum discount, I wish I was. I’ve always been someone who has wanted to be something else, do something else, but never quite managing it. My personal life has always been so happy and so contented that my work life has always taken a second place. Shrug. So now it would seem that I have got to a stage when my professional life is a drag. Pity really. I know I have turned into one of those whiny people who I feel sorry for. It is true. How did that happen? I mean, I know how it happened, it is just an eye opener, is that a sad truth, that it has. I hear myself some days, oh what a whinger.



They say that old age is no place for sissies. We spend our whole lives preparing for it, which just seems odd sometimes. How much of living do we have to allocate to dying, I sometimes wonder?



So, have another ciggie, another cream bun and the future will take care of itself.

So, who wants to work? I do, actually, I don’t mind work, but a good job, with nice people. I’m just beginning to hate continually going in and cleaning up somebody else’s mess. I think it makes me live in a constant state of anxiety. It is time for a change.



My old boss, Beck, has the perfect job for me, but she can’t get rid of Miss Useless who my boss inherited when she took her job. Assistant Financial blah blah. (I can’t put the words in print) Miss Useless gets everything wrong and is hopeless. And she doesn’t even seem to care, spending her time on Facebook and Gumtree and other such sites, unashamedly. She got pregnant last year and everything was looking good for me, but then annoyingly she had a miscarriage, so she didn’t leave. Damn! 



It was three days a week, which was not quite enough for me, but now my boss is only going to work four days so what would be my role has increased to four days per week, which would just suit me.



Grrrrr!



Why is the perfect job dangled so temptingly in front of me but yet remains just out of my grasp? It is annoying.

I’ve got one day a week this week. I think I am on the outer with my boss Jack. I’m not really sure why.

Mark got up after me. I was already sitting at the coffee table with my lappey. He sat there for a while not saying much. Then he said, 

“Well, I guess nobody is going to the shop to get me milk.”

Really, I thought. There is plenty of milk at shop. There was, of course, light milk in the fridge, but Mark insists on full cream milk. Seriously?

He clearly didn’t want to go to the supermarket, he clearly wanted me to go. I think, expected me to go was more how he was feeling. He’s funny. Who can blame him, I never want to go to the supermarket either, but, if you want something, other than what your hosts – no matter if said host is your ex-boyfriend – have on offer, go and get it yourself, you have little choice.

Mark headed off and had lunch with his mother, before heading to Sandy’s to help her pack up her house. He took my car. I let him use my car whenever he wants. He never puts petrol in it after he has used it. he somehow managers to use all the petrol it has in it, also. 

Anyway, I’m off out into the garden to clean up.

I decided that if I cut up all the garden waste in the back yard and put it in the bin, it would be taken tomorrow. Then tomorrow, I could cut up the rest of it and even though it wouldn’t be collected until next week, at least it would be out of sight and the back yard would be relatively clean. I wondered why I hadn’t thought about this before?

I also have that second bin that had been hanging around in the street for weeks that nobody seemed to claim. I eventually bought it in and stored in the front yard. So, I could fill that one with all of the garden refuse, while keeping my normal bin for our household rubbish. Fuck the council! They keep putting our rates up to pay for the Yarra Council’s CEO’s pay rises, we need something back sometimes. 

What if everybody did that, I hear you ask? What about it? Everybody didn’t and everybody wont. Hopefully, the second bin won’t be claimed by anyone in the street and I will be able to claim it again for future use. It didn’t really matter if that happened, or not. Whatever? I must mark it in some way so I easily recognise which one it is. Sam came up with an Apple sticker, which was good thinking, so we stuck that to the side of the stray bin and claimed it as ours.

Antony called me in the afternoon and said that (his mother) Aileen had to go to Peter Mac and have three more operations up until the end of October. He said it was stressing him out and setting off his anxieties. He also told me that he’d got it into his mind that (stepson) Fenn would be at the party here on Saturday night. I think he dreamt that they had a big fight.

I assured Antony that Fenn was not invited and that he wouldn’t becoming. I told him that the last time I saw Fenn I told him that I never wanted to see him again, and while I didn’t mean it at the time, he took it to heart, of course, and over the years I have decided that those words were prophetic.

I never want to see Fenn again and I am really comfortable with that decision.

The doctor’s receptionist called and said I had to come in the next day.

Sam cooked tomato soup. It was better than the last time.

My Day At The (Miserable) Toy Company

I was up just before 6am. It was still wintry dark. I wanted to get to work @ the toy company, early to get everything done. I only have until 4pm to get it all finished. I figured if I got to work at 7am, as Vonda said she did, I’d have plenty of time, a full day even, to complete the job. It takes about half an hour, or slightly longer, to get from Fitzroy to the other side of Richmond, if I left at 6.30am I should do it.

Eat something. Shower. Cut up chunks of lamb and put it in your lunch box. Leave the house. Catch a tram.

Catch the tram? What was I thinking, I thought. I am only catching the tram because parking is near on impossible at 8.30am. But at 7am there are plenty of car parks. Down the weird little back street out the back where everyone crams their cars in together. The thing was that I’d told Mark he could have the car. I wavered for quite a few minutes, what to do, and then decided, sorry Mark, but I am going to drive, it is my car, after all. Sorry. 

So, I park down the back blocks down the weird little street with the appropriate name and walk through to the office. It’s all miserable, the whole place, with people and buildings, and streets all jammed seemingly into a space that isn’t quite big enough. It’s the sort of place you go to kill yourself, I thought, as I walked through. Oh yes, they have banged in some gardens, oh yes, lovely horticultural effort, but it doesn’t really help keep down the suicide rate. I chuckled to myself, in the half dark as I made my way to the toy company’s front door.

The HR chick said not to discuss the pay rises in the main office as only a select few got them. Both HR chicks were two of just five who got pay rises. How many times have I seen that? HR chicks look after themselves when it comes to pay rises and benefits. Over and above any other employee, it is a universal truth. Having said that, I’m not sure whey she’d think I would discuss the pay rises with anyone? 

It took me most of the day to get my work done. My deadline was 4pm as the reporting OS cuts off at that time.

The crazy arse system backups they have take an inordinate amount of time, as they are in India. Fifteen minutes, I had to wait. (What a stupid system) So, I spent an hour in total during the day waiting for them. When Nina Low made some comment about should she go to lunch, or should she wait around to do authorise my work, I sensed she thought I was slow, so I offered her the back up. She and the CEOs assistant who sits in front of me, both agreed that is why Vonda didn’t do them. (I'm a consultant, and something goes wrong and it is shown that I didn't follow procedure. Oh yes, I can see how that would go) All I could think was, stuff you both, you are implicit trying to prove that my role can be done in one day per week. Fuck them! I’d already started at 7am. This job is not a one day a week role.

The “wet” accountant bought up the pay roll tax audit again, asking me if had I sorted it out. Vonda had done it and given it to him, it is his responsibility, I think. I told him I know nothing about it, even if I did investigate and find the deadline is June 27th. I didn’t tell him that. Work it out for yourself, buddy. Oh yes, I know, I should be more helpful, but none of these people inspire help in me, or anyone else, I would guess. 

I feel like I am drowning in this job, due to time constraints.  It’s all basic accounting, but the time constraint is impossible. I’m praying for TattsLotto to get me out of it. Anything, to get me out of it. I hate this job, it is miserable, kind of ironic for a toy company, don’t you think? 

Not long after 4pm, I was out of there. Don’t make me go back is all I could think walking to my car. 

Sam cooked noodles for dinner.

Serene Sunday

I was up at 6am. It was still dark. The fire was still burning. Junior came straight inside when I called him. I made coffee. I was hungry, so I made muesli straight away. It was quiet and still.

The fire was still burning from last night, occasionally crackling just to makes its presence heard.

The day gradually got lighter, the dark breaking, fracturing, cracking letting the light seep through. The shadows in the room faded and disappeared, floated away, I don’t know where shadows go. The day was light outside when Sam appeared at 8am.

The sun came out and the sky changed to blue.

Luke went to Tasmania to see his family. It didn’t go well last time, let’s hope it goes well this visit.

We played computer games and ate fig jam and peanut butter toast and drank coffee. It was that kind of day, Sunday at home watching the day pass by.

It became a cool, wintery day with light rain.

Sam and I cooked roast lamb for dinner. Roast lamb, well cooked, it doesn’t get better than that.

Sunday evening television featured ABC's flagship political analysis show Insiders, breaking down the ongoing domestic friction surrounding Prime Minister Tony Abbott's highly unpopular 2014 Federal Budget. 

I went to bed early, as I had to be at work early. Lovely work. Oh shit, can I do it? Can I fake my way through it just enough to get out the other end unscathed. That is the key, if you can look confident and appear to know what you are doing just enough to fool the clients you have it made.

I’m good with well organised clients who have well defined procedures and are run well and smoothly. With them I have no problems. I can plug into the kind of office and cruise through without too many problems.

It’s the badly run, poorly sourced, procedureless and sytemless offices that I’m not so good with. I just don’t have enough interest in them to make them work. I should be doing your figures for you, not setting up procedures and systems, that isn’t my role. I’m supposed to be keeping your boat afloat, recommending a new course where I think it is necessary, not rebuilding the fucker.

I tossed and turned thinking about it. 

American radio personality and voice actor Casey Kasem died at age 82. I always think about Michael Buble when I think of Casey Kasem and the story Michael Buble tells.

Michael Bublé shares a heartwarming story about the first time he heard the legendary radio host Casey Kasem announce his name on the air.

As a young boy, Bublé used to hate mowing the lawn for his mother every Saturday. The only thing that got him through the grueling two-hour chore was wearing headphones and listening to Casey Kasem's American Top 40 Countdown. He was captivated by the show, especially how Kasem would read long-distance dedications for people who were dealing with personal loss or life milestones.

Years later, after launching his own music career, Bublé experienced a surreal full-circle moment. While listening to the radio, he heard Casey Kasem count down the billboard hits and introduce the number one song in the land: Michael Bublé's "Home".

Bublé reflects on the memory with immense gratitude, describing it as an unbelievable feeling to go from a kid pushing a lawnmower and finding solace in Kasem's voice, to suddenly hearing that same iconic voice say his name and play his hit single. He frequently references Kasem's famous sign-off, "Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars," as a lasting inspiration in his life.

I'm a 21st Century Human Being After All... Apparently

Doctor Johnny said the strap on my toe was a good idea. He asked if I felt any pain when I was in bed at night? I wondered if we were still talking about my toe. I was tempted to answer, that depends if you are doing it right. He asked if there was any stabbing pain? Again, see previous answer. 

“I’ll send you for an xray.” He showed me a list and said, “These are the places that don’t charge.”

“Okay.”

“But you don’t have long, as they will close soon.”

I turned in the opposite direction to where I was going intending to do the block and head up Langridge Street to Nicholson Street and through the back streets of Carlton. I thought it would be easier than heading west, essentially, with all the city traffic. All those traffic lights that now litter Victoria Parade, I hate them. Stop start. Stop start. Stop start. I figure one of those whiney, moly-coddled Gen Y’s must have got frightened at an uncontrolled intersection one day and had complained to the government to make the city safer for them.

I’d not travelled one hundred metres when I was stopped at the first red light (the idiot councils are installing those stupid small traffic lights all over the inner suburbs) when I thought, the quickest way from point A to point B can’t be heading away from point B to begin with. What was I thinking? Victoria Street was remarkably empty of traffic, so I dropped a quick U-ie and headed towards the city along Victoria Street.

The traffic took up all of the positions at the lights of Victoria and Hoddle, except for the far left hand side lane, so I quickly slipped on my indicator and change four lanes. There was a truck next to me and a car, a black BMW sedan, and a truck on the other side of it. A semitrailer pulled up next to me in the left hand turn lane, making me feel a little hemmed in. I’m glad I am not one of those namby pamby scardy cat drivers of today who is intimidated by such things, I simply saw it as a challenge.

The lights changed. The two trucks on either side of me selected the first of their sixteen gears and rumbled into life, with the sound of air escaping and metal vibrating, lurching forward visibly. I slid away from them quickly, as did the BMW. I’m still in love with my GTI6, even if in car years – not dissimilar to dog years, I’m sure – he is rapidly becoming an old man, he can still pull up the waist band of his shorts and sprint with the best of them, when I give him my right foot. I could have easily left the BMW behind, but instead we did a kind of synchronised driving, as I swapped from lane four to lane one and the BMW did the reverse of that. We just kind of swapped, with the BMW falling in behind me as we did the swap in a big X pattern in Victoria Parade.

He’s now in semi retirement, spending most of his time under a car cover in my back yard, but he is still willing and able when I take him out. I'm still pleased I kept him after I bought a new car.

Lane four was clear ahead, lane one was not, although the white van in front was moving. Lanes two and three were not clear and were stationary. I had no choice though as I had to turn right immanently. The BMW skirted the mess of traffic in lane four and disappeared out of sight.

The white van now in front was crawling along at a glacial pace, and I couldn’t see through it, it as it had a frosted back window, to see what was in front of it, so much so that lanes two and three cleared. I slipped into lane two to see there was nothing in front of the white van. I felt myself roll my eyes as I whizzed passed. I slipped back into lane one, as soon as I got passed. Pretty quickly there was a long line of cars turning right the last few jutting out into my lane and I had to slip back into lane two and pass all of them. I swapped lanes a couple of time more, in a slalom due to slow drivers until I was in the right hand turn lane into Rathdowne Street. I was way at the back of that lane and there were so many cars in front of me that I thought that I wouldn’t get around on the first green arrow, so I veered left back into the forward lane, figuring I could hang a right at the next side street, Drummond Street, and be on my way, instead of sitting in the right hand turn lane waiting for the next green arrow. The traffic was heavy, but I could see at the next side street that the stopped oncoming cars had left room for those of us wanting to turn right. I watched the white Golf that had been in front of me in the right hand turn lane as it made the green arrow with ease and I thought, Damn!

A slow Hyundai in front of me crawled along, so much so that I wondered if I would make the green light at all, but we did. It continued to crawl along to the right hand turn lane at Drummond Street where it put its right hand indicator on and I thought, Damn! again. It just stopped at the clear path around in front of the stopped oncoming traffic and I wanted to toot, but I didn’t. Then, just as it seemed to timidly inch forward (would that be centimetre forward now a days?) to make its way around, one of the stationary cars sitting at the front of the oncoming traffic decided to turn left, obviously as a spur of the moment decision, not seeing the motor bike coming up on its left and the two collided and the motorbike rider fell off his bike and ended up laying on his back on the ground across the entrance to the lane of Drummond Street that I wanted to use.

“Idiot!” I said, as I banged my hands on the top of the steering wheel. “Oh shit!” I nudged forward up behind the slow Hyundai, which I suspected would fold and just sit and wait it out. I was block in on all sides, there was no way for me to untangle myself from the mess of cars surrounding me. I slumped back against the seat and started to accept defeat. Then, miraculously, the slow Hyundai moved off completing a very smooth U-turn and I followed. It accelerated off into the far left lane and the two of us slid passed all the stationary cars that were heading east and slipped around left into Rathdowne Street as smoothly as you like.

From the jaws of defeat, I thought.

I rocketed up Rathdowne to Queensberry, turned left and then turn right back into Drummond and parked. Phew!

As I walked to the xray building, I started to feel somewhat ashamed of my reaction to the motorbike rider getting knocked off his bike. A man got hit by a car and all I could think was ‘idiot’ and feel concern only for myself and how it was going to affect me. I felt a shiver of shame run up my spine. I called the car driver the idiot, really. But still, I was really only concerned about my path being blocked, it is true. I wasn't shocked, I was more annoyed than anything. I didn’t really think the rider was hurt, however, it all happened slowly and he kind of slid on the road. But still...

I guess I am a true 21st century human being after all, despite what I may say to the contrary. The thing that would have made that statement more true was if I'd got out my iPhone and filmed the whole thing.