Religion is a smart business. They sell an invisible product and if it doesn't work they blame the customer

Anti-vaxxers

Every time that crackpot bunch of antivaxxer's protest in the city, because they gave birth to a nuffy child, or didn’t get enough love from their parents, or have failed at everything in life, or whatever, and they want to blame their emotional damage on anything other than the truth, we have the police helicopter hovering over our house for hours as this bunch of dopes kick and bite and scratch and fart and belch their way through the CBD squawking like the deluded that they are. It is like having a chaff cutter take up residence next door. For hours. The whole house constantly vibrates.

I mean talk about putting your stupidity on full display for the world to see. What? You are protesting against the only thing that is going to keep you safe in a pandemic? The same thinking that is spreading outbreaks of measles and Whooping Cough throughout the world.

Seriously people go get some professional help and stop inflicting your life crisis on other people.

Australia Day

On a very simple level, if Australia Day isn't inclusive of all Australians, then it is not really Australia Day at all.

Work Is A Shit Show

Work has turned into a shit show. I don’t know why? It’s been for the last month, or so. The Xmas break and our company shut down always makes life a little difficult, but only in the margins, it isn’t usually impossible like it has been feeling. January is always the problem month, but not usually like this, not usually this difficult. I really don’t know what has gone wrong.

Sure, we have had an application failure, which the provider company is still scrambling to rectify.

And yes, we have had multiple employees come down with Covid over the break, so I have had to fix all of that… by fucking default. Oh yes, me. (Lips of string) HR has so thoroughly failed at enforcing – I’d call it a basic lack of training, and an abdication of the basic HR function – company authorisers of leave, despite many attempts by the execs to fix the problem, that the CFO put me in charge of authorising the whole companies unauthorised leave – because of the affect accrued leave has on the figures it becomes a critical profit contributor – yes, me. So yeah, way to go HR. thumbs up emoji.

I had so much work to get through and in a reduced time frame due to the Invasion Day holiday… and boy didn’t I whine in Sam’s ear. He said they were bleeding constantly. As it turned out, I got everything done well within the time frame I had. I had time to spare come 3pm Tuesday. So, is it me, I am left to wonder? Maybe it is me? Maybe, I have turned into a whiney little bitch and I just don’t know it?

(I put the question to Sam and he responded yes without a moments hesitation)[Ah, fuck him]

Maybe, I have become allergic? Corporate intolerant? Bullshit sensitive? I don't know what it is.

Anyway, it is nice to have a day off, says the boy who only works 3 days per week. I know. What is he like?

Fight Club

 Who knew the movie Fight Club was a meditation on same sex attraction.

Inside In The Cool

It was hot. It has been hot for days. It is going to be hot for days yet.

We took the dogs walking early. We ate breakfast out at 8am, sitting outside at a cafe with a cool morning breeze. There was an Oodle at one table, a Beagle at another table and the bulldogs. They all lay sprawled across the ground gazing at each other, tongues out.

I ate Eggs Benedict, Sam ate an assortment of field mushrooms on rye. He always wants to eat half/half as he puts it, but I am not really a good food sharer. I insisted I didn't want to share, this morning, I was loving my eggs. Sam always looks at me like I am impossible when I want to eat my own breakfast.

Then we stayed inside and watched movies with the aircon on for the rest of the day. What else is there to do on a hot day? And the bulldogs were happy, they are not so happy in the heat.

Oh, I know, we complain when it is cold - not me - we complain when it is hot. Not that I am complaining, but it has been weirdly hot, with no respite, just lately. We normally only use our aircon only for a few days during summer, usually at night to sleep - actively trying to contain how many days we use it for environmental reasons, and I think it can become addictive. And, I think it is good to feel changes in temperature - but we've had it on nonstop this last week, or so.

I guess, in what some people may view as contradictory - but then again as humans we are contradictory - I'm loving this weather. It is nice being home in t-shirt and shorts and bare feet for days on end.

We ate Chicken Teriyaki for lunch and Laksa for dinner. And the iced water was kept on repeat. Ice transforms water in summer, don't you think?

We watched Trainspotting.

We watched Erin Brokovitch because David said it was his all time favourite movie, which made me curious. I've seen it before. Hmm. I liked it, sure. Favourite all time movie? Nyr.

We watched Duel, Steven Spielberg's first movie.

We watched The ReWrite, Hugh Grant escapism. Not really one of his best.

We watched Mash.

We watched the new season of Ozark.

And then that was pretty much the weekend done, and it is back to the salt mines tomorrow, oh so quickly.

Bruno and Milo cohabitating just how you want to see them.

Funny, as soon as the sun goes down, Bruno will bounce Milo like a play toy.

Buddy and Milo have always been like best buddies, but Bruno has always been a bit more 'cliched dog' about it all. We don't seem to be able to get through to him, not completely.

Art May Just Save The World

I was out walking Buddy and Bruno when I came upon this.  I have no idea what it means, but I like it. And, you know, anyone's creativity is nice to stumble upon. Anything that makes you wonder, anything that takes you out of yourself and fires your imagination is a wonderful thing. We can all have our own interpretation. If it means different things to all of us, even better.

I May Have Given Jackson Wag The Wrong Impression

We walked the dogs to the dog park early as it was going to be 30 degrees today.

As we walked home again, we were stopped by two young kids, a boy and a girl, with their father, who wanted to pat Buddy and Bruno, who dutifully complied.

As the kids patted the dogs, my neighbour Jackson Wag walked up and watched the goings on intently.

It took long than I really wanted it too, I was hungry and wanted breakfast and coffee, so I gravitated over to Jackson.

"It's true what they say about dogs," said Jackson Wag. "They pull the boys and girls."

I turned to Jackson and said. "When I was younger I had a Rottweiler and I certainly used to pull the boys with him."

Jackson looked at me with a strange look on his face, but at the same time Sam had taken control of the bulldogs and we were on our way.

At home standing in the kitchen, I suddenly thought. When I was in my twenties I had a Rottweiler and I used to pull adult boys with him. Boys my age. I felt my hand slide over my mouth.

Oh? No? Surely not. He did give me a weird look.

I used to take Rocky to lots of gay street festivals and picnics and he was a huge, beautiful bundle of muscles and I think gay boys were, subconsciously, attracted to his masculinity. He was a pretty butch dog.

I only ever pulled guys as in got their attention and had a chat, was the centre of attention with Rocky. I never pulled guys, you know, back to my place. Oh, maybe once. 😁 But that isn't what I meant.

Happy Buddy

 

No Junk Mail

This was in my letter box recently. Do 'No Junk Mail' signs mean nothing now a days?

Sometime ago, I caught Jehovah's putting pamphlets in my letter box and when I asked them, "Can't you read?", pointing to the 'No Junk Mail' sign, they were clearly offended.

About HR

The irony is that HR don't really give a shit about the employees of the company. Well, let me just say, they care way more about themselves than they do about anybody else.

Most HR professionals I have worked with are too busy sucking up the arse of the person above them to really care a toss about anyone else.

They are looking to their own career trajectory to really notice anybody else's.

They are generally awful, self focused people.

They are not there to help the employees, they are essentially the bosses gestapo. They are there to do the dirty work of the executive.

Oh? HR

We had a financial/employment issue that should have happened 24th December but for one reason, and another, it didn't happen. Consequently, is was scheduled to be finalised next week, ready to go, nobody has to do anything else. That was until HR got involved.

This is not a legal issue. No one will be disadvantaged. No one will be worse off.

Brisbane HR took it upon themselves to take up the issue, even though, by their own admission, not one employee had questioned it, let alone complained.

"So, you haven't had any complaints from staff?"

"No."

"So, there isn't really a problem, then."

"There is a problem," was the reply. "This should have been finalised last year."

So, Brisbane HR were going to go and check with their employees, which, of course, would result in employees complaining, because HR would have gone to them for that specific result. They were determined to create a problem where no problem, actually, existed.

But, you know, if I have learned one thing with my interaction with HR they love to be right. They will go and create the problem, so they can appear to be fixing it and so often prove their point in the process.

Poor Boris would have been dealing with this today and tomorrow, all quite unnecessarily.

I'm Not Laughing

Sam said I had to help him hose the back yard, as it smelt like piss as he sat out on the veranda on the wicker chairs. (Now that Buddy is old with a dodgy knee, he isn’t so diligent about going up the stairs to the back part of the garden to his usual pissoir)

I wasn’t keen, I was lying on the couch, what can I say? “Just hose it.”

“You need to hose while I scrub with the broom.”

“Nah.”

“Come on,” he said. “Help me.”

“Nah,” I said. “It doesn’t need two people.”

“Come on.”

“Nah,” I said. “I’m comfortable.”

“Come on, help me,” he said. “It won’t take long.”

“Do you mean you just want me to hold the hose?”

“Yes.”

“Oh okay,” I said. I sooooo didn’t want to.

He got the broom and I got the hose. He instructed me how to use the hose. (how to use a hose? 😕) He swept.

The hose reel, windy thingy, was facing the wrong way and I couldn’t pull the hose out, so I turned to adjust the direction of the reelly wheels, it took me a couple of seconds, and when I turned back Sam was standing as stiff as a board dripping with water.

I hadn’t watched where I was pointing the hose. “Oops.”

“Do not laugh,” he said.

The Calibre of Scott Morrison Continually Called Into Question

Scott Morrison has used the whole unvaccinated tennis player as a deflection to his poor performance and his governments poor performance (not to mention his chance to have a go at the Andrew’s government, which wasn’t, actually, involved) and Djokovic, along with the trashing of Australia’s international reputation, is just collateral damage in Morrison’s bid to be re-elected, par for the course for our morally selective Prime Minister.

Is It Art?

 We should just clear coat it and be done with it

Washed the Dogs

We took the bulldogs walking early. It is always nice to go walking early, that beginning of the day, nothing quite like it. I wore jeans, it was really a shorts situation, and I was sweating by the time I got home. I never get sympathy from Sam with such miscalculations, just a roll of his gorgeous eyes. It was still a lovely morning for a walk, despite my wardrobe mistake.

I picked up a wrought iron pedestal and a set of wooden steps in the street. What people throw out? Nothing like a disposable society, hey? Unsatisfiable wants? And we think we are going to survive as a species? Still, don't know how we are not the hoarder house in the street? The pedestal and the steps got heavier and heavier in exact proportion to the dogs increased sniffing of just about everything with which they came in contact.

We washed the dogs, so they smell like flowers now. Sam's repeated suggestions/requests/demands finally wore me down. 

“Okay, fine, let’s do it.”

Sam won’t give up, otherwise.

It is a good thing Buddy and Bruno don’t mind the shower. Bud will get straight in. Bruno will hesitate halfway into the bathroom, but he will get in eventually. I have to stop Buddy getting in, as we wash Bruno first, always Bruno first, as Buddy is much calmer about the whole procedure.

We use a mountain of towels, all the beach towels we don’t use for the beach.

The promised rain finally fell, but just for half an hour, or so, not the three days of life threatening deluge, (most likely with a bit of thunderstorm asthma thrown in, you know, just for the ratings) as reported breathlessly by the weather reporter. Keep them scared, it will keep them watching.

Doing Nothing

We've really been doing nothing at all. Sam has been giving me looks like I am the worst person, as he believes I am the main instigator of the nothingness. Moi? Okay, maybe it is me, the laziest bastard in the world. Well, it’s ‘olidays in the middle of a pandemic, idn’t it.

The rain storms never eventuated. Damaging rainstorms for 3 days, said the news weather reporter breathlessly, barely able to hide her WAP orgasmic-ratings-boost at the thought. Nah. Didn't happen. It didn’t even drizzle.

It is true, the less you do, the less you want to do. I got a complete attack of the lazies in the afternoon when Sam wanted to take the dogs for a walk.

"I'm just not feeling it," I said.

I get the you-are-the-worst-person-in-the-world look again. He doesn't necessarily say much, but those eyes, he can't disguise those, apparently.

Sam took Bruno for a walk, with the parting words to Buddy, "If you want to know why you aren't coming too?" Sam looked at me, then looked back at Bud, and did an acknowledging head tilt and eyebrow raise. Buddy looked at me as though he understood. (Ha ha, fags and their dogs!)

Bulldogs really do need to go for a walk every day, for their mental health. People mistake their chilled demeanour for laziness, which isn't really the case at all.

Bud and I hung out on the couch watching the teev. 

Shopping, Pork Rolls, and Pot Plants

We went out for lunch, but I got omicron-cold-feet at the crucial moment, much to Sam’s chagrin, and said I didn't want to stay out and eat indoors with the people. (Seriously, how many infections were there this week?)

(I’m wearing a mask when I’m out now)

So, we went shopping for groceries. And we bought pork rolls to take home.

As I am waiting out the front of the pork roll shop while Sam buys them, a chick is asking for change. 

“Do you have any change, please?” Sweet and breezy. “Do you have any change, please?”

It’s annoying if you are waiting nearby, the repeated request to everyone who passes by, but for her, her next meal may depend on it. So, I try not to be annoyed.

A middle aged man, who looked like he came from North Balwyn, snarkily tells the “you got any spare change” girl to get a job after she asks him for change. I felt my hackles rise and I nearly told him to give it a rest, but didn’t. And then I kicked myself for not telling him.

In the afternoon, I re-potted two of my larger pot plants, a Fiddle Leave Fig and an umbrella tree, into new 50 centimetre pots, which I risked Bunnings to get. Even I have to turn YouTube off occasionally.

I got up on the roof with my silicon gun and had a go at sealing the leaking roof, which I have just been staring at when it has rained lately, seemingly, incapable of thinking of it unless it was raining. So, yay me. No rain forecast for 24 hours, but then a lot of it was predicted. So, yay me again.

Top 20 movies

David and I complied our top 20 favourite movies of all time.

This is mine

Dangerous Liaisons – Glen Close John Malkovich

The Effects Of Gamma Rays On Man In The Moon Marigolds – Joanna Woodward

All About Eve – Bette Davis

Thelma & Louise – one of the few films made me cry at the end

Dual – Steven Spielberg – unsettled dad and I out when we first watched it together

Border Town – Bette Davis

Capote – Phillip Seymour Hofman

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner – Katherine Hepburn

The Man Who Came To Dinner – Bette Davis

The Ritz – Rita Moreno

The Rose – Bette Midler

The Anniversary – Bette Davie

The Italian Job – Michael Caine 1965 version

Little Shop of Horrors – the 1986 Rick Moranis version

Marked Woman – Bette Davis

Now Voyager – Bette Davis

Tootsie – Dustin Hoffman.

Witness – Harrison Ford

Long Time Companion – the only film that has caused me to lose my shit in public

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane – Bette Davis

Honorable mentions

The Colour Purple

The Devil Wears Prada

Sybil

This is David's

1.      Erin Brockovich

2.      Schindlers list 

3.      The Sound of Music  

4.      Devil wears Prada 

5.      Titanic

6.      A Star is Born (Gaga Version) 

7.      Witness for the Prosecution (Agatha Christie) 

8.      The Reader

9.      The Note Book 😂😂😂

10.    Grease

11.    Longtime companion 

12.    Murder on the Orient Express ‘74

13.    Death on the Nile 

14.    Sybil

15.    Whatever happened to baby jane 

16.    Psycho

17.    Towering inferno 

18.    Silence of the Lambs

19.    To Kill a Mockingbird 

20.    The Colour Purple

Honourable mentions

Oh and I love the two Sex and the City Movies

Sam like action super hero movies and animated movies like Kung Foo Panda.

Free & Easy

Second day of the year, and it is public holiday quiet out on the streets and I love it. It is so peaceful and restful, so calm and easy to get anywhere out there. 

Sam has had a shopping fail, listen to me, do you like that? Well, he is the designated shopper, after all. Unusual for him, I might just add at this point before you all think I am some kind of monster. J (Truthfully, I just have to say, we need blah blah, and the next time I go to the cupboard the blah blah has been restocked, he is that good) So, I jest, of course, but it still means I have to go to Coles and get milk for my porridge. (Of course, Sam piles on the shopping list quick as a flash, one of the downsides to us having a joint list)

It is hot and muggy and overcast and still, there doesn’t seem to be one single movement happening when I step out on to our street closing the wrought iron gate behind me.

There is the 21 year old boy next door’s car (whose looks have been transformed by a haircut, you’d give him a second look now, where before [image of Joan River’s poking out her tongue in the negative), and my neighbour over the road’s car (her house was originally built as a brothel, my street was once the red light district run by Squizzy Taylor) and then my car, and then the rest of the street for at least 10 car lengths is empty, very unusual, just the residents are home. The crazy man 5 houses along, his car is across the road. He used to yell out for me to stop chopping wood in winter wishing my house would burn down if I didn’t, until I confronted him in the street one day and ever since he has been my best friend. Ug. The cute straight boy’s Landcruiser is also across the road. It makes a change from the tourists jostling for parking space on a usual day.

I’m listening to Joe Cocker, Honky Tonk Women.

Smith Street is practically deserted. It is lovely really.

 

The boys in Coles are all in shorts, thanks to the weather. I follow one guy in small black shorts with the most gorgeous hairy legs. Well, when I say follow, I am not following him deliberately, but he just happens to be walking in front of me as I head to the milk isle. He bends over in front of me at the yogurt for some Greek style and I so have the urge to slide my hand right up the back of his legs to his… oh, could you imagine? I chuckle to myself. He is much quicker grabbing his tub of the best natural and has spun around and is facing me, just as I am imagining how the backs of his hairy thighs would feel, and our eyes meet and lock momentarily, just as I am imagining his arse in the palm of my hand, and we have one of those uncomfortable two steps where we both try to step out of the other person’s way but actually step in the same direction and, er.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Should we dance, I want to say, but don’t, of course.

 

I buy my first packet of hot cross buns for the year. (January 2nd? I don't care, as I like hot cross buns) In fact, I think it's good. They should be called what they really mean to people these festive dates, Easter, The Yearly Chocolate and Baked Good Festival, and the Xmas, the Yearly Present Giving Festival. Let's face it they don't mean much else to 95% of the population, if we were all honest.

I had a friend ask me recently, "Which one was the birth and which one was the death?"

"Does it really matter?" was my reply. “Born at Easter, died at Xmas” He seemed happy with that. Oh, I couldn’t resist.

(Always reminds me of my first year at uni when our first semester results were pinned to the noticeboard and the guy next to me said, all dejected, “Oh I really thought I did well. An HD, I don’t believe it.”

“Oh, never mind,” I said, without missing a beat. “I’m sure you’ll be able to do it again.”

Seriously, if you don’t know what a high distinction is, I’m not telling you.

Never cracked it for an HD, myself. I got a number of distinctions, but never an HD.)

And anyway, if you know your history, they were pagan dates appropriated by the Christians to smash the pagan market share way back when paganism was the dominant belief structure.

But I digress...

I buy strawberries and blueberries I think as some sort of health smoke screen to compensate for the fatty baked goods.

Anyway, now it is cleaning day, it is Sunday, of course. My boy is a stickler for, now what would I call it, routine? Schedules? (authoritarianism, despotery? Ha ha, I jest again. I’m a lazy cunt, so someone has to push me.)

“But it is the holidays?” I say, trying it on.

“The house still needs to be cleaned on the holidays,” he says totally unconvinced.

 

We really have done very little these holidays, other than lie about on our couches, in front of fans for the last three days. It’s been too hot to do anything, for the last few days anyway. We should have gone away, but there is omicron. The beach would have been nice. This would be great beach weather. Covid has kind of spoilt everything.

A couple of friends have suggested dropping by, but I have discouraged them. What am I like? It will be my own fault when I am old and friendless, but I really just like hanging out with Sam. The lockdowns have not been good for me, for the complete opposite reason to everyone else, I just like them too much.

2022 – Day 1

The first thing I see when I get up is a news alert on my phone saying that Betty White has died 17 days short of her one hundredth birthday. I wonder if that is a good omen for 2022.

I wouldn’t tell Sam, about Betty White, as his response would be, “Betty who?” or “Care factor zero.” He doesn’t care about such things.

The day is already hot, early. 30 degrees. The house is still hot from yesterday. I go and water my pot plants and the garden. There is something therapeutic about watering in anticipation of a hot day. 38 is expected today.

Sam gets up some time later, and the first words out of his mouth, as he stands bleary-eyed in the lounge room door way pulling his boxers out of his arse, "What happened to 2021, I have no fucking clue."

Me neither. Woosh! No fucken idea. They just keep rolling away. The years.

We’re drinking coffee and Sam tells me Betty White has died. I'm impressed. Perhaps, this year is going to be different after all, I think.