From all accounts, the Liberal Govt succeeded in destroying Medicare.
Well done 10 years of successive Liberal Govts and universal health care for everyone is all but gone.
(For overseas readers, The Liberal Party in Australia is the conservative party)
Conservative governments, what are they like? The shit they go on with? Seriously? They are even still selling trickle down economics as a thing.
David came to stay for 3 days, at the end of his summer in Melbourne, before he heads back north. He's finished his new age guru shit, and the sycophants are happy, from all accounts. Preaching to the converted and all that, how hard can it be? He's now planning for next years summer time guru festival, roughly translated as the money making machine
Then he sits around at our place feeding her fat face like Jabba The Hut with every chocolate product known to man, drinking triple shot coffees. Then he is washing pain medication down constantly with any number of bottles of chardonnay. Oh yes, New Age spirituality, indeed. All the while he is telling me that he usually practises intermittent fasting, its just that we don't get to see it. The only thing I see him doing intermittently is sniffing up a nicotine spray, curiously, since he hasn't smoked since we were pups together on the party scene.
"If you have finished everything, why aren't you getting on a plane and going home?" I ask.
"Shut up," he says. "Aren't I allowed a little downtime before I have to pack everything up for the trip home. I've worked my fingers to the bone."
"Luv, you have worked 3 weekends."
"And I am exhausted."
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| I always gravitate to the other side of things. I wouldn't go as far as saying the back entrance, but long time readers... |
I've always bitten the skin off from around my fingernails, without any problems, but now I keep getting these infections down the side of my finger nails. ☹️ I've almost stopped biting the skin because of the infections.
I have been battling one of these for the last few days. Oh, I forgot myself and before I knew it, I'd absentmindedly chewed off a chunk of skin. Damn! I thought as I realised.
Stupid me.
My infected finger hasn't come good even after liberal applications of Betadine, tea tree oil, and pawpaw cream for the past few days, or so.
So, I am now soaking it in hot salty water to draw out the puss/infection. It will come up as a pussy blister when it is done. Probably when I wake up in the morning. Lovely, I know.
So, I have parked myself in front of YouTube while this process proceeds.
If its not one thing, it is another, at the moment. Pills, buzzing feet, pathology.
I contented myself with some of the world's greatest singers giving Aretha Franklin's song Ain't No Way a crack.
If you banned Cancel Culture, what would brain rot morning radio and television have to discuss on their respective misery hours?
I am forced to listen to brain rot radio as I wait in the waiting room at (name of suburb) pathology.
Karl Stefanovic and his co-host were yabbering on about a mindbogglingly inane topic. It is just a word salad about nothing.
No wonder the world is in the state it is in. (Ha ha, do you like that? Straight out of their playbook. See, I did learn something from listening to them babbling on)
To quote one of the great thinkers of our time, Patsy Stone, if you could bottle morning television, it would plunge Swiss pharmaceutical companies into a world wide recession.
If our national day to celebrate who we are doesn't include every Australian, then change it.
If every Australian, irrespective of what some may think, doesn't feel included in the current date, then chose another date.
I really don't care what date we celebrate Australia day on. It really isn't one of the most important things in life.
But, here's the thing, what date would allow everyone to feel included?
Why don't we make it the last Monday, or the last Friday, in January?
I took my first elevated blood sugar tablet tonight with dinner. I was kind of excited to do so. I am hoping the buzzing feet, which sometimes becomes more than buzzing feet will now stop.
10pm. I went to bed. And not that I want to talk too soon, my buzzing feet, which I have had for quite some time, seem to have stopped buzzing. Yay.
The benefits are long term. I can't have elevated sugar levels for the rest of my life. It's not good.
It didn't ask the doctor if that meant I didn't have to be so careful with my diet any longer, I'm just going to assume that is the case. 😬 Surely? You have to have a win sometimes?
I text Boris early. "I'm working from home today." Yeah, sure it is all a part of my not wanting to conform to my work's back to the office regime. Fuck them!
But, I also have an ulterior motive too. Last Thursday, I had my annual blood test, which was kind of late, because I kind of knew what it was going to say.
Fat doctor Mathew messaged me Friday saying I was to book a double appointment immediately to discuss my blood tests. A double appointment, immediately, I suspected he was some what of a drama queen when we had our consultation.
Remembering, he hadn't seen me before, so, you know, perhaps her drama was justified? Doctor, doctor, doctor! and all that.
I called right on my clinic's opening time grab one of the cancelled appointments - there is always cancelled appointments - with my normal doctor, which I did. If you make a normal appointment it can take weeks to get in. Today...
"10.30am?"
"I'll take it."
So everything was good, except for my recalcitrant sugar levels, which were bad. And he has put me on tablets, which I suspected he would. All done with in the time frame of a single appointment.
(Calm down fat Mathew, it will all be fine)
I have had buzzing feet for the longest, I am hoping that will stop with the pills.
It all makes kind of sense. Our bodies lose the ability to match insulin production with sugar levels, so the insulin production goes into an overdrive situation. (I hope I haven't bastardised this explanation too much?) The pills helps the body to recognise um, er, sugar levels, or inulin production, or something. I swear I listened to the explanation.
Anyway, hopefully the buzzing feet will stop.
Eating porridge and drinking coffee, my new MacBook Pro is noticeably faster than my old one. And I don't think I care about such things, but, maybe, I do. There's a thing.
It is also great to be rid of the dud butterfly keyboard. Yay, a good keyboard finally. I can't tell you how much of a relief that is. I guess, unless you have had the utter misfortune of being lumbered with an Apple butterfly keyboard, you wouldn't understand.
Sam set it all up for me yesterday. It took all day. Its great that he does all the setup, as there are lots of things to do with a new laptop. I could do it, I'm sure, but it would take longer.
 |
| Its new MacBook time |
I got my new MacBook Pro today. You might ask why I bought a new one when I had so much trouble with the current one. It is the dud 2016/2017 model, the model about which Apple should be ashamed, and the one Apple should be replacing, it was such a piece of shit.
Mine has had 4 keyboards (under warranty) and a replacement screen. (I had to pay for it, and I still want a refund for that repair as it is a known fault but only recognised on the 13 inch. There was a class action in America, which, if I am right, was unsuccessful, but it still goes to show how many computers there were with this fault) It cost me a lot of money. It really hasn't been what you'd call a premium machine.
My previous MacBook Pro to the current one, gave me no problems.
And, I tell you, the new one had better not fuck up on me, otherwise, I can tell you, there will be no fourth MacBook Pro.
It has taken all day to transfer my data onto it.
I go for a blood test early. It's an annual thing, cholesterol, prostate cancer, blood sugar, liver function, signs of life. Fasting blood tests are always best done first thing in the morning, I find, just get them over and done with. It makes sense.
When I get there right on opening time, I'm third in line. First in line is already in the chair, naturally. Second in line, is a 30 something in tight shorts with good legs who acknowledges my existence in absolutely no way. I don't have to wait long, it's just a couple of vials each.
I go to the police station afterwards, wondering if visiting the police station is a good idea when I might be 'hangry' even as I walk in? But no, it was fine. I see a female police office, she seems nice. She takes my details. When she comes back, she implies, deliberately, or not, that Mr Handsome may not have, even, finished writing up my report. I presume this was the reason I hadn't heard anything further.
Oh well, good thing I checked, she's following it up. And somebody will be in touch with me shortly.
Shrug.
I come home and eat porridge with banana and honey, and drink coffee. The coffee tastes extra good, having had to wait for it. But I am a caffeine addict, I admit it.
The clueless HR moron eventually sends me everything she has, and by the sheer volume of documentation with which she has inundated me, I can identify the discrepancy in her figures that I assume she suspects she has, although I believe she is not any the wiser as she continues to point to one part of the figures and documentation when the discrepancy is in an entirely different part and set of figures.
If you throw enough pairs of soiled knickers against a wall, eventually some have to stick.
I so don’t want to tell her, er, I think. So, I put it aside, as it pleases me to do so. I so don’t want to give her the answer she wants, when she has continued to remain clueless as to what it is.
But, Boris calls to ask where I am up to on it? Where I am up to, I think. WTF? The Perth idiot had been cc’ing Boris into all the emails. And Boris doesn’t want to get stuck with all of her nonsense when I finish up for the week this afternoon.
Grrr!
So, I email the Perth moron with the results, so against every cell in my body.
Still, I am working from home, so what do I really care. Let's face it, everything is bearable when you are working from home.
Of course, I hear nothing from the HR chick in Perth, in gratitude, the sense of entitlement is strong amongst HR staff.
I had to deal with the clueless HR chick in Perth. Wow!
Is she annoying, or what? Do you reckon she knows she is annoying, or is she clueless about that too?
She is relentlessly pursing an issue that doesn't exist. I get the feeling she has a problem, but she doesn't, actually, know where it is, or how to fix it, so she is sending endless financial details at me all day, presumably, hoping that I would identify the issue for her. I guess. I don’t really have a clue what she is doing.
"There is nothing wrong with the figures you are sending me," I continually reply to her.
Any way who cares about her, she will always be a fuckwhit,
(Update, surprise, surprise she barely lasted more than 12 months)
Sometime after midday, Sam says, "Renee Geyer dies at 69."
"What?" I say. I am really shocked. It takes me by surprised. I am surprised.
I'm feeling instantly sad with her death, she has been one of my favourite singers for the longest time, since I was a kid. She is, was, one of the greats. One of the very best.
I start playing her music. I have all of her albums, except for the last one, you know, streaming services will do that.
I've seen her live a couple of times and she was always fantastic.
Back in the salt mines. Sad face.
It is just a Monday. Does anybody like Mondays? Not that I hate them, but I like them less having to go into the office.
Get into the office by 6.45am, nobody is in at that time. I like it, the office all to myself. It is dark and all the lights bang on with the sensors with every step that I take. I'm sure there is some music that could go with that. Haha.
The Chief gets in at 7.30am. We chat. He's a chatter. He likes a chat.
Junior Chief arrive sometime after 8am. Tall and blonde, cute to look at. And a nice guy.
Everyone I work with are nice, super nice, except for HR who are just awful, which kind of highlights the difference quite sharply.
Everyone else start to arrive 8.30am onwards.
Boris is never in until after 9am.
We walked down the Yarra with Bruno. It was much cooler today.
He's not one for showing enthusiasm for walks, but car rides, he loves them.
We go late morning. There are no car spots where we like to park, just near the bridge, so I drop them off. I park back on the main street outside the Salvos. Sam and Bruno have already crossed the bridge and have headed up the track by the time I catch up to them.
It is a nice day, much cooler to yesterday, but the sky is blue and the sunshine dappled along the river.
A couple comes walking towards us, she is carrying a small white fluffy dog.
Bruno jumps up on a lady and scratches her leg when he is trying to look at the white fluffy dog she is carrying.
She leans down and rubs it, wincing. We apologise. She shrugs it off and keeps walking.
Sam tut tutts when I say that I should have said, “You see luv, if you let your dog walk like a fucken dog rather than carrying it like a fucken handbag, Bruno would never have jumped up.”
We did some grocery shopping.
It is a very mild, cool day. I have on jeans but I could easily have worn shorts. I sit on the ground with Bruno outside the shops while Sam does the shopping. There are plenty of strapping guys in shorts heading into the shops. And the angle from where I am sitting... all those beefy butts.
There are many people with dogs walking past. Lots of people comment on how cute Bruno is.
I make an apple cake. It sinks in the middle dramatically. I forgot with this recipe I just need to put the apple pieces around the outside on the top, then they sink down evenly.
The rest of the weekend drifts away into a soft finish.
We wash Bruno, on the day predicted to be 37 degree day. What else is there to do? No, I ask you?
So, then it was time to just laze about. You know, close up the house and move about as little as possible.
We were on our devices laying low.
In the afternoon, the doorbell rings. There is a guy and girl at my door when I open it. He asks, “Is that your car out the front.
“Yes,” I say.
“We just saw someone back into it and then drive away,” he says.
This is the second time someone has backed into my car in the last 2 weeks and just driven away. The first time was New Years Eve. I shouldn't leave it out the front. I should park it in my back yard. It is just laziness. But, in all the time I have lived here, I have never had a car damaged, and now twice in a short time.
They come out and look at the damage with me, and while the car isn't badly damaged, it is still damaged.
So, a short time later, I head around to the police station to report the damage. It is hot. I am sweating.
Out comes a gorgeous blond policeman to help me. How handsome are you, I think. No really, it was distracting how good looking he was. (You would definitely want to see him in his undies) He takes my details and then goes to look up the driver. While I am waiting for him to find the other driver's details, a gorgeous dark haired policeman comes in the door with his lunch. (kind of Italian looking) I’d like to see the two of them go at it, is my next thought.
Then two more handsome policemen come into the building seemingly returning from a job somewhere. (I think the dark blue uniforms are really flattering. I know I am an arse man, but seriously watching those coppers walk away from me...)
The gorgeous blond cop is going to send me a report by email. And I’ll send back photos of the car.
I don't know how people get the bath mat so wet. The bath mat was saturated when I went and had a shower.
You have a shower. You grab a towel and dry yourself. When you are quite dry, semi dry, you step out of the shower onto the bath mat, which remains relatively dry through out.
What do people do? I ask you?
Bruno and I sit on the couch. Sam is in the other room working. I've been reading the news. Bruno is licking bits of him and me. When he is not licking, he pushes his furry arse into my side trying to claim more space on the couch.
David is still asleep. She doesn't get up and piss before midday. I guess that is one of the byproducts of working your own hours for many years.
Tim is off exploring Melbourne with his housemate. Tim is up at day break.
It is quiet, just the sound of running water from the pond beyond the back door. There is a cool breeze blowing in.
I'm trying to get some writing done. My mind hasn't been in it lately so I am struggling a bit.
Must be time to watch YouTube. 😬
David is back for the night. He's been guru'ing his sycophant power base and now he is back, all the disciple meetings done for the time being, before he heads off down the beach with one of his sycophants.
David is in Melbourne until the end of the month.
I pissed around with music all day. Pissed my life away? I wouldn't say that, but having said that what else are days off for? No, seriously. Piss them away to your heart's content, you've worked hard, no doubt.
We have a semi permanent house guest, my friend Tasmanian Tim who is in Melbourne looking for a place to buy because he likes Melbourne and wants to live here for a while. And he had his housemate here from Tassy, so the house is full of guys. They are exploring Melbourne and are heading off to see Elton John.
The Rolling stones are doing a world tour this year starting in the northern hemisphere summer, and I'd love to go, but Mick Jagger will be 80 years old by then. So, I don't know, I'd hate to be disappointed.
I've seen Elton John twice and they were two of the best concerts I have ever seen, but he's getting on too. I hope he is good.
Wednesday. Hot day. Shorts and bare feet all day. It was the kind of heat where the shadows become something precious. Just pull back from the sun's rays, just like that.
We ate chicken teriyaki for lunch after which I broke out a fan.
I worked in the morning and watched YouTube in the afternoon, lying on the couch, that was how busy I was. It was a lovely day.
I like days like these, working, or not.
I'm sure it is a sign of my efficiency, I get everything assigned to me done, quite easily. No one really asks me if I need more work, I don't really ask for any. Boris can stump up more for me to do, if she wants to, that is her job after all. I'm her staff. She is my manager.
I, actually, find I have an infinite capacity for extra work, if I need to.
Should I be asking for more to do? No. Some down time is good for all of us.
What is wrong with watching YouTube when I have all of my work done, I ask you? Nothing, is the answer. Workers don't have to be slaves 100% of the time.
Last day of the week for me. And my weekend starts.
Bloody hell, I did fuck all, all day.
It was a gorgeous day, just made for doing fuck all.
Lovely.
I had everything done mid morning. Then I had lunch. Then I had time for a snooze on the couch. Why would I ever want to go back to the office.
I started early. I got all my work done. That's all that should matter. Surely.
That's why they want you back in the office, I hear you say. No, not really, same amount of work, same amount of supervision. Nobody checks up on me, generally, no.
Why do they want us back in the office? Do you think the execs feel their power base slipping? You can't let the workers have what they want, there is no telling where that might lead?
(It is the same reason why people mindlessly vote conservative year after year, they don't want anything to change, as there is fear involved with that)
I messaged Boris early to say I wouldn't be in the office today. I didn't bother mentioning the Covid exposure thing, as I didn't want to be appearing to be justifying my absence.
Let's face it, I didn't put up a strong enough argument, however many months ago it was, for working from home permanently. I just caved and headed back into the office like a good boy when I was told. This was a late argument against that.
Boris messaged back, okay.
Oh, I don't really want to resign over this, I just want to continue working from home, it is so much better than going into the office. You know, today I am in shorts and a t-shirt with bare feet. It's great.
I whinged to Jill about having to go back to the office one day per week. She replied, "Don't you have money in superannuation?"
"Yes, sure."
"Well, the big superannuation companies own all those high rise buildings in the city..."
"Yes, I know."
"Well, don't you want your superannuation to do well?"
Sometimes I forget that Jill, is a right winger. And often it is a surprise all over again when she trots out right wing garbage.
I managed to resist saying, Oh, fuck off to her. "Are you serious?" I said. "Of course you are serious."
"Well?"
"Wow. The workers have found a new way of working, and, again, big business wants to piss all over them in the name of profits. There is more to life, Jill? Seriously."
"Well, you can't have both..."
"Only a deluded Fox News watcher would come out with that," I said. "You can have both, of course you can have both."
David went off to do his guru shit. We'll see him in a week, when he has serviced his sycophants who finance his life style. He only works bi-monthly, good work if you can get it.
Sam and I lay on a couch each and gazed at our screens all day.
Bruno lay prostrate on the floor, occasionally licking my feet. He has a fetish for licking my feet. If I was honest, I like it. Not sure how good it is for him?
It was hot.
I'm still contemplating using the covid scare as an excuse not to go into the office. I'll see how I feel in the morning.
We went out with the guy's last night, lovely Tom Vonage and his gorgeous boyfriend Matt, Fat Freddy who arrived in a bright orange, skin tight t-shirt which made him look like a swollen tangerine, David, Sam and I.
We always get together when David is in town.
We had to tell them about the covid scare, twice removed when we go there and we all sort of stepped back from one another as a result.
We sat on high stools at a high table and drank margaritas and ate Mexican food.
We’re all partnered up, even if Freddy never brings his boyfriend. David craves a partner but never seems to crack it for one. He likes asking us couple questions, it's kind of a vicarious situation, I think. You know, after he's had a few margaritas, I guess it is a bit sad, in a sense, if I think about it. We're all used to it, though. We laugh. He slurs.
We all hugged when we were saying good bye, the sentiment being it was unlikely we were going to catch covid anyway, twice removed. Not sure that is true.
David insisted we buy ice creams when the 3 of us were walking home, of course David did.
We watched Bad Samaritan, with David Tennent when we got home, it was the latest movie David had on repeat viewing at the minute. He watches things over and over when he likes them. It was an okay movie, it defied the time continuum several times, particularly at the end, but if you could over look that, it was pretty good. It was a thriller.
Jill called to say that her cruise buddy Jane had tested positive for covid. In fact, Jane had tested positive on the boast but hadn’t told anyone because she didn’t want to be consigned to her cabin on the cruise. She had mingled with the other guests on the cruise, she had shared a car home with Jill yesterday morning all without wearing a mask when she knew she had Covid. Really, some people?
"I hope the selfish bitch ends up in ICU on a ventilator, if I get it," I say.
"Well," says Jill at my sudden outburst.
"Oh, I don't mean that..."
"She is pretty sick at home," says Jill.
"Well, there you go," I say, not really trying to hide my... um, what would I call it? Schadenfreude.
Jill had taken a test this morning which was negative. "I'll keep you posted if there are any developments," said Jill.
You know, David is coming tomorrow. He's come down to work over the next few days. I was guessing I had to tell him?
Seriously, selfish people. What goes through some people's minds?
Jill arrived to pick up the dogs.
I made her a cup of tea, and she got settled on the couch, lay back with her feet up, and wasn't in any hurry to leave, which was fine with me, it was nice to see her.
She's been on a cruise with unlimited food for 2 weeks and she visibly had trouble getting up off a couch, when it was time to head out for a meal. I watched as she struggled, it was kind of eye opening. I felt every gasp, every groan, every wince, and finally she was up. And I exhaled, let out the breath I didn't even realise I was holding in until that moment.
We went out for Japanese.
We sat opposite a couple of beefy gay boys enthusing about the food. Actually, just one was enthusing about the food, the cute/chubby one with the nice voice, smile and way about him.
We ate karaage chicken for entre, 2 serves, we weren’t exactly sure of the portion size, well that is how Jill justified it. We all eat too much.
Jill ate tempura. Sam ate sober noodles. I ate vegan mushroom soba noodles, which, I have to say, need a good handful of salt thrown in.
We all ate Matcha ice cream for dessert, Jill insisted.
Smith Street was really busy, lots of people sitting outside eating. All the tourists.
We came home and drank tea and talked American politics. We talked about how awful Meaghan the whatever of Sussex is.
"I’m certainly not going to tell any filthy jokes. I don’t like filthy jokes. People have this idea that I’m a walking cesspit. I think it’s quite unfair. I take great care in the words I use and when I use swear words, I mean to use them. I don’t like a loose use of filth. I like a precise use of filth," says Miriam Margolyes. "I talk about sex a lot. But it’s only because I don’t really have sex any more. I just like to remember it and talk about it. I think it would be nice if you mentioned that it was pleasant to talk to me, because a lot of people seem to think that I’m a hateful old hag, and I think that’s completely unfair. I think that I’m not quite like other people, but I do love humanity. I hope I’ll be remembered as a talented eccentric: a mouthy old bag with a heart of gold."
I think Miriam Margolyes is one of the few interesting people in the world today. I love her stories, in fact, I love everything about her.
Jill called early to say she was back from her cruise.
She said she'd come and get Bear to Billie tomorrow. Not sure why she wasn't coming to get them until tomorrow?
Sam and I discussed how when we came back from overseas once around midnight and how we drove an hour to the country to get Buddy, getting back home at something like 3am.
Buddy stank, he'd been on the farm for weeks.
Sam told Bear and Billie that their mum no longer loved them, for most of the day. There seemed to be no other explanation for it.
When will Prince Harry’s seemingly never ending tantrum stop, you have to ask?
I just see him as a spoilt rich kind with enormous advantage and wealth being incredibly disloyal to his family.
And Meaghan? Well, she really is a nobody, isn’t she. She seems to be milking her 15 minutes for all its worth. Seriously.
Spare. (more like Spoilt) That’s what we’re all going to go if we have to continue listening to their continual whinging. They only have one story, how many times can they tell it? People were mean to you, we know, we’ve heard it already. You were born second, yes, boo hoo. (On the bright side, not spare any more, with George, Charlotte and Louis. Oh, er, does that mean you are now completely irrelevant, Harry?)
I’m just not sure why we all have to care? Well, continue to care? Harry just seems to appear more and more boring with every new, read repeated, utterance coming from his mouth. And her? Remind me, who is she again?
And I don't care, no, really, I don't. I don't think they are very interesting, but it seems to be in every online news I look at now, so they are hard to avoid.
I'm not sure what that says? You know, for a smart dog? I guess people prove they are the same every day of the week.
Some bastard backed into the side of my car New Year's Eve night. No note, of course not, just a crease right between the front and back door. The car was previously blemish free.
Yay.
I saw it when we were in Ballarat New Year’s Day. We took Charlie for a drive to see Victoria. It was a hot day. Bruno came with us, the corgis stayed at home. It was too hot to have 3 dogs in the back with Charlie.
We stopped at some famous bakery in Ballarat, one of the few places that was open, most of Ballarat was closed. I had, quite possibly, the worst meal I've had in the longest time. It was called the Big Breakfast, and when it arrived it was like some sort of overcooked roll/burger. It was really awful, almost inedible.
We came home via Hepburn Springs, loading up on mineral water. Charlie didn't like it. I love it. If I lived close by, I’d go and get bottles of it every day.
Charlie went into the city on his own to watch the fireworks. He didn't want to hang out with us.
We watched an English spy show on Netflix called Treason. I picked it because it sounded interesting. It didn't hurt that the main character was handsome. Charlie Cox, apparently, he plays some DC comics character, but as I am not the super hero type, I don't know him as that. 5 episodes. It was good. We watched all the episodes. I kind of like binge watching things.
Bear barked, which made Bruno Bark, so of course Billie barked, and they were all suddenly barking at the first children's fireworks, until we put on Michael Jackson, Want To Be Starting Something. We put it on again at midnight. The midnight fireworks seemed to only go for a lousy 8 minutes, perhaps 2 songs, about which I am not complaining, thinking of the whole environmental issue thing.
Later on they said it was the greatest fireworks ever, which I really doubted.
We went to bed at 1am.
Happy New Year.
