Princess Pandora - Queen of Denial MeMe

A bit like Panda, I'm in between contracts, I have plenty of time to write, but little to talk about. You know, the more you do the more your do and the less you do the less you do.

So here goes. Apparently, this Meme was stolen from the legendary "Sunday Stealing", king of the useless questions (whoever that is), by Panda.

1. Which TV character do you think you are most like?

Aby and Josh used to say I was just like Bernard from Black Books. Other people have agreed when it has been suggested.

2) What time do you go to bed?

Early in winter, I love my bed. 6pm some nights, some cold nights.

3) What was the last meal you made from scratch?

Sunday, Saturday, Friday, chorizo sausage pasta, risotto, chicken soup, respectively.

4) What is your favourite type of music?

R and B, soul, Rolling Stones, black chicks

5) In what position do you sleep?

On my back.

6) What is your first memory?

I’m not sure I have one. The smell of cigarettes in my dad’s car. Playing in the built-in furniture in my sister’s bedroom.

7) What is your least favourite smell?

Mould, I can’t stand it, it makes me gag and not in a good way. I have to run, escape in desperation, before I bring up my last meal, which usually balances precariously on the back of my tongue.

8) It's your round at the pub and your friends asked you to surprise them. What drink would you buy and why?

I’m crap at that. What they asked for, or at least, what I reckon they’d ask for.

9) What was the last thing you read/watched that made you cry?

OMG! Just the other night, now what was it? Oh yes… is this embarrassing, Titanic.

10) They say that you learn something new every day. What was the last thing you have learned?

Today I learned that I shouldn’t go to the supermarket before I have eaten breakfast.

I came upon the bakery department and the pastries/donuts. On the top shelf there were fancy muffins, with things exploding out the top, chocolate things and cherries and chocolate cream and chocolate bars. I lifted one from the top shelf and it was heavy and some what top heavy and it over balanced in my grip and it fell down my arm and top first on to the floor. Splat!

I took it as a sign and picked it up and put it back on the shelf. They were kind of messy, fabulous creations and it looked okay sitting back there on the shelf. A sign that I shouldn’t have it. I knew I shouldn’t have it and I walked away.

It wasn’t until I was walking up Smith Street that I realised I had put it back on the shelf and that someone would buy it and eat it completely unaware that it had been on the floor.

I thought, I shouldn’t go to the supermarket before I had eaten as I just don’t think straight.

And that Paul Schafer from Dave Letterman’s show wrote It’s Raining Men

11) Which Literary love interests would you snog, marry and avoid?

Snog: Harry Potter, in his graduating year, you understand

Marry: Tom Ripley, a man of class and excitement

Avoid: Fagan

12) Paperback, Hardback or Kindle? Which of these is your favourite reading format and why?

Paperback – mainly because they just seem the easiest. Lightest, most bendy, best to drop, can just toss them onto the back seat of the car, literally.

14) If you could bring back any cancelled TV series for another run what would you pick and why?

Anyone of the 80’s soaps where you got to see the sexy boy’s in their underwear. There is nothing like a nice sausage wrapped in soft cotton.

15. Are you in a job that you truly enjoy?

No… oh, yes. I’m only working a few days per week, so yes, I love it.

Is it sustainable? No.

16. If you could do any job in the world what would it be?

I’d like to be a billionaire.

17. If you could be a character in a novel who would you be?

Tom Ripley, he smart, he’s classy, he’s exciting. Okay, the killing wouldn't be so great, but as he always said, he detested murder, unless of course, it was absolutely necessary.

18. When it comes to spending time with those you love, do you think it should be about quality or quantity?

As long as you spend time with them, get a tick in the box, who cares.

19. Is there a job/career you wanted but realised you couldn’t possibly do for one reason or another?

I’d love to have been an Architect, but my careers teacher, at my elite private school, told me I couldn’t because I was a business student. Hands in the air.

Pys Ed teacher in a boy’s school…

20. If you could live anywhere in the world or out of this world where would you live?

Right where I already live

21. Where would you most like to visit and with whom?

Spain/Portugal/Prague. Lots of Asian countries. With my lovely boyfriend.

22. Which skill would you like to learn?

Yeah, ride a motorbike with Panda. A couple of Triumphs,  reckon… across Asian. Lovely.

23. What made you laugh today?

David Letterman talking about North Korean, saying, “Kim Jong Ill’s son Kim Jong W. Ill…”

24. What are you looking forward to tomorrow?

My boyfriend’s birthday, and I am going to cook a quiche and a cake for him.

25. What is your sign and do you believe in horoscopes etc?

A Virgo. I can usually pick a Virgo. Do I believe in it? Um? I think it is interesting like a good story.

26. If you could change one thing about your life thus far, what would it be?

I’d change nearly everything professionally, work wise.

27. If there was one charity you could give a huge contribution to, which charity would it be and why?

Any charity that helps the poor.

28. Should smoking be legal?

I think marijuana should be legalised, so I cannot imagine what nonsense you are talking about with tobacco.

Sure it should be legal. What kind of question is that? They say you can smoke until 30 years old without any health problems, generally. And if you smoke passed 30 years of age, well, we’re not short of human beings, let's face it.

29. What are your views on the smoking ban in public places?

Stupid. I’m assuming you mean open, outside places. There is little evidence for passive smoking, especially out in open spaces, so it is no longer a health problem and is really just a wowser, dickhead problem.

30. Why do you blog?

I’ve always had a need to write, every since I was young. First I wrote poetry and then I wrote a journal. I’d probably be much better off if I didn’t write a blog, it is a distraction from real writing.

31. Do you have a favourite author?

I have a few. Christos Tsiolkas. Sam Sheppard. Raymond Chandler. Patricia Highsmith Tim Winton

32. Can you play any musical instruments?

I used to play the viola.

33. What would your ideal car be?

Porsche 911.

34. Describe yourself in one short sentence.

Cynical, lazy, smart, funny, rubbish.

35. Worst meal you’ve had?

I can normally eat anything. I’m not too fussy when it comes to food. I like cheap food and fine food.

Once a friend made me a Carbonara pasta sauce that he put a bag of onions into it, which was seriously inedible.

I Don't Work

Today was not going to be like yesterday, or the day before, the whole week really, who am I kidding, I promised myself when I got up. I couldn't just piss today way too, surely? As good as I am at that and all. But the whole week? It’s strange that when I really should be looking for a job, my temp work seems to have dried up, I slip back into my old ways of getting lost on the internet for days. The headlines segue into Tom and Katie’s marriage and before I know it, it is French Provincial houses and the late afternoon.

I turned on my laptop and made coffee and poured my muesli into a bowl and started to read the news… telling myself that I would only stay logged in for as long as it took me to have my breakfast.

Today was the day that my credit card and phone bill had to be paid, so I had no choice, I had to actually do things that were constructive. Around the 20th of the month always, except they seemed to be crawling back a day, I can only assume, because of my continual late payment. Once they all used to be due on 25th. The sneaky corporate world. So I had to break away from my computer addiction and tend to other matters.

I thought about my credit card. $200 to pay, still no balance being carried over from month to month, so at least there was that.

Qantas Rewards, really? I’ve never redeemed a reward from this credit card ever. I should swap back over to my old 55 days in cycle credit card, and at least get longer credit to use… and a substantially less annual fee. A few years ago I looked into it and discovered that the 50 thousand dollars that I had spent over the years amassing my 100 thousand points gave me approx… ah, er… $300 to spend in Myer. “Really, that’s it?” I remember saying to the operator on the other end, who no doubt tried to make a being deal out of what I was going to receive. You know, girle shiver, Christmas! They really are a con, rewards my arse. In exchange for 20 days less of free credit, it is ridiculous. There is no reason not to swap credit cards now, as both my credit cards are on zero.

I should swap over to my longer credit cycle credit card and pay all of my bills on that, instead of debiting my bank account, as that is now charged out as interest against my mortgage and is no longer the ridiculous interest earned.

My end of period for my old credit card in 29th of the month. Bugger! That’s inconvenient.

Is it a trap using my credit card?

Is it better to use cash out of my bank account?

What to do?

I wrote out a cheque for my credit card. I had to pay the (name of phone company) phone bill, my mobile and that pesky water bill that is a month over due, not that that is anyone’s fault but my own. I decided to pay them with the cash in my wallet from Shane’s rent, $200. That left me another $200 till next Friday. I can always take money out of the bank if I run out, effectively delaying a withdrawal indefinitely.

Get going out the door, it was after midday and all the office surfs would be heading out to lunch and filling the queues. When I got to the bank I was the third in line, with two tellers both with customers, one on crutches and one an Indian chap. All of us had black leather on, just as it turned out, the two guys in front of me, the fidgety one, and the cute guy not off his phone for more than a few minutes at a time, and the Indian and the cripple. The cute guy on his phone turned and eyed me when I came to stand behind him, but when the two pretty girls came to stand behind me he didn’t even twitch, much less turn around to look at them, my conclusion, of course, was that he was a big poof. The two customers at the tellers seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, however, I was more fascinated with the fact that everyone was dressed in black leather than how long any of them were taking. Clearly a sign of too much time on my hands?

We waited and the line grew and grew.

The girl on crutches just seemed to want to talk and the Indian guy seemed to have complicated paperwork, which seemed to need more and more attention. Finally, the girl on crutches hobbled away and the guy at the head of the line proceeded to the vacant teller nervous and fidgeting. He only seemed to want to do a simple withdrawal but he wouldn’t stop talking and second guessing the teller and they seemed to go backwards and forwards between him handing over his card and taking it back and being directed to use the key pad closest to him, talking over each other, all the time he seemed to be telling her his pin number at any chance he seemed to get. But soon enough he was thanking her and the bank in general, patting his pockets and holding his paperwork in the air in victorious success, as if he’d been awarded some prize, or had won some trophy..

The next guy announced to the teller that he wanted to do a fourteen thousand dollar withdrawal, as he approached her, loud enough for anyone, well, me to hear. He clearly wasn’t frightened about beng held up as he left the premises.

“Oh,” the teller said.

“I rang and organised it yesterday?”

“Oh,” the teller said.

A guy from out the back came out and asked if any one had a non-cash transaction and I said I did, but some how a credit card bill and a cheque to pay it didn’t count as anon-cash transaction. I didn’t question it, as I was at the front of the queue by then.

A fat wog guy three back complained that there was only one teller on and surely there were more staff?

It was pointed out to him that there were two tellers on.

“Oh, you can’t count him, they have been doing vhat ever they are dong for hours.” He continued to snort and huff and look around and snipe.

Then Mr Big Withdrawal was done.

“I’m sorry for the wait.”

“Oh, that’s okay, no problem.”

She laughed and apologised again.

“I don’t care I’m not in a hurry.”

“I think some people might be.”

“I’m not, I’ve got all day.”

“Lucky you.”

“I must get a job one of these days.”

She laughed again.

I kicked myself for not taking my camera down Smith Street to take photos of all the shops that are soon to be demolished because of the great Smith Street development that nobody really wants, which is just about to start. Fuck it! I had my phone this time and the sun was shining and I could take some photos until I remember to return with my camera to take proper shots. All but one of the shops are now vacant, just the doctor’s surgery to go. Most of the shops have been vacated recently and it is amazing to see that most of the windows are now covered in posters and signs of some sort.

I headed to the post office. I sent the latest notification from the tax department for my soon to be wound up self managed super fund to (accountant’s name) still with demands for the thousands of dollars in fines for late tax return lodgements, don’t ask, after I bought a book of twenty stamps out of mum’s account. Before I left the post office I bought a copy of The Rose also paid for out of mum’s money. Ten bucks, it wouldn’t be questioned.

I decided to take the last of my family negatives to the specialist photography shop in Carlton to get them put onto dvd while I had spare time to get them done, instead of thinking that I must get them done one day and never doing it. Who cares about the money, it can’t cost that much after all. These last twenty, or so, are of a larger black and white format which won’t fit in my slide scanned at home.

It was a lovely day for a walk to Carlton. I crossed Lygon Street and crossed the park. I contemplated asking Shane out for lunch in an attempt to change my mean ways and reconnect, but I wondered what we would talk about. I scanned to shops on the other side of the park and none of them seemed to be the photography shop any longer. I should have phoned, except I didn’t know the name. I probably hadn’t been there for ten years, so what did I expect?

Oh fuck it!

I headed to Killiney to eat Nasi Lemak. I ordered and asked if they had water. The cute man who owns it asked where Sam was.

“Oh, he is at work.”

“And you?”

“Oh, I don’t work.”

He smiled his pretty smile, which was a cross between surprise and admiration. I headed to my table with my newspaper. I guess it must be true that I like saying that. What is that, twice today? Yes, I believe it is.

I walked home feeling fat. Really fat. Maybe bloated. I wondered if it was the Metamucil I’ve been taking. I seem to remember giving it up the last time I took it for exactly that reason… feeling fat and tight and bloated. Hmmmm? My morning health drink – Metamucil, apple cider vinegar, Olive leaf extract, all washing down six fish oil tablets and a lysine – may have to be rethought.

I was going to watch The Rose and write my journal, but I settled on The Last Time I saw Paris, keeping The Rose to watch with Sam.

I had the chronic farts, as I sat in front of the fire and wrote my journal in the late afternoon. I don’t know what was going on with my insides… So, of course, I had to message Sam to tell him. He comes from a family where clearly there was no “pooh talk” not ever. And I come from a family where “pooh talk” was encouraged. And it is always amusing to watch, hear, him squirm.

“I stink!”

“You are disgusting.”

Shane has washed washing every night this week but hasn’t hung any out. I think he keeps washing the clothes and keeps forgetting to hang them out and rewashes them the next night. I think he has done this all week.

He tells me he is going to Sydney tomorrow and then he departs saying he is finally returning the vacuum to D. I spoke to D at least a month ago and he was asking then what had happened to his vacuum.

I haven’t told Shane that I got a vacuum from Jill last week, which is still in the back of my car. I took it when Jill offered it to me, despite being loathed to get involved. Shane was supposed to be looking after Guadalupe and all things Guadalupe, that was the deal for me to continue paying for her, when I suggested to Shane that I didn’t want her any more. Now, despite already having it, and despite it being a nice thing to do, I suspect that if I offer up the vacuum then I would have bought back into it and suddenly it will be me organising Guadalupe. That’s how it works, that’s how Shane works. It’s like having and AVO and inviting the person back into you house, it is all over bar the shouting.

I bet you the washing is still in the washing machine when Shane has left for Sydney. And as he seems to be back using my clothes horses, if he hangs it out it will mean that I won’t be able to do any washing all weekend. Yay!

Shane came home earlier than I expect, or he expected by his declaration before he left, with a bag of fish and chips. I assume D had different ideas to Shane. Shane gave me the definite impression that he wouldn’t be home until late, that clearly he’d be out for dinner. I reckon that D is pissed off about the vacuum. Shane doesn’t treat D well, and I don’t think he ever sees it.

Then he watched Big Bang Theory with me, with that annoying laugh he has, which sounds like he is continually gasping for breath. Like old aunt Maude getting a fright… continually. Or someone with Tourette’s. It’s annoying and I was pleased when he said he was going to pack.

I stayed up until late. Why not, I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow. I have no work. Actually, it is Sam’s birthday tomorrow and I am going to cook for him.

I think I turned the light off at 4am. I so easily develop vampire hours when I’m not working.

Wasting My Life Like A Fat Chick With A Life Time Supply Of Pavlova

I have pissed around all week and wasted the whole thing, every day of it, hour of it, second of it. Gone. Done. Over. I have done nothing all week. Really nothing. I'm not just trying to sound like crap to be clever, I have been actual crap and there has been nothing smart about it. I am rubbish... smile... this week, anyway.

No, I'm not proud of it. Ha, ha! Big smile.

The cream and meringue and passionfruit of life all over my fat face and my stubby little fingers that are wider than they are long, making snorting noises like a wild pig looking for truffles, oblivious to the sheriff taking away my possessions.

Like all sensible fat chicks, I should wipe the pie crust from my hands, lick the cream from my fingers, hide the footwell of my car with a blanket, stop crying into my apple pie and buy myself a vibrator.

What a Lovely Sunny Day

What a lovely sunny day. It is the kind of day where you feel free and are glad not to be working. The kind of day that makes you feel happy to be alive, makes you want to sing and skip... and possibly run. The kind of day that encourages you to be kind to your fellow man, to smile. The kind of day that shows you what beauty is. Sun, sky, breeze.


I'm going to do an hours exercise... gotta start some where. I'm going walking. Lovely! Just the day for it.

Poor Me

He is so cute… even when he is sick. The curled over bottom lip is adorable.

I can’t kiss him, though. I miss kissing him. I didn’t realised how much I must kiss him, you know, normally. Not until it is gone, as they say. You don’t notice until it is gone.

I kept leaning over to rub my lips gently across his soft skin, all week end.

He kept moving his head away and saying, “No.” Then following it with something like, me being a “complainer” and that he can’t imagine what I might be like if I was sick. It is better he is sick, it is quieter that way. He can’t imagine what I might say if he gave the lurgy to me. If I was the next, straight after he. 

He was just avoiding a nasty situation, where his ears were at a definite risk of bleeding.

Well? Me? Really?

Of course, I deny it. It is not true.

He says he should know better than most, and I guess that is true.

I can pat his forehead and brush the skin on his cheek.

But, mostly, he wanted his back rubbed.

 

Oh My Feet

I've been restoring my family photos, as you may recall, one hundred years of photos. Not so many back in 1912 and lots more in 2012, however, there are many in between.

They have been scanned from old prints, but mostly they have been scanned from old slides, so there is some restoring wok to be done. When I say restoring, I guess, I pretty much mean cleaning. 

I can sit at the coffee table for hours working on them. I can sit for so long that my feet go to sleep. I completely lose the feeling in my slabs of meat. Everything finishes some where around the middle of my calves, that is the feeling it gives me. It is very strange, especially when I stand up. Then "I" feel like I start a quarter of a way up my body. Only the top three quarters exists. It's weird, like an amputee, like a land mine victim, or as I imagine they may feel. If I looked down and saw bloody stumps I wouldn't be surprised.

Hovering man, a new X-man, a new Avenger. He floats above the ground on a double dead feeling… oh er… cushion of air.

Then the pins and needles start and that hurts, hurts in a good way, hurts in a coming back to life, vital kind of way, restoring of blood flow way. And I kind of like that pain, it is the only time I can vaguely understand masochists… or something.

The sun is shining, it is a lovely Sunday morning. Blue skies.

And a sick boyfriend lying on the couch behind me. Poor baby. He's wrapped in a blanket his iPad in his hand, so he isn't so sad, reading his gadget news, or nerd news, as I like to call it.

"What are you doing," he says. He's looking up at me, having stood up, with his big, brown eyes.

"Just getting my feet to work again."

His eyes slide down to my feet. He looks back up at me, smiles, then he looks back to his iPad.

He’s handsome, my boyfriend.

Lovely Rice And Lots Of Booze

Mark

hey chriso... sorry we missed you… been up in the penhow (penthouse) mopping up after a big storm (rain)... got to get those windows water tight... matt and rob are ‘ere… been working all day getting ready for the painters... no one preps like I do, so I have to do it all, meself... cos I want it to be gorgeous...

HOW DIDI YOUR SOUP GO?... DIDI I LIKE THAT MISTOOK, i think I'll use that again... Indeed I didi... doo dah dayie.

Christian

The soup tuned out lovely, even if I do say so myself. I fed it to Sam who is a bit flu'wah... and whinny.

I lit a fire, first thing, and we sat with our Apple products and wrote and read respectively. Sam on the couch, me on the floor. Our morning library. Our meditation. Silent. Calm.

Sam coughed and snotted and spluttered and farted like an old maggot with consumption and diseased bowels. Poor baby.

 Kept the fire stacked and the temperature in the room at a lovely healing “toasty.”

Sebastian was hanging out in Shane’s room in the afternoon. He doesn’t come to say hello to us, not anymore. It is funny how the benchmark to behaviours is only a one way street, but, shrug, I guess, they are not unique there.

We headed out the front door to go to the supermarket without saying hello to Sebastian. Why, when he is content to be rude? Besides, if Shane said anything in the slightly miss guided sense of compadre’ship, I could simply say that I didn’t know he was there. 

I’m not sure I should have taken Sam out in the cold. He seemed to drag his feet just a little. I made risotto. Mushroom, bacon and leek. Yum, it was too.

Anthony came over for the evening. He said he won’t want dinner, he'd eat before he came over. He arrived and I think he was very pissed, more so than usual. Noticeably, which isn’t usual. I thought he’d given it up? He had a small bowl of risotto, and then he wanted more. 

"If you wanted food, why didn't you just say so?" 

“Oh, just a taste,” he said.

That was our lunch for tomorrow. I would have made more. Oh well, I didn’t really mind, don’t get me wrong, but I could have easily made more also, if I’d known.

He can’t communicate so well, I think because of the alcohol he has consumed. He sat on the couch and stumbled over his words. It was eye opening.

I ask him about being banned from Liquorland

“Well, when you arrive at 9am for booze… they ban you.”

9am? Really? I’m not even sure what that means? Surely to be banned you have to be pissed, not just enthusiastically buying supplies? Does that mean he was pissed at 9am. I guess I should have asked him?

We settled into watching TV, that seemed the easiest.

He had a couple of cigarettes and left at 10pm saying he has had a lovely time. I guess two hours is pretty much all he can manage.

It was kind of sad, really. He tells me about his latest health problems. He doesn’t seem to have any idea why he would have them.

 

Lemon Tea Smells Glorious

Sam was sick, he had the flu. I went over to his place in the early afternoon and picked him up. I didn’t get up until late. Lovely it was too. I sat up in bad last night when I got home and watched a movie.

His lip was turned down in sickness, he was clearly unwell. He felt so unwell, that he took a day off from work, so, you see, it must be true. My boy wouldn’t take a day off on a whim, no he wouldn’t, unless, maybe, there was crystal meth involved. Ha, ha.

I cooked him Jewish Mother's chicken soup. A whole chicken boiled with vegetables making soup. I keep adding salt until it tastes like chicken and not like hot water? Don’t be afraid of the salt. Yum, it is lovely once it is seasoned correctly. When it is done, I pull the chicken flesh from the bones and toss it back in. Some people swear chicken soup cooked this way has magical healing properties.

I toasted sour dough olive bread and lash my butter and Sam's with olive oil.

We watched True Blood. I love that show. Sam, not so much, although I can tell he is getting into it, despite his denials.

Poor baby is sick. I wrap him up on the couch in a blanket and light a fire and make him lemon tea.

I tell him not to tell Shane he has the flu, as Shane is so self focused he's likely to immediately refer back to himself and not be happy.

Shane tells us he has big news. He is going to live in London at the end of the year with Tulli. It is all I can do not to cheer. I try not to ask him to define "the end of the year." I try not to count the months out on my fingers.

Tulli was always going back to London at the end of the year so it is hardly a surprise. I don’t comment on the fact that Shane is up rooting his life to live in another country with a guy he not spend a whole lot of time with, has never lived in the same town with, let alone the same house.

I kind of like that sort of act. Live be free. I think that can work. No, it can work. Sometimes. Cross your fingers.

“Yes,” I say. “Good idea. Everyone should live in London once in their life time.”

How about that? An end in sight. And we all get out of our current situation with our dignity in tact. We all get to move on relatively unscathed.

Shane will follow Tulli to London and life will settle back to normal again.

Then I can try and work out why I went off him quite so spectacularly. I’m still not really sure why. I mean there are a lot of small things. His selfishness. His self focus, his continual “back to me.” His lack of smarts. His “follower” tendencies.” His pretentiousness. But they are not new, I have always known those things about him.

I suspect it is being sacked. I think it is stress around work, or the lack there of. I think it is the stress around my mum. I think it is losing Mark and Luke.

Off to Jill's For The Day

It's my day off. But, so is tomorrow. So was Monday, shrug. So days off are't exactly a novelty. I wonder if I should be more concerned about my situation? There is a down turn in job vacancies. Or is that a down turn in jobs? Whichever?


No, I'm not scouring the job vacancies, don't be stupid. That would show some sort of traditional... oh... what would you call it? Some sort of sensible concern for the future, my future, what may come in the future. I'm off to help my friend Jill today. She finished work June 30th. She's doing some minor house renos and I'm helping lift and carry. I'm the muscle... no, don't laugh. It is damp repair, which is not the glamourous kind house renos, as you may have assumed. No it is not the installation of a new chandelier... or an exercise bike, as may be more befitting Jill's current, oh what shall I say, physical state. I guess it would be called maintenance.


She said to come over at 10am and not to be late. This is from the woman who will be late to her own funeral, I kid you not. I laughed at her and  assured her my name wasn't Jill Wilson, but now it is looking a little touch and fucken go. I knew it was a bad thing when I switched my computer on, as I reached for my cereal and coffee. Bad Christian.


I've got to have a shower too. 


And eat my muesli.


Shit!


Fuck it, it is my day off, after all. I can get there at whatever time I want. No, I can. I'm the one doing the favour, after all. Hands in the air. Quizzical look. Head tilt. You can't get told off when you are the one doing the favour, late or not. Wouldn't you agree?


Whichever? I have to hustle.

What can I say? You've got to love a well sorted guy in a pair of soft velvet pants. What is there not to like?

Boys In The Street

There was a middle eastern boy in crimson velvet pants walking up Brunswick Street, as I headed home after work. There is something about velvet pants on a man, they leave little to the imagination and this guy had a lot to admire, as he walked in front of me. Thick dark hair and a handsome face and swarthy olive skin, as I would find out at the traffic lights, as he turned to look at me and unknowingly smiled. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a sexy arse, thick legs. The velvet of his pants seemed to stick to him almost like he was wearing tights like a ballet dancer might.


The sun shone


Walking next to him was an Aussie boy in blue jeans, doing that beltless, practically arsless thing that boys do now a days, with his jeans hanging down at the back. He had on black cotton jocks, which his firm arse cheeks were practically chewing from the inside with every step that he took. I could see the deep hallow behind the middle of the black cotton where the crack in his arse was.


It was a great day to be in Brunswick Street.

They Are All Fuckwits... Except You And Me

Christian - my boss is a fucken moron!!!!!!

Sam - why baby? Is it Jack?

Christian - Jack sent me to a client who uses the old system that I haven't used since 2004 and when I told him, his reply was, "Oh, I thought you did one the other day." From the man who gives me all my work... ?

Sam - f*** bitch

6:13 PM

Christian

and apparently, tomorrow's job is the same, with the old system. He said he was sorry he wasn't clear. WASN'T CLEAR????????? And, would I need the most recent release notes for tomorrow? WOULD I NEED SOME NOTES FOR A SYSTEM I HAVEN'T USED FOR EIGHT YEARS???????? What the fuck do you think, Jack? You  IDIOT!!!!!!!!!

Sam - so are you going there tmmr babe? Are you in panic?

Christian - Yeah, I want the money. i'll wing it... but what sort of expert do I look like?

Sam - really? do you really just realise you need money babe? You can do it… you are my smart baby

Christian - they are all idiots! Just a moron

Sam - remember… "i love salt mines"

Christian - oh... but I don't. I hate the salt mines. I hate the salt mines!

Sam - really? Then remember... "I need money, I need money”

Christian - I don't want to go to the salt mines tomorrow. ☹️

Sam - you can do it.. stop with the winny

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️

Sam - there's nothing i can do

Christian - ☹️

Sam - it's your choice. And stop it

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ☹️☹️☹️

Sam - STOP IT! It's annoying!

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️ crying

Sam - Do you think you're being funny?

Christian - ☹️ boo hoo. BOO HOO

Sam - I see

Christian - BOO!!!!!! HOO!!!!! At least they only make you do what you know when you go to the salt mines

Sam - U think so? That's not true. And why are you compare with me?

Christian - I guess I shouldn't be such a baby... just get on with it and shut up

Sam - TRUE. YES!

Christian - is that what you are saying? So you are saying that

Sam - Look at today, the project news. They have to sell their kidneys to survive in Manila. And there is a man selling his eye

Christian - i'll be doing that next.

Sam - I see. That’s your conclusion

Christian - poor poor me ☹️ ☹️ 

Sam - have you eaten yet babe?

Christian - ☹️ yep. noodles

Sam - what noodle? spaghetti?

Christian - you?

Sam - i just had frozen chicken schnitzel with salad (2 pieces)

Christian - the noodles you cooked

Sam - and now warm beef pie (one) you didn't eat it yesterday for lunch?

Christian - no. I didn't eat lunch, I didn't get up until nearly lunch time. Lovely, hey?

Sam - see... you understand lovely

Christian - indeed 

Day Off. I Stayed in Bed

I woke at 8.45, then at 10.15, and then at 11.40. My Monday off. You gotta luv Monday’s off. I could lie in as long as I wanted, funny how I never seem to when I can. Although, I guess 11.40 is pretty good going.

I wanted to watch Cazwell’s “Ice Cream Truck” as soon as I woke up. I’m not really sure why? I guess it is catchy. It’s a sexy film clip. I kept thinking about it, it got me out of bed by 11am to grab my laptop.

I started reading ninemsn. What was happening in the world? Ernest Borgnine died aged 95. Tom Cruise, allegedly, used to parade around in a g-string when he was young and before he was famous. Do you think he’d have a hairy arse? He loved to stare at his muscles and talk about when he was going to be famous, apparently.

I loved Ernest Borgnine. I hate Tom Cruise.

I watched “Remembering Matthew Bremer”, a Corbin Fisher model who just died at 22. I didn’t know who he was, but he sure was handsome. And his story seemed sad, really sad. A drug overdose. A boy who had it all. The dedication footage used for the Youtube tribute was from a movie called “Howl”, staring James Franco.

A day off, what to do? I have tomorrow off too, so I could just waste today.

I should be ringing that other employment agent who wanted me to do some contract work for her. I should be? She rang me at the beginning of July. I wonder how long I have to respond?

I should go and help Jill today. She’s got more she wants organised. You know, don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Sigh. But, you know, I’m not working until Wednesday, I can go help her tomorrow and really, I’d rather just watch James Franco movies today.

So I headed to the dvd shop and got dvd’s. Eight for $10, don’t you hate having to chose 8, I know I do. Aren’t we weird, we want good deals, but we hate it if it is too much work. Human nature, it’s weird.

When I got back, Jack called and gave me a job for tomorrow. Oh, oops, I’ll have to go help Jill on Thursday.

Then I decided, after I had eaten my muesli and drank my coffee, that I really wished I’d bought the caramel popcorn, so it was back down the street to the dvd shop. Except, halfway there, I decided that I should go to the supermarket instead. So, there it is visit number 01 to Woolies. Is there a day that I don't go to the fucken supermarket? I decided to do a price comparison between the supermarket and the dvd shop. Don't they say the supermarket is always cheaper? And the supermarket won, so there you go. Lolly gobble bliss bombs. Yum! Do you think they would be fresher at the supermarket than the dvd shop? Quite possibly I don't have enough to do?

I watched Howl. Then Milk. And A Separate Peace.

James Franco is just so gorgeously handsome. He’s just lovely. I hope he’s gay, apparently he is not.

Oh for those days of A Separate Peace. Those school days. It reminded me of Alex and me. It reminded me of Alex and me when I sat next to him and studied the book in school.

I was Gene. Alex was Finny.

And Alex died like Finny. Not as young as Finny, of course, but he still died young. The good and the beautiful die young?

I stayed in bed all day.