I Think I Am Losing My Charm At Work

I woke up at 6am and went and had a piss. I glanced at the clock and was pleased with the time I had left to doze. I love that in the mornings, an hour to drift back to sleep, it is the best hour of the day. I was having excellent dreams, I wanted to get back to them. The sun was gently floating in through the window. Sam snored gently, like he does. I stood momentarily and gazed upon the scene. It is, perhaps, one of the loveliest moments in life. Oh how I wanted that moment to last forever.

The morning came around soon enough though, of course, as it does. Buddy came inside covered in dirt. He’s been rolling around in the garden bed up the back, sunbathing. That garden bed, unfortunately, is basically dirt mixed with the ashes from the fireplace that I empty there, perhaps, once a year. We brushed Buddy’s fur and a cloud of dust rose towards the ceiling, as we sat at the coffee table with out muesli and coffee. It is his new thing, sadly. Sam declared him an emergency shower situation. I could see a shower every second day during summer, if the dirt baths kept up. We’re going to was him tonight, apparently. I can hardly wait. I hoped Sam would forget about it, but that was unlikely.

It was a lovely warm morning. You could feel summer was around the next corner, if not here already.


At lunch time, I’m in the kitchen writing on my laptop. Its good. I get so much of my journal written this way, which I wouldn't get written other wise. Better than reading the newspaper. Well, if I go to lunch at 12.30 and the others go to lunch at 1pm, or 1.30. “It helps make the day go faster,” they say. Oh really, Cathy? (my minor boss) Cathy runs for an hour at lunch time, of course – oh god don’t strike me down for this – Christine goes up the local drive through for her lunch. (yep, she's fat) And I go back at 1.30pm. And they come back an hour later. I get to read the online newspaper for an hour. Two hour lunch time anyone.


I’m losing my charm at work, I can feel it. Cathy is a grumpy try-hard and I am putting up my defences, I can feel it. She’s hard work. She’s not particularly smart, but she makes up for it in dogged tenacity. It could well be a poor education, rather than lack of intelligence. She would never have been treated as the favourite child growing up, maybe she was the middle child. Maybe, she was even not liked by a parent, possibly her mother. (she looks after her mother now with bitter resignation) I think Cathy has a great need to be thought of as worthwhile, as we all do, of course, but her need is greater than most.

I’m sure she is just lovely when everything is going her way, but when it is not, I’m sure she is an unbearable, cranky bitch. (no, she is)

She’s also a drunk, freely admitted. And she and her husband like to think of themselves as food connoisseurs, even if I doubt she would know what connoisseurs meant… with her royal blue shag carpet in Bundoora.


I’m not really liking her. She has very little charm about her, no warmth to speak of, nothing really nice to offer. I think my time here is drawing to a close.

Christine reckons that Cathy is feeling unwell today, but she would never admit it. Christine says Cathy is cranky and probably needs to take a sick day, but she would never, ever do that. 

She has to move forward. She has to be seen as a winner. "So busy."

Christine is lovely. (my colleague)  I’d like to work with her. She is laid back and down to earth and really easy to work with.

The other day, Cathy complained of a dizzy spell when she was chatting from her desk to Christine, at her desk. Cathy had to take a time out and flee the office. I reckon Cathy is wound up pretty tight most of the time.

I was secretly hoping she'd have a brain bleed while she was splashing water on her face in the ladies, hitting the floor like a bag of shit never to get up again. But, I guess, that is a thought I should just keep to myself.

I don’t dislike her, don’t get me wrong, she’s okay, actually, she’s perfectly fine. I just can’t warm to her as a human being. She just simply isn’t my cup of tea. Whenever I meet people who are wound tighter than a cat’s arse hole, I just want to see them unwind like a Catherine Wheel, it is a fault in me, I don’t doubt it. I don’t mean strips of flesh plastered against the ceiling and the walls, like crazy paving chicken fillets, no. I guess I mean the noise of the relief, the actual relief, of getting done over by an entire football team, possibly, minus the football team, for those of you who are squeamish. But the final outcome of that teeth grinding, jaw wobbling occurrence. That is the “unwind” that I mean and that is what we all want to see, surely, in the annoyingly overwound amongst us. Blouse undone, hair ruffled, cigarette in the mouth.  



Did I just wish her dead? I think I did? But it is me, not her. I just don’t think I have the temperament any longer for long term assignments. I think I get too paranoid and start to think that the employer’s “go off” me, start to dislike me, you always get found out in the end, and it kind of winds down from there. Of course, I have to find someone else to lay the blame on, naturally. 

I am sure it is as a result of being bullied by my old law firm. I’m sure I should have sued them for bullying and got some closure on that whole horrible affair. Then I should have had counselling.I’ve got to fight against getting my back up against the (imagined) enemy, because even if I do it silently, passive aggressively, I am sure it still affects my attitude, even if it is in a minor way.

Are You Sure You Are Gay?

The bulldog was put out in his kennel and I was just heading off to bed. I couldn't think of anything to write, so I was shutting down the day. The boyfriend had headed off to bed ages ago, (Do you like that, The Boyfriend?) we all know how he likes to tuck himself into bed early like someone's old aunt fucking Agatha.

Then the exboyfriend skyped me and we chatted. Mark. He is back in Hanoi. He and Luke left on Sunday. He says it is very pleasant there in the mid twenties but, of course, it is heading into winter and not out. So, it will be getting colder and not hotter.

I'd already spoken to another exboyfriend earlier today. Anthony. He went for medical tests last week and his doctor's receptionist called and asked him to come in. He thinks he must be dying of prostate cancer, even if he is, probably, too young for that. Of course, that is not promised, but it is still unlikely. He also had cholesterol and blood sugars. I cheered him up by saying he was most likely diabetic and he'd better get himself in there before he has a turn. The best would be high cholesterol, out of those three, I'm thinking, a course of pills and down it comes. So, I've heard.

My brother, sister and I have cholesterol a bit on the high side, but we all have very high good cholesterol too. So, I take fish oil tablets. I'm very on-trend. Ha ha.

Buddy must have heard me and he barked from his kennel, so I let him in again. Then, I was just taking a moment to think about the day.

I told one of the girls at work from another department that I was gay today, before I've told my own department. It is kind of weird to be going through that again. It is kind of odd that it is something we have to do over and over again. There doesn't seem to be an end to it.

I'm out to everybody and have always been. One of my favourite lines from a previous job was when one of the old receptionists sidled up to me and asked me very earnestly.

"Are you sure you are gay?" she asked me very seriously one day.

I remember thinking, what kind of question is that. "Yes, very sure," I said. And without thinking too much about it I added. "I've had it confirmed on numerous occasions."

Her eyes widened and she smacked my arm and laughed.

I'm not sure how this job got away from me. It was a temporary job that developed into something more permanent, of course. I don't know why, but I didn't really think about it and no one has really asked me about my private life, directly. I don't know how that happened? I guess they talk about themselves. 

I don't tell my contracts assignments that I am gay, I guess I got out of the habit.

It just came up today. P and I have been discussing food and restaurants. She seems to eat a lot of the places Sam and I eat. Today I was heating up Japanese curry for lunch. She guessed it was Japanese. She said that I must really be into food to be cooking Japanese Curry and I responded that I have a boyfriend who likes to cook. She didn't care. We discussed a few other things and then she'd heated up her food and she was gone.

Let's see how long it takes for one of my team to ask me.

One Of The Most Beautiful Cars Ever Made

Bristol 403

Maaate... Suck My Dick

It was a bright sunny morning this morning. A pulled-back blond-haired, gold sunglasses wearing, pointy-face chick driving a grey 335 BMW convertible hurled herself around the [name of my street]/Gertrude Street corner, accelerating quickly towards Victoria Parade, so hard that all of her engine values opened up, like I am sure her snatch did against the leather seats. She quickly caught the small Hyundai hatchback that had been in front of me at Gertrude Street, that had just managed to slip across Gertrude before blonde-fantastic took over the road. I caught up behind her when it took a while for the black hatchback to get around the corner.

She turned right somewhere and I left her behind.


As we crossed over Hoddle Street, all the morons were sticking to the right hand lane. Idiots. There are two lanes, you dicks. Sometimes it has its advantages, if all the lobotomised humans stick to the right lane, I could pull into to the left lane from behind the black Touareg and slip passed just about everyone on the road, even passed a big truck that couldn’t decide what lane it wanted to be in. I’m assuming, it was moving from the right lane to the left lane, but really, such lazy driving. I slipped passed it, no problem. The red Prelude finally decided it wanted to be in the right lane and not the left lane, so it took off after the other dopes, which then left the right hand lane relatively free.


I heard the diesel engine of the truck rev and could hear it engage first gear and pull up next to me. The cute wog boy in the hi-viz vest and beanie looked down from the open passenger window that seemed a whole story above me.


“Hey maate, didn’t you see the truck here?” He was trying to be really smart and threatening at the same time. That kind of cool threatening serial killer kind of tone.

“I’m sorry.” Oh spare me, you halfwit.

“Maate… have you ever heard of giving way to trucks?”

“Mate, have you ever heard of the left lane,” I pointed to my car, “and the right lane," I pointed at his truck. "Why don’t you try picking one.”

“Maate, how would you like me to make your car a convertible.”

“Mate, I can’t hear you?” I was considering saying I couldn’t hear him to everything he said.

“How would you like me to make your car a convertible?”

I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “That would be great, maaate.” I wondered if the crow call mimic of his expression was too much. “I’d love a convertible.” But I am not sure if the big lug really got it. The traffic began to move and I zipped off the mark, while dick head and his boof head buddies shuddered to life in their 2 toner.


I glanced in my rear vision mirror to see the three idiots, three across in the cabin in Hi-viz vests in the Hino Truck. They looked like the old “not so squeezy” add. I bet they were enjoying each other’s pressure on each other’s thighs. The big closests.


The traffic in front of me in Victoria Street on the other side of Church Street intersection was banked back to the intersection so I stopped with Larry, Curly and Moe still right behind me. I stopped at the white line the next car to go. I waited to the last minute until the Church Street lights changed to orange, despite the traffic moving forward some what, and then I accelerated across the intersection leaving the big lumps to rub their thighs together (One in three, they say, so one of them potentially had half a mongrel) as I left them behind at the now red lights.

Suck my dick, mate, I thought.

Hello Handsome

We took Buddy to the dog park. It was a lovely sunny day. Sam and I had “played up” (if you know what I mean) on Friday night, and we needed to get out in the fresh air... for the first time… since Friday. Oh, other than that lunch but that was just Hainanese Chicken Rice and Nasi Lemak respectively. We stood there with our sunglasses on.

Buddy scampered around with the other dogs. We stood and watched, just our heads moving at the neck. Otherwise still.

When we were driving home, there was a bike rider coming towards us on the wrong side of the road, on our side of the road. As I like to say, that is the problem with the world, all the idiots.

“Look at this…” and then he got a bit closer and I could see the square jaw and the stubble and the handsome face… “um… er… cutie pants.” …the piercing eyes, the olive skin, the small riding shorts, actually, I didn’t see what he was wearing, but a boy can embellish… You know, so what if he is on my side of the road, sometimes you just have to cut people some slack, moi thinks to himself. Ha, ha.

Terrible isn’t it, in truth, that the way someone looks affects the way others react to them. 

Well? Um? Thinking about it, I guess not for the handsome. It’s not terrible.

What do we care if the beautiful get away with a lot more than we ever can? Good for them. Is it just jealousy? Or does the intrinsic unfairness of the situation matter? Does it matter? Or should we just suck it up?

Should we really give a shit because we know one day they will lose their looks and it will be relatively hard for them to cope?

I remember travelling around southern Europe with the amazingly handsome Canadian David and being told by gay accommodation houses, “The pretty boys don’t have to pay.” I guessed that just having David around would attract other gay men to stay in the establishments? I rode in on his coat tails... ta da. 

The Greek Islands were never more fun.

Maybe it was just the come down? Nyr? The bike rider, the beautiful, and David? Who can say?

I smiled at Sam. He smiled at me. And none of it seemed to matter anyway.

We turned into Church Street and drove away.

Shopping at Chaddy. I guess Mr Muscles did catch me taking a photo of him judging by the look on his face? Ah? What can you do?

Big shoes, not something you see every day

Busy Busy. Ha Ha. Ho Ho.

What a beautiful day. Hot and sunny. I went for a walk to Victoria Gardens, alas it was to buy cigarettes. I had to quit again and I nearly made it today, but at lunch time I suddenly had this overwhelming urge to smoke, bad me. I was nervous about the work I have been doing.

It was very hot by midday, and I was sweating when I got back to work. It was hot with a blue, blue sky, but also with a breeze. It was a perfect day, really. It would have been perfect if I had a Greek Island behind me and the Mediterranean in front of me.

As I walked back passed all of the lovely old Richmond warehouses there was a huge pair of shoes lying in front of one of them. They were huge, kind of comical, legs with shoes lying on their side.

It wasn’t until I got back to the office that it occurred to me to take a photo of them.

Rats!

My job is so easy, amazingly so. I tried to have a meeting with my boss last Thursday to review the work I have done, thus far. It has been long overdue. In fact, I haven’t had much to do for the last week. Longer. My boss was away for some of those days, in the last week. I’ve been filling in the long days with very little. My journal, mostly. Oh, did I say that out loud? Anyway, my boss has been hard to catch up with. I don’t know what it is “they” think I have been doing. I stretched it out as long as I could because, quite frankly, no one seems to have been concerned about what I was doing. But it is boring not to be busy, of course.

I spend most of my day emailing Sam, backwards and forwards. He he.

I have been given a very specific role and I have done it, don’t get me wrong. I have done what has been asked of me, but I can’t proceed any further without my boss answering a few specific procedural issues. I can’t help but think it is the easiest job in the world.

Anyway, last Thursday morning I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. “Yes, I do. But can we do it after lunch.”

“Sure.”

So, I was waiting for him to say let’s go through it. Then there were dramas in the afternoon and he didn’t seem to look in my direction and say, “Let’s do it.”

Friday he was in Sydney.

Well, today, as we did the round table talk thing about what we’d been doing in our weekly meeting this morning, he responded to what I said I’d been doing with, “You were supposed to see me last Thursday but you didn’t come and see me.”

Oops.

So, today I stalked him and made sure we had our meeting today.

“Sure," he said, "but can we do it this afternoon.”

“Sure.” I was a bit nervous as I know how hard I have been working.

I got to see him in the afternoon. I gave him two options that I had prepared for him. He loved what I had done. He was happy with the easiest of the options. He gave me a couple of things to be added to the work. He is now gone for the rest of the week. The couple of things I have to do now I should have done in a day. Easy. So again, what does he think I will be doing for the rest of the week?

Still, I’ll be gone when the assignment is done and I won’t be there when they have to update the project themselves, so I guess I’ll never get found out.

I’ve got three days to include a head count formula.

The truth is, as Cathy has told me a couple of times, the department was a very unhappy place and they were all threatening to resign, essentially, due to poor management from my boss. When I came in and did my first contract unbeknownst to me this was the state of affairs. I was asked back because I was competent… and, surprisingly, because I was funny, a breath of fresh air is how Cathy (my other manager) described it. I think mostly it was the competent side of me that they liked the most, but happy me had something to do with it.

I thought that was kind of nice. So, it is a finance/therapist kind of role that I am doing. Ha ha.

I guess what it tells me is that I probably need to stop being slack and get myself a full time job, rather than faffing about with contract work.

We ate rice noodles with pork belly and bok choi. Yum, yum. We watched all of the channel 9 comedies – The Big Bang Theory, Two Broke Girls, Two and a Half men. Then I watched Q&A in Mumbai when Nana S went to bed. I was in bed before midnight.

Good legs on the jogger

A Sexy Bunch of Boys

The roads were quite busy with traffic, as I headed down Victoria Parade this morning. The sun was shining, the sky was blue. Monday morning. Ah! Shake of the head.

A special mention has to go to the shaved head builder in my street with his pert, bubble butt in his dark blue work pants that fitted him so perfectly, having a bit of a stretch on the road side of his ute.

And another special mention has to go to the shirtless jogger in the short baggy black shorts with flashes of his red jocks showing, above and below his black shorts, with the amazingly sexy muscular legs, glistening with sweat running down Victoria Parade.

And another special mention has to go to the bike rider in Victoria Street at the lights looking back in my direction, still with his leg over the bike and his cute arse on the bike seat with the elastic of his undies showing. Very nice you pretty young man.

I don’t think I am normally such a perv, but the “form” on display, this morning, was difficult not to notice. 

All that beef. Big exhale.

cool VW Fastback

Sunny Sunday

I was up at 8.45 with an aching wrist. I don’t know why? It felt like repetitive strain injury, but does that come on so quick? It ached with pain.

I wrote on my computer for a while. Actually, I read on line news. Then I tried to do some writing, but I couldn’t find my usb. I tried to sneak back into the bedroom, to get my USB and then return to my computer to do some writing, but Sam woke up immediately and then Buddy ascended the stairs and came snuffling into the room.

Then we were all awake… and I didn’t write anything. My morning writing was gone… oh well.

I made coffee and muesli, what was left of it. I piled on the bananas to make up for the lack of cereal. Then I did all the weekly washing, as Sam swept the back yard.

The sun was shining.

I asked Sam if he wanted to go to the dog park. He said yes. I messaged Jill if she wanted to meet us there, but she didn’t answer straight away.

Sam rubbed Tiger Balm on my sore hand. (I stll hate the smell of it)

We walked to Victoria Street and ate Vietnamese. I wasn’t allowed to take photos as Sam was in emergency food mode. I ate Broken Rice, Sam ate rice paper rolls with meats and we both ate a plate of mini Vietnamese pancakes.

Jill called as we ate, she got cut off as soon as we got connected. “Hi it’s me…” nothing. I waited for her to call back, she didn’t. I guess I should have called her, but I didn’t. I asked the question, she was supposed to provide the answer, I guess. The food distracted me. We saw her yesterday, the allocated shopping day. Sam wanted to go to Costco. I reminded him yesterday we mindlessly shopped.

We bought food for dinner. Sam threatened to buy bitter melon to make salad. I told him the only thing it was good for was a dildo. He made the purchases, I carried the bags. My sore hand held no sway. But it did hurt.

We watched the drug dealers do drug deals.  The attractive Asian chick around 30, who I’ve seen down there before and who seems to do the supplying. Hair pulled back, beautiful eyes. And the big guy in track pants who looked like he has a cock like a horse. He handed over something to a guy in front of us, with that customary palm slide and then he seemed to take something from behind one of his teeth. Then it was over and he was back with the Asian chick, smiling revealing his missing teeth.

We walked home. It was a beautiful sunny day. I took photos.

I was talking nonsense on the way home. It started with a discussion about the pork bone we’d bought Buddy… and it went from there. “And then the pig police arrive and accused us of hog homicide and all we could do was oink and take our trotters out of our mouths.”

I said to Sam that I’d post it on Facebook and I bet someone would like it, as they do on Facebook. It makes me wonder sometimes if people even read what I write. I sometimes wonder if there is any depth to Facebook? It exists for a lot of noise to be released.

It was a sparkling day. Sunny, a lovely day to be out in it. It was one of those shiny, slip along with ease kind of days. Kissed by the sun and everything seemed stress free. The sky shone blue, the light was crisp and encouraging.

Sam rubbed more Tiger balm into my hand when we got home.

We walked Buddy down to Messina to buy ice creams instead of taking him to the dog park. Shrug! Wide eyes. Hands turned over in mid air. We also had a couple of things we’d forgotten to buy earlier in the day. Cat food and milk. The ice cream shop had a long queue out into the street, there were people everywhere. I think people are so bored now a days, they’d go to the opening of anything. We saw Gavin and Phillip who were inside. They came out with their ice creams, which I refused a taste of, but Sam tried. He said it was far too sweet. Apparently, it is meant to be super creamy.

I left Sam with them and went to Woolies. I had instructions to get milk and cat food. I wanted and yogurt and bananas for breakfast. I impulsively bought cloudy apple juice. I bought three different types of muesli with the intention of mixing them together with the extra sultanas I’d also bought.

Sam thinks he saw the pit bull that attacked Buddy on Smith Street. The pit-bull was on a thick chain and it barked when it saw Buddy as though it still wanted to eat him. Of course, Buddy wanted to go over and say hello. The (presumed junkie) owner eyed Sam as if he may have recognised Sam. He text me in the supermarket to tell me. There was no sign of the junkie or his junkie dog as we headed home.

I made raspberry jelly with mandarin segments.

We ate pork belly and Bok Choi.

My hand only hurts a bit now.

Shopping in Victoria Street on this Sparkling Sunny Day

Chillies and peppers at marked prices

But dad, you still haven't told me why?

Love among the cucumbers

He was rising from the grocery shelves like a...

Apples $2.50 a kilo

iPhone 5

I got the new phone. Sam has been telling me that he will give me some instructions on how to use it.

Ha ha, ho ho. It is a mobile phone, what is there to learn?

So, this morning, I leapt right out of bed, I picked up the phone and pushed the button at the top to turn it on. I didn't have my glasses on, but I know the button is at the top, that much I can do.

I pushed and pushed, but the damn phone didn't come on. Then I realised I had the phone upside down.

Sam was sitting up in bed looking straight at me... with that look on his face.

Anyway, time to take photos, for my blog, that is really what I wanted it for. Better photos. I don't care about communicating with anyone. If I could just turn the damn thing on. Ha ha.

No Mobile

I've had no mobile phone for a week. Shrug, what is the big deal? 

Sam has bought a new iPhone 5S and I am getting his iPhone 5, mostly because I want the better camera. I had to cut down my old sim card from my Sony to fit the iPhone last Sunday, just to see if it would work, as my phone provider wouldn't provide me with a new sim unless I signed up to a new plan. 

I'm with Crazy John's which is now handled by Vodaphone. So, I had to go to Vodaphone to get the new sim, but they wouldn't give it to me unless I gave up my much better Crazy John's plan that only has twelve months to run and sign up to an inferior Vodaphone plan for 24 months. 

Lucky for me the cut down sim works.

But after I cut down my sim last Sunday I couldn't put it back in my Android phone and I don't get the new phone until tomorrow.

I haven't missed the phone for a week. Some of my friends are amazed. Do you think we are too addicted to our mobiles? How often do you go somewhere now a days to see everybody looking down at their smart phone screen?

Cats and dogs, Venus and Mars

I was doing labels for folders, at work, it was a quiet afternoon. I hadn't done them before, but how hard can they be? I ask you? I'm usually good doing such things. Some days, I don't care what I do, it is enough just to keep busy. I hate sitting around doing nothing, the day drags. I'm happy to help out.

I had to ask where the labels were. Then, as I was heading back to my desk, I asked, "Which way do they go in the printer tray?"

“Read the instructions, don’t be such a man,” said Cathy, pointedly. Christine tut tutted. A collective roll of the eyes, knowing (girl power) laugh.

“Oh, okay.” Funny how it is perfectly okay to criticise a man for being a man, but if you dared say the same thing about a woman? (I guess we do, however. Don't be such a girl. But that is usually a boy on boy comment) I get it, I understand the reasons why… men have a lot of bad behaviour to make up for… and I can take it, I don’t really care. It is just interesting the way society is going.

So the instructions were…

Place down up (tray)… scrawled on the inside of the box lid. I mean, how stupid of me for not taking in such definitive instructions. Would I dare to comment on the inexact level of female instructions? No, I would not.

I'm a sucker for an old Holden

Cool, isn't it. My favourite Holden

Barracuda

I went into the city to buy Christos Tsiolkas' new novel Barracuda. My favourite author. In Myer it was $32. In Big W it was $16. Half the price? How the hell does that work? I can imagine a few dollars difference, but half the price?

Sam was telling me all the whole time that I should buy it online and use his eBook reader. I scoffed at the idea. I still like the feel of the paper and the smell of the pages as a part of my book reading experience. However, it is actually a large book and heavy to hold up and I probably should have taken his advice.

Still, I wouldn't have had the Hong Kong style desert as a part of the shopping experience, if I'd bought it online.

Just say no

We talked about the latest sex scandal (as such) to come out of the armed forces, at work today. The young boy sailors who are being raped, or sexually penetrated, with pens or drink bottles on the birthdays, as a form of initiation.

J piped up (the youngest of the team and such a Charlotte, if you go in for Sex in The City character profiling) “Why don’t they just say no?”

A (the other HR girl, who I just think is great and who, from all accounts, thinks the same way about me) and I just broke up.

“If it is all the same to you…” said A, with big eyes. “I’d rather not.”

“Thanks all the same, but no,” I said, “But thank you for thinking of me…”

A and I laughed.

"We aren't talking about consensual sex," I said.

"Oh," said J. "Well how else would it happen..."

"They'd be held down," said A.

"By a group of men," I said.

"Oh, well that's not very nice," said J. She screwed up her face.

A and I laughed some more.

Street lights and headlights

Gravity

We went to see Gravity at iMax. Sam wanted to go to the dumpling shop after the movie, but I wanted to come straight home afterwards and do more photo scanning. I know, pathetic. Oh I shouldn’t be so hard on myself… I know, enthusiastic. It is just a little one-eyed, I guess.

We had an hour before the movie started at 6.30 at the museum. I wanted to get kebabs which we could eat while we were walking to the cinema. Sam wanted to have Huxtable hamburgers. We opted for the hamburgers. The last time I had them they were small and expensive and ordinary. They are still expensive, but they were quite nice and a step above ordinary… but still kind of small.

Gravity was okay. It was nice to look at. Cool in 3D, even if I think my 3D glasses had seen better days. It was visually beautiful. But, still kind of American in places. Americans are not ones for doing subtlety generally, or believability, either. And I don’t really like Sandra Bullock, she has so little subtlety to her, or deft of hand at acting. She is very much a two dimensional actrine. Sometimes you have to play somebody else other than yourself. Sometimes you have to transform.

It was nice walking home in the cool night air. We watched Top Gear. I scanned more of my photos. Then there was the second episode of Top Gear on, I scanned, Sam headed up stairs earlier than his earlier than normal nana time, 10pm. I stayed up until midnight.

The museum awning

Working On My Photos

Just before Big Brother came on, I asked Sam about the printer/scanner in my study. The new one, the one I have barely used as a printer and have never used as a scanner. I decided that I should give it a go to see if it could scan photos, or not. 

It was particularly an image of me, Mark, Lauri and Dean, in which we all looked handsome. The four of us looked great, actually.

It worked. WooHoo!

The images were sooooo much better than the grainy images I came up with last time I scanned photos on that other scanner that I used. Admittedly, that may have been 6 or 7 years ago and clearly the hardware/software has vastly improved. 

I also have Photoshop now and can work the images over well. 20th Century images being given the 21st Century software tweaks.

When I said that I’d rather stay in the study and scan than come and watch Big Brother, Sam suggested moving the printer into the lounge room, I guess, realising he may not see me otherwise for the rest of the night.


I stayed up late scanning. It was exciting to think that my photo collection could be completed. Instead of being permanently on hold, as it would seem it has been, due to so many missing negatives, I can now complete the missing images.

It is amazing how the images come to life when you view them on a computer screen and not in a sleeve in a photo album.

Edna Krabappel

What a tragedy, the actress who did the voice of Edna Krabappel has died, and it has been decided that the character will be retired from the Simpsons because of it.

She is one of my very favourite characters, ever. She is great. What a shame. She appeals to the cynic in me. She has made me laugh so much over the years.

I'll miss you Edna.

Oops, Sorry Mate

I was driving up Victoria Street on the way home and, as usual, it was busy. A van was turning right in front of me. The car directly in front of me was a lousy driver who, I suspect, was on their phone and driving slow. So the two of us went to the left around the van turning right. The traffic in front of the van was banked up from the front of his car, so me and useless in front of me kind of squeezed around in front of him. I was concentrating on the van and I was concentrating on the idiot car in front of me. 

We finally moved forward. Unfortunately, or not, there was ute coming out of the side street, who I didn’t see, or I did but didn’t care. I was concentrating on other things and I didn’t let him in. It was hot and we all had our car windows open and the next thing I knew the ute driver was abusing me. Yabber, yabber. I’d moved forward I didn’t really hear what he was saying.

The traffic in front was banked up, so I decided to turn right at a street further up Victoria Street. The next thing Mr ute driver was next to me and yelling at me still. I turned to say sorry to him, but you know he was on a stop sign and I had the right of way, and as I looked into his angry face I really meant to say “sorry mate,” but it came out as, “Listen here buddy, I don’t fucken care if you live or die, mate,” instead. He started tooting his horn, as the traffic coming towards me broke into a gap, and I turned right leaving Mr About-to-have-a-stroke behind.

Surely being let into a main road from a side street with a stop sign is a privilege not a right?

Dressed in a Towel With a Very Red Face Doing Peculiar Things

As I drove down Nicholson Street Abbotsford to The Hive to go to the chemist, there was a youngish, kind of fit, bloke in the middle of the road only dressed in a towel with a very red face doing very peculiar things. 

When I drove back up Nicolson Street from the chemist, he was still dress in a towel and he was still doing peculiar things, but he was now surrounded by about five policemen.

I guess he started his weekend partying early.

You know, get as out of it as you like, but why don't they stay in doors, that is what I often wonder?

An Apple a Day

While visiting a friend in the hospital, I noticed several pretty nurses, each of whom was wearing a pin designed to look like an apple. I asked one of the nurses what the pins signified.

"Nothing," said the nurse. She smiled. "It's just to keep the doctors away… specifically, the married ones." She smiled again.

 

I Like The Rain

What a funny old day? It hasn't stopped raining since yesterday, or was it the day before? Actually, I like it. I like the drops of rain falling from the branches of the trees. I like the way the rain makes all the colours of the garden so rich and intense.  I like the feeling of everything being wet, glistening and shiny and fresh. I like the moisture in the air. I like standing under the veranda and watching the rain fall, as I stay nice and dry. I like the sound of it on the tin roof, the finger-like strumming of the raindrops against the house. 

I like the rain.

Home Sick

I got to work feeling fine. The office seemed to be hot when I got there, but that is nothing new, as two of the five girls in the office must have reptile blood running through their veins, as they always complain that they are cold.

My manager arrived late, complaining about the heat in the office as soon as she got there, so I thought, maybe, it wasn’t me.

I felt, essentially, fine, I made a cup of coffee, and got to work. But then I started feeling sick, and the office still felt hot and I felt sweaty. The back of my shirt seemed to be sticking to my skin. Not long after, I started to get a really bad head ache, starting as a painful dot in the middle of my brain expanding exponentially, like a bladder of pain was being inflated in the middle of my head. I tried to do a spreadsheet for one of the HR girls and I could barely get it together. I was feeling nauseous. And hot. I was having trouble concentrating. It was at this point, I decided I needed to go home.

I got home feeling nauseous with an aching head.

I lit a fire, which may not have been needed now that I am stripping off clothes again.

I pissed around on my computer, looking at pictures of Rihanna posing outside a mosque.

Then I decided to make some lunch. There was pork belly in the fridge, Sam told me. All I had to do was cook some rice. Cook 3 cups, the rest can be used for fried rice. Don't forget to rinse it.

Don't forget to rinse the rice.

Don't forget to rinse the rice.

I rinsed the rice. I would have done it, without reminding. I tipped out all of the white starchy rice water, with the intension of giving the rice a second rinse. I was just tipping out those last drops, when the rice pot slipped out of my hand and most of the rice fell into the sink.

Bugger!

There were our dirty breakfast bowls in the sink, covered in soapy water, as I'd washed my hands before I started to rinse the rice.

I decided, at that point, just to stop trying to do anything and pull the blanket over me.

I lay on the floor with Buddy in front of the fire for the rest of the afternoon, listening to the rain fall on the roof. Listening to him snore in my ear, just like Sam does. I pulled my hoodie over my head. The flat floor was surprisingly comfortable, I thought, as my body drifted in relaxation.

Yay, Monday

OMG! Meeting first up. 9am. Hello Monday morning. An HR team meeting, where I had to pretend to give a shit. Oh... ha ha... where I had to... um... think, be productive and contribute.

Not that I am really complaining, no not really, I've got a job, after all.

It is still baffling to me how I ended up in HR, however, after all the things I have written. Ha ha. Proof, that no one needed, that there is no god. Would it be termed cruel irony?

Then it was a meeting well into the afternoon to discuss the notes we took at the 2 day conference. Yay Monday. And I work with all girls, so I couldn't even sit there and imagine them in the underwear, if they have hairy chests, or foreskins.

The universe knows I don't want to imagine all those mystifying little string things and that extra chest flesh.

If you'd killed me around 1pm, I wouldn't have cared.

Do you think all gay men have an underwear fetish? I had the odd dirty thought when all those GM boys came down in their suits for their quarterly meeting. Damian's arse in grey wool... that's all I'm saying. But, alas, that wasn't today.

 

Bored on Sunday

I'm sitting here typing up my notes from the two day conference I was on on Thursday and Friday. My gung-ho boss has organised a meeting for us Monday morning to get together and compare and collate notes.

Legislative changes to employment legislation.

Can I tell you how bored I am?

Sam is on the couch behind me... seemingly without a care. (Grrr) Buddy is lying next to me, stretched out across the carpet. (Rrrr) Both asleep.

The sky has just clouded over grey and the light has seeped out of the room as if was pulled out like a single piece of material.

I think it is about to pour with rain, I am sure.

The music has stopped. It is very quiet and still. The only noise that can be heard is the clip of the keys on my laptop as I depress them.

Sam is breathing rhythmically.

Buddy is quiet, unusually.

The wind blows the trees occasionally out in the garden. (rustle)

It feels like a Sunday where we've done very little. It feels like a weekend where I've had my choices taken away from me. It feels like a day where I am unable to do what I want. What would I call that? Working on the weekend? Working from home? I don't know, but I don't really want to do it anymore.

Oh, come on, whatever, write faster, I think.

Replacing The Tram Lines

Victoria Street, looking east. Big boys with their big toys. 

We headed down to Victoria Street for some lunch, and it was awful with all the dust in the air from the digging up of the tram tracks. Grit in our eyes. Grit on our lips. Victoria Street was unusually deserted.

I had Pad Thai. It was really sweet. Sam had Hainanese Chicken Rice. We swapped half way through.

Victoria Street, looking west. They should absolutely make that vacant block on the right a park. All the old Asian woman who sell produce from their boxes in the street, would have a lovely place to hang out during the day, among others. It would transform the whole street scape into more of a village feel.

Perhaps, The NSW Bush Fire Victims Are Getting A Taste Of What They Voted For

I wonder if they are Coalition electorates burning in NSW? Just wondering. It would be interesting to work it out, I reckon.

Just a little taste of what their voting (stupidity) may be bringing to them in future?

Last month was the hottest month NSW has ever had, last summer was the hottest summer ever in Australia, breaking many weather records. And this is the earliest start to a bushfire season Australia has ever had. 

Climate change is here and it is influencing these bushfires, so repealing carbon pricing is quite possibly the worst thing we could do. 

Voting for a government that promises to repeal climate change mechanisms is, quite possibly, the second worst thing we could do.

In the words of Barack Obama, denying the reality of climate change is the equivalent of belonging to the Flat Earth Society.

There you go Flat Earthers.

The Afternoon Peak Hour

Walking home with Sam after work. It was a lovely afternoon. I had a conference all day on St Kilda Road. I met Sam after work at the La Trobe Street Hungry Jacks. He wouldn't let me eat any food once I got there because I'd taken so long in getting there and he'd finished eating his. "No." Push in the chest back out the door. The St Kilda Road tram, what a nightmare. They should so build that underground train line, the length of Swanston Street and St Kilda Road. The city needs it.

Buddy Checking His Mail

Buddy, the cutest dog on the planet, but I might be bias

 

Fucking Up the Inner Suburbs

The ugliness that property developers expose us to every day in the pursuit of lining their own bank accounts. This is a hideous development in Victoria Street Richmond, really awful.

The Inconvenient Truth

Apparently, the climate sceptics have won. The great unwashed wants to believe them, rather than the scientists, as it fits in with their budgets better. You know, fuck the orang-utans,  fuck the future of the children, let's repeal the mechanism that could possibly save us.

Beyond belief.

Everyone is so caught up thinking about themselves that they want to believe the people who say there is no problem. Yeah, good onya. (bucket, sand)

It is hard to believe?

What does Joe and Josie Blogs think is happening to the weather? What do they imagine the future of their children looks like?