PTELLO

Now after the Wentworth bloodbath bi-election, (chuckle)

Here’s a thought, now that the Liberal leadership requirements are at an all time low – who have they got, SCUMO that singing god botherer and Hateful Lurch – Peter Costello should throw his hat back in the ring, he’d be a shoe in, I reckon. Especially now that the lying little, (don’t say the word they don’t like it), John Howard (see what I did there, I didn’t have to say the word for you all now to be saying it in your heads) isn’t there to promise him one thing and then stab him in the back, like the true liberal mate that he is.

So, then Pete could go to his grave not being the mortally wounded, not being the eternally disappointed, that he is now. And the Liberal Party gets themselves a true leader. Chuckle. (Oh, I knew I wouldn’t be able to say that with a straight face)

And in some ways, it would be like getting the band back together, Abbott and Costello. Then we’d know it was deliberate, the comedy show that is the Liberal Party.

We could have PTELLO. It sounds a bit like a chocolate biscuit, now doesn’t it. Well, it would have to be shaped like a jelly fish, remembering Howard pissed all over him for years. (Now there’s an image to rival Trump in Russia)

Wentworth Bi-Election

If you want better government, send our current incompetent government a message with a vote for Labor.

It is the only way Australia is going to get better government.

SCUMO's Website

Too funny. Our Prime Minister, SCUMO, forgot to renew his website - and you trust this guy to run the country? Shake of the head - and some guy bought it and took it over and did this. Hit the link.

http://www.scottmorrison.com.au/

Funny First Thing

8am. Sam is sitting on the ottoman putting on his shoes just about to leave for work. "What is on your to-do list?"

My to-do list? I'll give you to-do list, I thought. "Be fabulous, I believe. Just be fabulous, that is all I have to achieve today, be fabulous," I said. "Being fabulous, as, I, speak."

Sam was just looking at me with "that" look, so I assumed he wanted more. (There seems to be an on-going dialogue about the, how shall we put it, the disparity of my 3 days and his 5 days)

"Oh, yes, and relax. Put your feet up. You have worked very hard over the last three days and you really deserve the next three days off. Relax, you deserve it. Enjoy."

Sam was still just looking at me, with no expression, he hadn't said a word. (Tough nut to crack, some mornings, my boyfriend)

More, I thought?

"And of course, the standard instruction, drink more coffee." I smiled. "Coffee is good for you." I sipped my coffee.

"I put some things on your schedule to ask the vet when you take Buddy to the vet this morning," said Sam. "I just wanted to make sure you had read them?"

"Oh," I said. "My schedule?" (Damn! I thought. I miscalculated that one)

Sam looked at me with lips of string.

"A hint?" I could feel my eyebrows rise.

"Your reminder list."

"And I would find that... (I knew where to find it, but I was beginning to enjoy the game) where?"

"Your phone." Exasperated look, mate.

"My phone," I said (like it was some great god damn revelation) "Of course."

I looked at Sam. Not even a scintilla of a smile. "My... phone." Big smile. "Good... to... know."

He kissed me and headed to the front door.

Boys in Shorts

With the weather warming up, you've got to love the clothes coming off.

Walking into the city this morning there were lots of guys in small black shorts; the guy crossing Spring Street with thighs like tree trunks with which you could crack nuts, with those tight shorts that appeared to be painted on; the tradies in Collins Street, the young spike-haired blondie with a gorgeous smile and the (only one with) long shorts, and a fresh face, the strapping boss wog guy with such tiny shorts that were so small I could nearly see what he had for breakfast, and the fine curve of his butt cheek, as I gazed back, and his side kick, 2IC, with his handsome face and his puppy dog eyes, and an arse like an Italian peach.

A whistle on my lips in the canyons of the CBD. Tra la la, I thought, as I looked from one to the other, with Mick Jagger singing in my ears.

I don't think there is a bad Rolling Stones album, just by the way.

To say it made me happy, is overstating it a bit, but you know...

Abortion Laws

It was one of those glorious sunny Melbourne spring days.

At the top of Little Bourke Street there were police and police cars everywhere. I mean everywhere. There was clearly a protest on. It seemed as though every policeman in Melbourne was in Spring Street.

We wandered over for a look.

There was a small group closest to us with two rows of police and many more police on the side lines separating them from the second group who were in the Spring Street, Bourke Street intersection.

It was about abortion.

The smaller group closest to us were the prochoice and the larger group further away were the anti-abortionists.

We listened to the pro-abortion group, they said that the other group were trying to take away women’s choice. They also said there needed to be separation between church and state.

We headed through the police lines and listened to the other group, who said they needed to get the law changed to save the babies. It is all about the children. Apparently, they have only until November to influence the vote to facilitate a change in the law.

Two things. They seemed to be confident that the Liberal Party would change the abortion laws.

The second thing is a question. What exactly do the Christians think they are going to get the abortion laws changed to? What? That it would become illegal for women to have an abortion? Really? Seriously, does anybody think that law would get passed?

Or do they think that the current law would be repealed? Would that mean we’d go back to the old system that abortion is illegal unless a doctor says it is in the best mental, or physical, interests of the mother to have an abortion. In effect, no change at all? Really? Would parliament go through the process to end back at that? Seriously, does anybody think that is likely?

So, really, the Christian rally against abortion laws really just amounts to the same slow speed dummy spit the Christians have been having since the laws were changed.

Give it up people, you lost. (And stop whining about the fact that most of the population doesn't believe what you believe.)

Change Your name

A girl in the office who recently got married said she is about to change her name. "I am just finalising the paperwork," she said. The girls gathered sighed in collective joy.

"I never understand why women change their names today," I said. "It is kind of outdated, isn't it?"

"Because that is what you do," said the just married girl. "Why would that be a problem, anyway?" Her well manicured eyebrows (I imagine she had them done for the wedding) lifted pointedly.

"Well, it is always a problem when they get divorced." Oh yes, I heard the collective inhale of breath from the gathered, I'm not deaf.

She twitched noticeably. "I don't plan to get divorced."

Was I going to go there, for a split second I wondered? "I'm sure that is what they all say," I said. Gay humour? You with your good bag and your cheap shoes. I'd like to call it gay realism, personally.

Well, apparently you can't say such things. There were audible tutt-tutts from the crowd. You could almost hear the thoughts forming into words, she has only just got married, for goodness sake.

Sheesh! I am only being honest, I thought. It's not like 50% of marriages in divorce, or anything.

I headed back to my office. Oh yes, I know, but sometimes I can't help myself. It is as if I just always have to tell my truth.

Where angels feared to tread, will be on my tombstone. Oh, no, it is just nice lying here, that will be on my tombstone.

It's true though, I've known quite a few female friends who have ended up not knowing what to call themselves. Some don't want to keep their ex-husbands name, but haven't wanted to go back to their maiden name. I've known two who didn't want their ex-husbands name any longer, but didn't want their father's name who they hated. If women just kept their names, like men do, this would not be an issue. 

I see women changing their names as something really out dated, like women still calling themselves miss, or who say they aren't feminists.

Of course, you may say that this is none of my business and, you know, you'd probably be right.

Schools Discriminating Against Gay Children

So our Prime Minister Scummo says schools being able to discriminate against gay students is already the law, so tell me why is it included in Ruddock's Religious Freedom report then?

#TouchAStraightBoyToday

So, the controversy swirling around now a days is that consent is a grey area, something really tricky for straight guys to grasp. It is a problem for straight boys, so say the #MeToo movement.

So here is how us gay boys can help. #TouchAStraightBoyToday. They'll soon get the hang of consent, I am really sure about that.

Sparkling Spring Days

Sparkling spring days

no complaints, 

who would?

Would you?

But, of course,

it means crazy hot

summer days

are on their way

Yay! 

Which sound okay,

until they are here.

Drink your beer.

Slip, slop and slap.

Wear a hat.

But we’ll get to that.

Sometimes An Apology Just won't Cut It.

If the straight world apologised for the rest of time - or until global warming gets us all, whichever comes first - it will never make up for what the straight world has done to the gay community in the past. Never.

Even today, we are still discriminated against by some.

 

Do you think they platform 9 3/4s'ed it? They FUB'd it. Everything but the shoes. Why not the shoes? They went to a place where shoes weren't allowed? Or not needed. Because they float on clouds, because they float on the purity of the air. Because you have a foot inspection as soon as you enter to make sure you carry no bacteria with you from one world to the next?

The Weekend

Buddy got two walks as it was a glorious day. Buddy got two walks today because both his owners are feeling like they need to do some exercise. Buddy is lying on the floor, I'm sure, exhausted thinking what the fuck?

It was a lovely day though. And thanks to daylight savings it is a gorgeous evening, long and lovely. You can smell the sparkling summer in the air. The freshest and the cleanliness, you can almost taste it on your lips. The summer newness somehow makes the air lighter and smoother on your body and your mind. Lovely. There is a lightness of being in summer that you don’t get in winter. Maybe it is just dryness of the air, less moisture, it doesn’t weigh as heavy.
-->

It has been a cold spring, but you can feel that has passed, you can feel it in the air.

It has been a sparkling few days

Beautiful Day

The weather is glorious today, it is one of those days when you just know that Melbourne is having the best weather of any where in the world.

Sublime.

Sam and I went out for lunch, we sat outside in the glorious sun. I paid for our meals with cash once we’d finished. The Millennial waiter seemed to be completely dumbfounded when I gave her this funny bendy plastic note. I’d seen her whipping out the eftpos machine earlier handling the tap and go with aplomb, but cash seemed to be foreign to her. She had to get the other millennial waiter to helper her with the cash register, with no success. They had to call the middle-aged manager from the kitchen to work the ‘whole cash thing” for them. They seemed to be most concerned that I was being inconvenienced with the delay. Not at all, I was fascinated. (and, of course, slightly nervous that I was being confirmed to be an old cash hag)

My Plot of Land

I was working up the back of my yard cutting up some pruning and putting in the bin, music in my headphones, the dappled sun all around me, I lay the secateurs down and gazed down my yard to the house.

This is my plot of land. In all of the world, this is it, this is my bit. This is the amount of land I have been able to secure for myself. If you like, this is the sum total of my entire lifetime's achievements, here, laid out in front of me in a physical representation.

I wondered what percentage of the world's surface it was? 😕 How much of the planet is mine? I imagine it is infinitesimal. Small enough to count on one hand, on a digit.

Funny the things you think with your hands in gardening gloves standing in the sun down the back yard.

The Fruit Bowl

We get a fruit bowl at work, every Monday and Wednesday. As I am one of the first into the office, I usually get the pick of the fruit. Usually, I take a couple of bananas and a couple of mandarins, which I eat during the morning, normally for morning tea, with my fifth coffee.

Just lately, I've been taking the bananas home and making banana cakes for Sam on my days off. I usually take a couple, but the last couple of weeks, I've found myself taking three bananas, as I normally need that many to make a banana cake. I've just been taking them without giving it much thought. 

Today, it crossed my mind that it was not really in the spirit of the fruit bowl to be taking the fruit home to make cake, as I took my last 3 bananas. I would just eat them anyway, I told myself. What difference does it... but, my Still Small Voice has been clearing its throat and saying it thinks it is wrong, annoyingly. A conscience is a terrible thing, no, really, it is. Oh damn. What was I thinking?

Rats.

Yes, I could just buy the bananas. How practical of you.

Worst Day of My Life

Jason has a wank sitting on the toilet in a cubicle at work. How many guys do you think have wank at work? Lot's, he guesses. It would be a guy-passing-time-at-work thing. He was pretty sure.

Some guy comes into one of the other cubicles just as he was getting going, so he stops and waits. He takes a crap, while he waits for the guy to leave, no use wasting time. See, boys can multitask. The other guy leaves soon enough, so Jason could continue wanking.

Adam’s chest, Andre's sweet butt, Seamus's face. Licking, fingering, kissing. Even Andre's chest. Head spins, dizzy heights. Shakes, sweats, the universe inverting, king of the world, top of the heap, number one!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! 

He was sure he could hear the Doctor Who theme, as he threw his head back and did the silent scream boys have done since the beginning of time.

It was good, very satisfying, just what he needed. He basks in the post-wank euphoria.

When he is done, he stands up and pulls his trousers up.

He flushes the toilet. He opens the cubicle door. He heads out to the basins.

“Oh?” He turns on the hot tap. But… but… something didn’t feel right. He shakes his head, as he shakes the water from his hands. 

He heads back out into the office. 

One step, two steps. Oh. He knows what is wrong. He forgot he’d taken a dump.

“Oh… er… noooooooooo!”

He hadn’t wiped his arse.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

No more big weekends, he thinks to himself, next.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

There is no coming back from that.

“Ah.”

Couldn’t even pull his knickers out of his crack, he didn’t dare.

“Worst day of my life,” he told me later.

He could see the nauseating Jenny, from HR, heading towards him, and she was difficult to deal with even when things were good.

“Have you seen Rob?”

“No Jenny, I haven’t.”

Jenny kind of does a double take. “You, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“You look like you’ve just discovered your puppy is dead.”

Yeah, in the back of my undies, he thinks. “No, I’m good.” He voice unexpectedly shot up an octave

He is backing away from Jenny even without thinking about it.

Jenny looks quizzically at him. “Okay,” she says. She walks off.

Oh fuck, what a loser, he thinks to himself.

Momentarily, he freezes, not knowing what to do. 

“You idiot,” he says to himself.

He turns around and walks stiffly back to the toilet. He heads straight into the cubicle and slams the door.

He slid his trousers down, and his undies fast, all in one motion. His cock flops about in mid air.

“Oh.” There was damage, but it isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. “What to fucken do?”

He wipes his arse, that was the first step.

And the undies? His favourite Calvin Klein undies. No, he couldn’t put them back on. What to do with them? 

They have unisex toilets in their office, and in the corner of each was that grey plastic box, which he had some idea what it was for? Well, um? He slid his soiled undies into it.

Job done, he thinks.

He pulls his trousers up and leaves the toilet once again, going commando, making sure to wash his hands on the way out.

He walks across the office to his desk.

One of the things about Jason is that he is blessed with a big todger, it developed from a young age. The guys he played footy with at school called him burrito, because of it. It was one of the things the guys since he left school really liked about him. 

Jason isn’t used to going commando, he’s not ever done it, it just isn’t something he’s done. Being a big, uncut lad, his appendage was kind of sensitive, in fact very sensitive, which he finds back in the office that morning.

His big dick becomes very apparent to him flopping around in the leg of his trousers. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling. He is quite surprised how good it feels. His knob rubs against the inside of the fabric and he finds himself in a state of semi arousal, quite unexpectedly, from that moment of disaster on that morning.

Again, worst day of my life.

“But, hadn’t you just had a tug in the dunnies, which was the catalyst for this fuck up.”

“Yeah, I had.”

“So, shouldn’t it have been, you know, kind of calm down there?”

“Yeah, well, you’d reckon, wouldn’t you, but someone should have told you know who that?”

“Who?”

He looked down at his crotch.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, little Jason didn’t get that memo, apparently.”

Jason finds that he couldn’t walk too far around the office without getting a full on boner, after he went jockless.

It got worse. Apparently, HR Jenny had observed Jason being awkward in the office, and she asks him to go into her office to have a chat.

Jason stands at Jenny’s desk, with his hand’s strategy placed over his crotch covering his fullon hardon. He hopes it isn’t obvious.

“I just wanted to check that you really are okay.”

“Yeah, sure, I am. Why?”

“You just don’t seem to be your normal self.”

It must be a slow day in HR, Jason thinks. “No, I’m really fine, really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Jason could feel his hard shaft in his hand, thinking that it was really a weird situation.

Jenny holds his gaze, she hesitates, and then says, “Okay then, if you are sure.”

“Yeah sure, thanks for asking though.”

Jason heads quickly back to his office and sits down.

At lunch time, he heads out to a clothing shop and buys a new pair of jocks.

Coffee Snob?

Why would you have instant coffee when there is a coffee machine in the kitchen? I saw some guy making an instant cuppa today, at work. The mind boggles. We have a great coffee machine.

I was surprised anyone drank instant any more. People really drink instant coffee? Am I a coffee snob?

Oh yes, I know, people should be able to have what they want without criticism. Live and let live. No judgement. But, really? In Melbourne too, the coffee capital of Australia.

My mind boggles.

The Mention of Jesus

"Why does the mention of Jesus drive that woman so crazy?"

"That's because she has to drink until he returns."

"Drink?"

"Yes, drink daily, until he returns?"

"Why does she have to drink?"

"To calm her nerves."

"To calm her nerves?"

"To calm her nerves," he said. 

"To calm her nerves?"

"Do you know how hard it is on your nerves waiting for your chosen god, who is never going to return, to return?"

"Well, yes, I guess, it would be a thing."

“A thing.”

“Now that you mention it.

“Indeed.”

“Waiting for something to happen…”

“Which never is.”

"And to forget, of course."

"To forget?"

"To forget that he hasn't returned?'

“When he hasn’t returned.”

“Disappointing, to say the least.”

“Pour me another one, Smithy.”

“You’d better make it a double.’

“Because there is a long wait to be had.”

“Possibly the rest of her life.”

“The rest of her life.”

“For it not to happen.”

“Never to happen.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“Do you think she knows?”

“Deep down on some elemental level.”

“This is all a very elemental level.”

“This is.”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“Now that you mention it.”

“Very disappointing.”

“All that waiting.”

“And it may never happen.”

“Never happen.”

“Very disappointing.”

“I guess that is why.”

“That is why.”

“There is nothing left to do.”

“Nothing to do but wait.”

“And…”

“And…”

"Drink?"

"A lot of drink."

"But no dancing..."

"No. Are you kidding? Dancing is ungodly."

"But drinking while waiting for a god, that is never going to return, to return is not ungodly?"

"Of course not, how do you think the Christians have got through the last 2000 years?"

Trash Current Affairs

Has anyone else noticed that on the promos for A Current Affair Tracey Grimshaw looks like a blow up doll?

Do you remember when she faced off with Gordon Ramsay, he said things she didn't like, and she too offence.

I never really knew if that was real, or a beat up, it was, after, kind of both their schtick, the both of them. They both really engage in trash talk to sell their wares, now don't they.

Do you ever really know? What's real, and what's cooked up by smart young things in the writer's/advertising room?

Not Funny Kitty

Am I the only person who doesn't think Kitty Flanagan is all that funny? I mean she is funny’ish. Kind of funny. She’s not totally unfunny. She, is a very popular comic, she is not without her fans, obviously. 

We Need A New Australia Day. We Need A New Flag

Australia Day. Most people don't even know what the date represents, so just change it.

(like we need to change the flag)

An Abomination

I thought brown shoes worn with a blue suit was an abomination, (there is a whole rash of that going on) but today I saw a blue suit, brown shoes and pale green argyle socks. 

Dear god man, don’t you dress in front of a mirror?

Burt and Ernie are gay

Self Fat-Shaming, I Guess?

Apparently, if you call yourself fat it can be offensive to others? Who knew?

Well, buckle up snowflakes, last time I got on the scales I was pushing 90 kilos, which in my mind makes me

Fat

Fat

Fat

Fat

Fat

Scott Morrison is an Idiot

This is what our ignoramus of a Prime minister, Scott Morison, said, (you really can't write this stuff)

“Angus (Taylor, Energy Minister) is bringing back a package of things right now to see how we can get greater investment in what I call fair dinkum power, that’s the stuff that works when the sun doesn’t shine and wind doesn’t blow.”

Fair dinkum power, really? Idiot.

Mean While

In America, Author of How to Murder Your Husband charged with murdering her husband

Eartha

 

Six Months

9.30am. I am at the dentist, 6 monthly clean, first time for a long time with the lady dentist. I work now, I can no longer go Wednesdays. Not so long ago, I could go to the dentist any day, I miss those days. I had to give the old man dentist up. I never knew his name.

The water pick is hideous, all those sensitive spots, she is headed right for them, on to them, over them. The zing only lasts milliseconds, though. The anticipation is worse than the actual. Relax. Try not to tense up, that makes it worse. My fingers twitch. You think you are going to go through the roof, but you don’t. None of it is pleasant, but you get through it, with only a crick neck and twitching toes, in the end.

“No holes, they look good, except for that one tooth.”

“Yes, I know.”

I've got one dodgy tooth, that the dentists have been saying for 10 years that it will need to come out one day.

Smith Street Fitzroy, lovely blue sky

Declan

The twenty year old accounts boy, at work, he's really cute, as a button. His dad is Vietnamese, his mum, Italian. Nuggety. He comes in in his motorbike gear, looking like a porn star.

He wears those tight blue suit pants, I can't help but notice when we are at the photocopier together. That hot arse. 

I've pictured him in his undies. Twice I've headed off to the toilet, after that thought.

I've imagine licking him out, looking out of the corner of my eyes, as the machine whirls masks any intensions I might have. 

I really would like to put a finger inside him, listen to him groan, as I feel him all wet around my longer finger.

Feel the hairs in his crack, as he pushes back.

"I like it," he says, in that husky voice of his, as he pushes his back into my chest.

I'd do him on all fours, blue slacks around his ankles, his business shirt push into his arm pits, as I kissed his neck. He gets the back of his head shaved.

I'd cum inside him, I'd have to, he's is just that size.

Cute as a fucken button. Soccer playing thighs, slender back. It is known, in the office, he lift weights.

Guido came over with a joint. Can you tell? 

Here's a Bag On Your Foot

There’s not much room between the seats on those new trams, that is for sure. A woman got on with a carry bag – the type of carry bag you might get from a high end shop – sitting down facing me, sitting the bag down on my foot. I looked at her, she didn’t react. I moved my foot, and her carry bag moved, kind of wobbled. So, she took hold of the handle to make sure the bag was secure, moving it back onto my foot. 

I looked at her, she didn’t react. So, I moved my foot and, again, her bag moved. She reached down to secure her bag and, again, moved it back onto my foot. 

I moved my foot from under the bag, for a third time, it wobbled, and she moved it back onto my foot yet again. (We could do this all day, I thought) 

I looked at her, she was completely oblivious. Not a clue. The bag wasn’t heavy, so I just sat there with the bag on my foot, until she got off the tram, a stop before me.

Chivalry

Chivalry existed because women were considered the weaker sex.

Woman are no longer believed to be the weaker sex.

Chivalry no longer makes sense.

 

Dishonest Corporate Culture, or Just Something Different For Brekky

I went to Coles and to get muffin ingredients and cereal for the week, as I was out of muesli, but I felt like something different to muesli just for a change. How many years have I eaten homemade muesli and finally I am sick of it? I just couldn’t face it. You know when you think of something and your stomach just says no to you. That is what happened, I was somewhat surprised. It has been my staple breakfast for longer than I can remember.

I stood in the cereal aisle and looked at the cereals intending to choose something nice and sweet and sugary. White chocolate blocks with cranberries. Mixed fruit sugar puffs with freeze dried strawberry essence. Pistachio praline fingers with woven wheat pillows and honey. You know the kind of thing? However, while I was standing there, at least, five people walked up, pretty girls, not that that counted for too much with me, and they all got a box of Weetabix. One, two, three, four, five. One after the other. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, I thought, and I got Weetabix too. 

I’ve been eating them all week with honey, and they are lovely. 

Real honey, well as far as you can tell what is real honey. I mean, you can’t trust any big corporations claims now a days, especially food companies. They all lie. The whole honey scandal is outrageous. We think we are buying pure honey and most of it turns out not to be. But, the label says it is pure honey.

We need legislated food labelling, that is now clear. Self regulation simply doesn't work.

Of course, then the labelling lobby groups will pay off the politicians and we probably won’t be any better off. But, you know, you have got to try, now don’t you.

Meeting Up With An Old School Mate

I stumbled across the email address of my best mate from school, Andrew, and in a moment of 'think it, do it' madness, [thank you David] I sent him an email. 

A number of years ago, my school boyfriend, from years 11 and 12, and a year after we left school, Alex, died and I have never known how he died. (I have written about him previously) 

I asked Andrew that question, the subtext for which he is unaware, at present. 

Andrew and Alex both remained involved in the school over the years since we left, on committees and what have you. Alex got married and had sons, Andrew has sons, they sent them to our school, of course, so I knew Andrew would know the details of Alex's death.

Andrew was blown away, said he had never wanted to lose touch with me. He said he knew the answer to the question but he would only answer the question once I was sitting in front of him drinking coffee with him. He gave me all his numbers to contact him. 

But now, I have had some time to think about it, I seem to have lost my nerve, stupidly.

I haven't seen Andrew since we left school.

Despite the fact that I live a completely ‘out’ life in everything that I do, meeting up with my old school buddy seems like coming out all over again. Not to mention telling him about Alex and me. Which I intended to do. 

But, Andrew, if I was so important, why didn’t you keep in contact?  I know why I didn’t keep in contact? Being gay. But why didn’t you. If you never meant to lose contact?

(Yeah, I know, life happens)

Yesterday, and today, were my days off and I was supposed to phone Andrew to meet up, but I wimped it. Stupid me. So stupid really, Andrew is a lovely guy and he will only react in a positive way, I would think. It is just an energy drain, I feel exhausted by it before I have even tried.

Not to worry, I'll get my mojo together about it shortly. I want to see the look on his face. Actually, I only really wanted the answer to the question, what happened to Alex? But, if I have to find out the difficult way, by exposing myself, so to speak, I guess I can do that too.

I started walking again and I found out why the traffic has been bananas in Fitzroy lately, Nicholson Street is shut down for tram track replacement.

I be lying if meeting up with an old school mate wasn't the inspiration for getting out there and exercising my fat arse.

The blue sky was gorgeous. Working again threw my exercise routine. I've been thinking about it for weeks, just getting back into it.

Orange Triumph motor bike, cool isn't it.

Sometimes When I Wee

Sometimes when I wee, at the very moment the wee is about to leave me, I can be transported back to the very moment I was woken as a child as I wet the bed in the night. It is like a momentary black out, a transportation, or a dream, it is really weird. I come to and it is me as an adult standing there having to justify to myself that it is okay to piss.

It happened today at work. It is really off-putting. A momentary lapse. A waking hallucination. A break in the time line continuum. I am back there in bed as a child unable to stop myself from wetting the bed, momentarily. Shake of the head.

I don't know what demons are at work there. Some, I presume.

Sense8

I'm liking Sense8. It's a bit slow but, thinking about that, it is a good thing. I felt hooked from the beginning.

They played the song What's Up by 4 Non Blondes. I love that song, I played it as I stepped out the front gate on Monday morning, it put a spring in my step. Try it.
I listened to the rest of the 4 Non Blondes music.

We've seen the cute German guy's cock, he with his blond hair and blue eyes and cute smile. And the cute Spanish guy in his undies, a bit to neat in his undies though. You need to be a bit dirt in your undies. We've just got to see the cute American guy and the cute African guy undressed.

I'm liking Netflix.

Trump's America

Getting Wood

I was up at 7.30am. 

I am totally and utterly addicted to my laptop. When I write stuff about people being obsessed with their phones, remember that. Every move I make, practically, involves my laptop. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning is switch it on, the first thing I do when I come home in the afternoon is switch it on, the last thing I do in the day is switch it off. I hardly have an hour at home unless it involves my laptop. I don’t remember a time when my laptop wasn’t the focus of my life. (Well, I do, that is why I am writing this, I guess) I don’t really remember that other life. What did I do with my time? My laptop is my sole focus.

Of course, I do switch it off from time to time. I do leave it occasionally.

We took Buddy to the dog park. I think there was a Keeshond there. We thought it was a cream coloured Chow, (from a distance) to add to the other, lovely, chows that come to the dog park, but no blue tongue, when we got closer. It was very excitable and playful.

We walked out the back of the dog park with Buddy cooperating somewhat, translation he only rolled onto his side and stuck his legs in the air and refused to go once, after that he was good. Once he gets used to a new way, he is fine, but to start with a new route is not to his liking. Oh no. We walked around Brunswick Street, Johnson Streets and back up our street, so we all get some exercise instead of standing in the middle of the reserve.

The sun shone. It was a nice morning.

So, I’d organised from where to get the some more wood, but we had to go and pick it up ourselves. In all the ringing around, I realised the big, wog guy is not over charging for his wood. Good to know. Well, you can never be too sure now a days.

We got to Keon Park just after midday. It looked like the place you’d go to buy your meth, or get your grandma's car re-birthed, after you’d removed it from the garage in her first year of her dementia without telling the rest of the family, to pay for your meth. GTI hatchbacks are meant to be doing 200ks on an autobahn, not used as mules to cart wood, but we loaded it up with wood none the less.  It is the only car we have. Jill suggested hiring a ute from Bunnings, but Jill would suggest that.

When we were done the guy running to place asked, “So how much do you think you got?”

I said, "Dunno."

He said, “Make it $80 then.”

I should have said, “$50 worth.” He may have just come at it, who knows? I never think fast enough to do such things. We are all too self-conscious. What is it they say, fortune favours the bold. But I didn’t think of that until we were half way to Preston.

We ate dumplings in High Street Preston. Sam went in to order and the food usually takes some time. There was a chemist Warehouse across the road, which I saw from the restaurant door, and I needed a script filled, which I had with me but had left in the car. We parked a fair way up a side street and I went back to the car to get my script. It started raining as soon as I got to the car and I had to run all the way back to High Street in the rain. It was that kind of rain that just got harder and harder the more I ran in it and there was not shelter to be had from it. It felt like I was never going to get out of it. (Still, the rest of the country is in drought so can't complain too much)

Chemist Warehouse was soooo slow. The customers just seemed to be pushing in all the while, despite having beepers. I wasn't sure if it was because of the slow service, or the state of mind of the customers? I’ve never waited so long for a script to be filled.

The dumplings were heading towards cold by the time I got back to Sam sitting at a table full of food. Lovely though none the less.

I looked in Cash Converters for CDS, speaking of addictions. They had none I wanted. Sam shopped for food in the Preston Market while I looked. Then we rendezvoused back at one of the Chinese shop in High Street where Sam bought roast pork for dinner.

We got cat food at the pet shop in High Street. The cute son was there. The father had to get us the large bag of cat food out the back. Several times the cute son asked, “Is he still getting it out for you.” I couldn’t help but think, I wish you’d get it out for me.

We parked in front of a white 205 GTI. I told Sam I wanted to buy one. He said it was awful. No accounting for taste.

The traffic on High Street was bad, what a surprise. Saturday is peak hour now a days, no fucker stays home any more. The traffic everywhere in Melbourne's inner suburbs is bad. (Thank you Matthew Guy for ruining the city) I can already hear the politicians in a few years, when the inner suburbs of Melbourne are in gridlock on the weekends and we don’t even crack it for the last place on the world’s most liveable city. “Oh yeah, we got the planning wrong in the early 2000s, didn’t we?” They’ll say sipping cocktails from their property developers resorts. “We could have done that better.”

So, we sneaked around the back way. Stott Street, Herbert Street, Westbourne Grove, Park Street, (I think you could also go Dalziel Lane. I’m looking at google maps now, normally I am just speeding along not at all concerned what the street is called, just as long as we keep moving forward) Charles Street, momentarily and then back onto Park Street, (Oh, it looks like South Park Street. Who wouldn’t want to live in South Park Street) Left onto Westgarth Street. (This is where you can encounter some traffic, but don’t worry you are not on Westgarth Street for long) Right onto Rucker Street, (left onto Cunningham, right onto McLachlan Street) if the traffic on Westgarth is bad, otherwise keep going to McLachlan Street, down to Walker Street (don’t go up Cunningham Street, it will take you no where you want to go) Walker Street will take you a round about way back to High Street, and then you turn right. (It looks like Phillips Court turning into Hales Court will also get you to High Street, but I haven’t gone that way) And then there is usually no traffic after from there. Traffic avoided. It is the intersection of Westgarth and High Street that causes all the traffic. What they have done to the street there at the shops is ludicrous. It is the problem that really needs to be fixed. 

So, that is the way you can speed through the back streets of Thornbury/Northcote to avoid the shitty traffic problems on High Street.

Sam asked me why he always felt exhausted driving with me.

“Because there are so many fools to straighten out on the road,” I reply. Every second driver seems to be an idiot. I blame the 50 kph, 40 kph, speed limits. Drivers are now so confused they default to 40 kph. It is really annoying.

It was raining on and off.

Home by 3pm. We lit a fire, naturally. What else do you do when you have new wood?

We started watching An Awfully Big Adventure, a Hugh Grant film I bought in St Marks op-shop on Thursday, but it was dreadful and I fell asleep and Sam turned it off.

We ate roast port and Bok Choi for dinner.

Sam watch something dreadful on the development of batteries for the new world energy requirements. (I should be interested in this, it is the future, after all)

We watched Sense8. There are cute boys in Sense8. Sam was glued to his iPad and he told me to choose. Buff American boy, German boy, Spanish boy, and African boy, what is there not to like.