Lots Of Rain

7am. Brun and I head downstairs.

Sam, the handsome policeman, has sent me the details of the person who backed into my car. I must call her up. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, blah, blah, blah.”

Excuse me if I’m not all that forgiving. I have to go and get 2 quotes and then I have to take my car to be repaired and be without out it while that happens. 

Be more careful in future.

7.45am. Sam was up.

I read the news. 

Victorian Powerball winner $40 million richer. I read all about her reaction, and think she is sowing the seeds to the destruction of her life and she has no idea she is doing it.

An Echuca woman confessed her whole body went numb at the revelation she’d become $40 million richer after winning division one in last night’s Powerball draw.

The victorious Victorian winner held the only division one winning entry nationally in Powerball draw 1394 on Thursday, 2 February, and took home the entire $40 million jackpot.

The $40 million win is also the largest division one prize won across any Australian lotteries game in 2023.

When confirming her incredible win with an official from The Lott, the winning player confessed she was completely shocked by her new multi-millionaire status.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I can’t believe it. I thought it was a scam!” she exclaimed.

“This just doesn’t feel real. How do I know if this is real?!

“I’m so nervous, I feel really bizarre. My whole body has gone numb!

“My husband and I couldn’t sleep at all last night. We were pacing back and forth.

“I’m at work right now, and that’s why it took a little longer for me to answer my phone.

“This is really going to take some time to sink in. It won’t feel real until the money is in my bank account.

“My husband and I have these goals in place and were wondering how we were going to achieve them, but now we don’t have to worry anymore!

“I can’t believe this is happening!”

The Victorian might be spending her last days at work after announcing the windfall will allow her to quit her job and spend more time with her family.

“My god, I can quit my job!” she joyfully yelled.

“I can take some time off to spend with my family.

“We will be able to pay off the mortgage completely and set ourselves up for the future.

“We want this win to go a long way. We want to leave a legacy for our family for years to come!

“This means everything to me. Thank you so much.”

The winning PowerHit entry was purchased online at thelott.com - the official home of Australia’s lotteries.

The winning numbers in Powerball draw 1394 on Thursday, 2 February 2023 were 7, 35, 31, 2, 24, 21 and 15. The all-important Powerball number was 18.

All I could think was, stop talking, luv. The only way you are going to survive this win is to keep it to yourself. Don’t tell anyone.

And, I’d be good with it, I’d have the ability to tell no one. I would. I have an amazing ability to keep my mouth shut, when I need to.

February 3, 1959, the plane crashed shortly after takeoff, killing 22-year-old Holly, the Big Bopper, Richie Valens and the pilot Roger Peterson.

Porn actor John Holmes was ordered to stand trial for the so-called Wonderland murders on February 3, 1982. He was later acquitted.

Is Putin’s grip on Russia starting to slip? Some US experts thinks so.

That right wing Canadian deluded, Jesus lover, Jordan Peterson, is spreading climate denying propaganda.

How London got its first LGBTQ+ retirement community.

8am. I made coffee and porridge with fresh peaches. Sam bought, hard peaches not long ago, that have ripened into the most gorgeous fruit.

8.15am. Charlie was up. He made himself breakfast. Bacon and cheese covered rolls. He turned down the offer of leftover risotto for lunch. “I don’t think he likes risotto,” said Sam.

“Oh well, all the more for us.”

“I think he thinks it is too much like porridge.”

8.30am. I made more coffee.

Brun was fed. He went out for a wee.

I fed the gold fish in the pond.

10am. It rained. Brun stayed cuddled up next to me on the couch.

10.15am. I wasn’t going to waste the day, but I started to collected more Peter Hujar, Jim French and Christopher Marcos images. And once I start, I find it is really addictive. And suddenly the morning just drifts away. I really love brutal modern images of life all around us.

The sun tried to shine again. It came out, but it disappeared and it rained again really quickly. That was the morning on repeat.

Then it was11.11am, my hour of the day. And the sun came out brightly. And the morning had nearly disappeared. I got up. Shook my head. I should do something, I really should. I ran outside to gage what I should put on? Shorts. I charged upstairs and changed to take Brun for a walk. I came back downstairs, I grabbed my shoes and socks, sliding them on quickly.  I got my head phones and my phone. I grabbed Brun’s lead and harness and… and… and... I looked to see the rain started to fall again on the glass roof. 

I stopped in my tracks. “Damn,” I said out loud.

“Oh?”

Defeated.

I got back on the couch, threw the blanket over my bare legs, and Brun lay down again on the part of the woollen blanket draped over my feet and the floor.

Sam was in a meeting and didn’t want to be disturbed.

I continued collecting George Platt Lynes and Leon Levinstein photos and Frederick Mershimer art works. Images I like, which I mostly use as wallpaper on my laptop.

All morning I have sat on my arse collecting antique photos. Yes, indeed, a productive use of my morning.

It really poured with rain a couple of times, really heavily.

12.20pm. We walk Brun to the ramen shop for lunch. The rain had stopped, the sun had come out. I anticipated that the rain might stop long enough for us to eat lunch. Sam wanted to leave Brun at home. I always want to take him to lunch.

Smith Street is wet, the rain falls softly.

12.43pm. We’re at the ramen shop sitting outside in the cold with Brun, hoping it’s not going to rain too heavily in the foreseeable future.

The rain has now stopped. Lovely.

A black lab comes along sniffing Brun’s arse in a stealth act before Brun sees the Lab. Brun jumps around.

12.47pm. The rain starts falling again. It’s really now too wet to sit outside as the rain splashes in on us under the awning.

12.50pm. The rain stops again.

1.05pm. We’ve finished lunch.

Sam walks ahead.

1.11pm. Brun and I are waiting out the front of Woolies while Sam shops.

The black Lab comes out of Woolies and again stealthily sniffs Brun’s arse again. Brun jumps to his feet, but the Lab is gone.

Two super cute, blemish free, baby tradies, in shorts, and smooth, tanned legs, come out of Woolies. They’d cum as soon as you touched them, I think. They stand and chat with their smiley faces. I bet they’d both jerked off already today, I think.

A bleach blonde middle aged woman in a red puffer jacket, or was it leather, with a fake tan complexion who looked like she had smoked too many cigarettes in her day, stops and says how beautiful Brun is. She must be a bit deaf, as she asks me Brun’s name straight after I have told her. Then she asks me what kind of dog he is, again, directly after I have told her. It is a very odd kind of reverse echo.

A chick stands next to me and yaps into her phone and I am tempted to point out she is speaking on a mobile phone and that she could continue her conversation anywhere but next to me, but she finishes her conversation and heads into Woolies as I am contemplating what I might say to her.

Sam reappears at 1.18pm.

A German Short-haired Pointer and Brun sniff arses outside Massina. Both us owners fain embarrassment as the dogs sniff each other’s dicks.

The fliers are starting to reappear taped to the power poles, I pull them all down again. Oh yes, mean old me. But I hate all those tatty flyers hanging off power poles en mass. On my kinder days, I look to see if we’d past the advertised date, just to be nice, you understand, but today I just pull them all down, fuck the dates. They are visual pollution, wrapped around ever pole in sight if I just leave them up, especially since the people who put them up, are never as diligent pulling them down as they are papering the poles in the suburb.

We’re home at 1.40pm.

The rain came down heavily. Then stopped again.

2.10pm. The sun shines brightly.

There are so many things I should be doing. House insurance. Call the chick who baked into my car. Quotes to get it fixed. Roof guy. Heating guy.

I think about all those things I should be doing for a minute, or two, and then, honestly, I get distracted again. Oh, fuck it, its nearly the weekend, nothing is going to get done now.

I was going to write stuff today, poetry, I was going to work on my poems, and I wasn’t going to save any more antique B&W images, but I saved the images and wrote nothing.

We ate leftover risotto.

We watched some kind of stupid American animated piece of shit called. Sing 2. Oh dear. It had good songs in it. It clearly had Bono on board to write music for it. But it was formulaic shit, really.

11.11pm. We go to bed.

I watched WatchJRGo and his S type Jag.

I watched Coldwarmotors and his 37 Chevy.

Lights out at 12.10am.

Energy Prices

We shouldn't forget, the current gas crisis, in fact the whole energy price problem, is a result of privatisation. There was a reason why essential services were owned and run by the government.

What was it again that, mostly conservative, governments said when they privatised the energy industry. Private enterprise can deliver cheaper prices because of increased competition. 

And now we are all enjoying the cheaper energy prices of privatisation.

Pissing My Life Away

I dreamt that Scott Morrison was my boss. He kept ringing me but wouldn’t speak when I answered the phone. Just silence. He kept ringing. And he wouldn’t speak. I’d hang up. Then he’d ring again. And silence. I would speak either, because I knew who it was. I’d hangup and walk away. The phone would ring again. I knew it was him. Why won’t he stop ringing? The phone would keep ringing, if I didn’t answer. 

Welcome to my nightmare. 

Was that the dream before my 3am piss, or after it? I can’t remember. I’ve been having full on dreams lately, more fullon than normal. I always try to remember them when I wake up, but it is like trying to catch water in your hands.

8am. Brun and I head downstairs. Moments later Sam joins us.

8.30am. I make coffee. Sam feeds Brun.

9am. I make apple and cinnamon hot cross buns, thanks to David, and more coffee.

9.30am. I message Mark.

I had a chest xray last week because I keep getting pains in my chest, but it is nothing new, as I have had 2 gastroscopies in the last few years and this is just to rule out anything else. And since the doctor hasn’t rung this week, I think I can assume there is nothing wrong. It’s just middle aged man sore chest syndrome, apparently. Did you know there was such a thing? Probably what you had? David has just been staying in his all consuming jabba the hut kind of way. She left yesterday. My next door neighbours have a new puppy and they have gone and left it in its incessant I-don’t-like-this all day barking. And my maidenhair ferns have sooty mould. How are you?

Mark said…

Haha...nicely encapsulated...

I was only thinking about you an hour ago when I was out potting up some more lettuce and using Eskimo's (Eskimo is their Mastiff dog) fur as possum deterring mulch, and wondering how you are, so spooky.

I have my good days and bad days, depending how hard I work, still getting intermittent nerve pains in different parts of my torso, my right arm went numb and tingly for 5 minutes yesterday and that's always a bit disconcerting, but I did spend 3 hours shovelling mulch yesterday at Jane’s place, so a pinched nerve is probably the culprit, I think once you’ve had a major operation when something goes wrong with your body, it’s hard not to worry that something else is going on, but I press on regardless, pushing myself to the limits of my endurance, just to prove to myself that I'm still functioning as a 35 year old, if that takes me out, so be it...

We’re having a normal summer now, sunny days with high humidity and afternoon storms, quite pleasant really, and the garden and lawns are looking quite spectacular, so that's pleasing, especially when I can escape into the air-conditioned house for a break, knowing our solar panels are providing free electricity, so life is ticking along quite nicely.

Looking forward to returning to Hanoi home in March, will be so lovely to be back with the extended family, I’ve really missed the life that we have there.

I said…

I wish you didn’t live so far away

I’d pop over for a visit

Mark said…

Yes, that would be lovely, but there is always da plane da plane....

I said…

Mr. Roarke

The gay boy’s new dog, my neighbours 3 doors down, whined and yapped and complained all morning. Brun kept stepping out onto the back veranda and looking in the whining direction with a head tilt, or two. That was until about 11am when it stopped. It was as though someone came home around that time. Maybe they did? Do I say something to them, I wonder? Well, they won’t know the dog’s an auditory menace if nobody tells them, I think. But I risk sounding like the complaining neighbour if I do. Nyr! What can you do?

11.30am. I stopped soaking my finger in warm salt water and put Betadine on it. Eventually it gets really tiring doing everything one handed, infection, or not.

I started saving Will McBride images. They are just for me to have and enjoy. I’m never going to reproduce them anywhere, so I don’t give a toss about copywrite.

Sam went to the supermarket, he was back at midday with lunch stuff. I am spoilt getting my lunch cooked for me every day. Why would I want to go back to the office?

I pissed my day off away again. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t do that, but the only thing promises are good for is breaking. I so told myself I would be productive and that I would get all those things I had to do, done. Re negotiate the house insurance, but I still have until 7th. Find a roof plumber, oh, who can you trust? Get a quote to repair the car, oh, bored already. Repaint the toilet where that water damage occurred. Get the glass roof panel replaced. Learn a language. Ha ha. Sweep up the back courtyard, now, that at least is slightly therapeutic, put on your headphones with some music.

I was going to write one short story a month, that was my new year’s ish , kind of, if I made new year’s resolutions, resolution, that seemed immanently doable, but no, I haven’t done that. I haven’t written any fiction recently. Just Youtube.

I’ve been collecting old B&W photos of my favourite photographers of the 20th Century. That’s all I have been doing. Grrr. Still, they are nice too.

3.45pm. I go have a shower. It has been a couple of days. The joys of working from home, hey? Track suit pants and greasy hair until I can’t stand myself any longer.

It started to rain. It rained a lot. Summer has slipped away again and we are back to wet weather. I was going to take Brun for a walk, but it rained.

We ate risotto for dinner. I started it, but Sam finished it. I made some excuse about my infected finger being too sore for all that stirring, which Sam bought. He seemed to have it made quicker than it ever takes me anyway.

It continued to rain.

We watched TaskMasters. Nyr? Ah? Really? Just another vehicle for our so called television celebrities. Yawn. Just another type of reality TV show.

8ish. Sam took Brun for a walk. Taskmasters whitters on as I collect more antique B&W photographs.

Sam watched Philomena Cunk. I’m not really so keen on her, sometimes she makes me laugh, sometimes she doesn’t so I put in my headphones and watch YouTube. I watched WatchJRGo and his S type Jaguar.

I bought a Racing Cars CD 30th anniversary. I listen to it on YouTube, as I watch some time elapse weight loss journeys of some young guys.

10.45pm. We went to bed.

It was cold like winter suddenly in Melbourne.

Lights out at 11.11pm.

David Leaves Us

6.30am. I was up. I’d had full on dreams none that I could remember as soon as I was awake. I hate that as I always want to write them down. The day was already light.

6.45am. I switch on my work computer.

Milo comes in his cat door. “Meow, meow.” He rubs against my legs.

7.20am. Sam was up. He tells me how restless Brun was last night after I fell asleep, wanting to head downstairs for a pooh. (Ha ha, so dedicated to the bear) David was downstairs watching ‘Wednesday’ after midnight when they came down. 

Brun then immediately went straight back downstairs as soon as he and Sam had got back upstairs again. So, Sam left Brun with David when Brun didn’t seem to want to head back upstairs. But pretty soon after that, the baby bulldog's face was back upstairs at the bedroom door.

Sam would have hated this, as he hates his sleep being disturbed. Sometimes he gets cross if I take too long to say, “Good night, sweet dreams,” when he has already fallen asleep.

Sam and I are normally asleep within minutes of turning out the light. We never understand when friends say they have trouble sleeping.

Brun makes an appearance.

7.45am. 15% off gift card at Coles and Sam is straight out that door. “You hardly ever get 15% off,” he says. “You could buy a laptop with those gift cards, with 15% off.” Sam loves nothing more in life than a bargain.

I soaked my still infected finger in salt water, as I drank my morning coffee and read the news. 

Are the protests at George Pell’s funeral tomorrow legal, the Supreme Court will decide? Protests should always be legal, they are a genuine part of the democratic process. The only people who try to make protests illegal are conservative politicians.

Here’s a fact for everyone to mull over, George Pell was investigated for the abuse of a 12 year old boy many years before the cases that got him jailed, but the investigation was stopped due to a lack of evidence. A lack of evidence is not being found innocent of the charges.

8.10am Charlie is up.

8.35am. I take Brun for a walk out the front after his breakfast. It is a lovely morning, the sun is warm and as gentle as honey being poured over one's skin. He likes to go for a walk in the street after his breakfast.

8.45am. We’re back. Charlie leaves as we come back. I say, “See you, Charlie.” No response. His headphones must have been in. That boy?

8.50am. I make porridge with fresh peaches and honey and more coffee.

I watch YouTube while I wait for Boris to give her okay to go ahead with work I am doing. I am soaking my finger seriously to finally to suck this infection out. I have now had it for too long and I need to get rid of it. So, it is either warm salty water soak, or go to the doctor to get antibiotics.

10am. I hear David’s croaking voice. He’ll be at my door no doubt in no time saying “Look at me, Look at me,” as is his want to do in the morning.

And it seems like only moments later, “Darling, darling, I’m awake, I am awake. Good morning,” he says sounding very much like Kathleen Turner.

He tells me he is leaving in an hour. 

“You have your shit cut out getting yourself ready in an hour.”

“You have a very serious work voice, he says. Almost imperceptible.”

“Do I?” I say.

“But clearly it is perceptible, darling only by me, and by me alone,” he says.

“Really,” I say.

Except, I am on my personal laptop, which is on my desk in front of my work station and large screen, which she (Kathleen Turner) doesn’t seem to notice, I’m writing my journal… in real time, as it becomes. I chuckle to myself.

He makes his double, double shot coffee. That’s four shots of coffee in his coffee cup. I can hear the bean container running out of beans as his coffee prepares. He doesn’t notice, and I don’t say anything. He heads back upstairs, laughing as he passes my door.

“Just think, in an hour,” David says. “You’ll be able to kick the Uber and say get out.”

“How will you have your shit together in an hour?”

I watch Taylor Ray on YouTube continue with his grandma’s Monte Carlo SS.

10.10am. I go fill up the coffee beans in the coffee machine.

10.40am. I have everything sent off to Boris for her perusal. Our department moto is ‘two sets of eyes’ on all work.

I can hear La Gioncallis scratching around in the bed room above me, for which he seems to have a never ending penchant.

11am. David’s back at my office door, with his dirty green suitcase and hand luggage, the two shades of green visually discordant. 

“My Uber is 1 minute away.” He runs through the list of food stuffs he is leaving me.

“Okay good bye,” I say.

“Get out,” he says. He makes that kicking-someone-out with-a-kick-of-his-leg motion.

“Yes, get out,” I say.

His driver looks like a pensioner who has returned to work. I grimace at the look of him, and David smiles over the back of him as he struggles with David’s giant, putrid green suitcase.

David doesn't help the old guy.

His Uber departs.

Everything was scrutinised by 11.20am. Yay. Good one, guys!

I was on track to finish the day around midday, 12.30pm. Everything was going swimmingly, for me to laze about for the afternoon. But then Houston, we have a problem! There was a problem with my work software and I couldn’t complete everything. 

Boris said she didn’t know what had happened.

So, I call my software provider and they say there is a glitch. They will send a script to fix it. 

“Have you got the latest update?” she asks.

“Yes, IT have it scheduled to implement on Friday.”

“The same fix is in that update,” says the nice helpdesk woman. “But I’ll send you the script so you don’t have to run the complete update now.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You will receive it in 10 minutes.”

So, I call my dedicated IT guy, the very cute, big, beefy butt, Osmosis Smith to ask him if he is available to run the script. He answers back “Sure.” (Oh, how I’d like to see that boy just in his undies. Oh? Did I say that out loud? Oops. There is something definitely appealing about my sweet, dedicated IT guy)

I waited and I waited and I waited. And then I waited some more. But nothing. An hour later I called back, and I get queued for a call back, again.

I then waited and I waited and I waited some more.

I messaged Osmosis Smith and asked him about running the update now. He said he could if we both gave him the go ahead. Boris was cc’d into my email and she responded quickly with “It’s okay with me.”

Then finally the script arrived with an apology 2 hours after the nice helpdesk woman said she would send it within 10 minutes, so I sent that to Osmosis Smith – I should just call him the cute boy with the big arse, something you’d like to get a handful of, or is that, of which you’d like to get a handful? Whichever. You can picture I am sure, either way. 😊 

He massaged my back, er, messaged me back that the script looked way more complicated than the update and that he’d rather do the update, and both Boris and I shot back requests to run the update.

And my free afternoon turned into work that took until nearly 4pm to to fixed. And I hate that.

I collected Peter Hujar images as I waited for things to happen.

I didn’t end up signing out of work until 5.30pm. Sam and Brun went for a walk without me.

5pm. My sister called to give me the opportunity to wish her happy birthday as she is leaving for Canada tomorrow to go skiing.

We ate potato noodles with stir fried veg for dinner.

We watched 9 news, The Project and 7.30.

I started soaking my infected finger again.

We watched Hard Quiz, but it was a repeat. Sam went to have a shower, I put on Without Love, Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.

10.10pm. We went to bed.

I managed to squeeze some puss out of my finger, splot! And that is good as it still doesn’t look like it is improving in any significant way.

I listen to Patti sing Way Up There, from 2003, what can I say, she was good.

Lights out 11.05pm.

MediScare

From all accounts, the Liberal Govt succeeded in destroying Medicare.

Well done 10 years of successive Liberal Govts and universal health care for everyone is all but gone. 

(For overseas readers, The Liberal Party in Australia is the conservative party)

Conservative governments, what are they like? The shit they go on with? Seriously? They are even still selling trickle down economics as a thing.

David Lands

David came to stay for 3 days, at the end of his summer in Melbourne, before he heads back north. He's finished his new age guru shit, and the sycophants are happy, from all accounts. Preaching to the converted and all that, how hard can it be? He's now planning for next years summer time guru festival, roughly translated as the money making machine

Then he sits around at our place feeding her fat face like Jabba The Hut with every chocolate product known to man, drinking triple shot coffees. Then he is washing pain medication down constantly with any number of bottles of chardonnay. Oh yes, New Age spirituality, indeed. All the while he is telling me that he usually practises intermittent fasting, its just that we don't get to see it. The only thing I see him doing intermittently is sniffing up a nicotine spray, curiously, since he hasn't smoked since we were pups together on the party scene.

"If you have finished everything, why aren't you getting on a plane and going home?" I ask.

"Shut up," he says. "Aren't I allowed a little downtime before I have to pack everything up for the trip home. I've worked my fingers to the bone."

"Luv, you have worked 3 weekends."

"And I am exhausted."

We Went to Lunch In Carlton

 

I always gravitate to the other side of things. I wouldn't go as far as saying the back entrance, but long time readers...

My Sore Finger

I've always bitten the skin off from around my fingernails, without any problems, but now I keep getting these infections down the side of my finger nails. ☹️ I've almost stopped biting the skin because of the infections.

I have been battling one of these for the last few days. Oh, I forgot myself and before I knew it, I'd absentmindedly chewed off a chunk of skin. Damn! I thought as I realised.

Stupid me.

My infected finger hasn't come good even after liberal applications of Betadine, tea tree oil, and pawpaw cream for the past few days, or so.

So, I am now soaking it in hot salty water to draw out the puss/infection. It will come up as a pussy blister when it is done. Probably when I wake up in the morning. Lovely, I know.

So, I have parked myself in front of YouTube while this process proceeds.

If its not one thing, it is another, at the moment. Pills, buzzing feet, pathology.

I contented myself with some of the world's greatest singers giving Aretha Franklin's song Ain't No Way a crack.

Brain Rot Morning Radio

If you banned Cancel Culture, what would brain rot morning radio and television have to discuss on their respective misery hours?

I am forced to listen to brain rot radio as I wait in the waiting room at (name of suburb) pathology.

Karl Stefanovic and his co-host were yabbering on about a mindbogglingly inane topic. It is just a word salad about nothing.

No wonder the world is in the state it is in. (Ha ha, do you like that? Straight out of their playbook. See, I did learn something from listening to them babbling on)

To quote one of the great thinkers of our time, Patsy Stone, if you could bottle morning television, it would plunge Swiss pharmaceutical companies into a world wide recession.

Australia Day

If our national day to celebrate who we are doesn't include every Australian, then change it. 

If every Australian, irrespective of what some may think, doesn't feel included in the current date, then chose another date.

I really don't care what date we celebrate Australia day on. It really isn't one of the most important things in life.

But, here's the thing, what date would allow everyone to feel included?

Why don't we make it the last Monday, or the last Friday, in January?

Cheer Up

 

Words to live by... cheer up, it may never fucken happen

Pill Number 1

I took my first elevated blood sugar tablet tonight with dinner. I was kind of excited to do so. I am hoping the buzzing feet, which sometimes becomes more than buzzing feet will now stop.

10pm. I went to bed. And not that I want to talk too soon, my buzzing feet, which I have had for quite some time, seem to have stopped buzzing. Yay.

The benefits are long term. I can't have elevated sugar levels for the rest of my life. It's not good.

It didn't ask the doctor if that meant I didn't have to be so careful with my diet any longer, I'm just going to assume that is the case. 😬 Surely? You have to have a win sometimes?

Doctor Doctor

I text Boris early. "I'm working from home today." 

Yeah, sure it is all a part of my not wanting to conform to my work's back to the office regime. Fuck them!

But, I also have an ulterior motive too. Last Thursday, I had my annual blood test, which was kind of late, because I kind of knew what it was going to say.

Fat doctor Mathew messaged me Friday saying I was to book a double appointment immediately to discuss my blood tests. 

A double appointment, immediately, I suspected he was some what of a drama queen when we had our consultation.

(Because she "Ssssssss" all over the place. More "Sssssss's" than a pit of ssssnakes)

Remembering, he hadn't seen me before, so, you know, perhaps her drama was justified? Doctor, doctor, doctor! and all that.

I called right on my clinic's opening time grab one of the cancelled appointments - there is always cancelled appointments - with my normal doctor, which I did. If you make a normal appointment it can take weeks to get in. Today...

"10.30am?"

"I'll take it."

So everything was good, except for my recalcitrant sugar levels, which were bad. And he has put me on tablets, which I suspected he would. All done with in the time frame of a single appointment. 

(Calm down fat Mathew, it will all be fine)

I have had buzzing feet for the longest, I am hoping that will stop with the pills.

It all makes kind of sense. Our bodies lose the ability to match insulin production with sugar levels, so the insulin production goes into an overdrive situation. (I hope I haven't bastardised this explanation too much?) The pills helps the body to recognise um, er, sugar levels, or inulin production, or something. I swear I listened to the explanation. 

Anyway, hopefully the buzzing feet will stop. 

Day One New Laptop

Eating porridge and drinking coffee, my new MacBook Pro is noticeably faster than my old one. And I don't think I care about such things, but, maybe, I do. There's a thing. 

It is also great to be rid of the dud butterfly keyboard. Yay, a good keyboard finally. I can't tell you how much of a relief that is. I guess, unless you have had the utter misfortune of being lumbered with an Apple butterfly keyboard, you wouldn't understand.

Sam set it all up for me yesterday. It took all day. Its great that he does all the setup, as there are lots of things to do with a new laptop. I could do it, I'm sure, but it would take longer.

New LapTop

Its new MacBook time

I got my new MacBook Pro today. You might ask why I bought a new one when I had so much trouble with the current one. It is the dud 2016/2017 model, the model about which Apple should be ashamed, and the one Apple should be replacing, it was such a piece of shit.

Mine has had 4 keyboards (under warranty) and a replacement screen. (I had to pay for it, and I still want a refund for that repair as it is a known fault but only recognised on the 13 inch. There was a class action in America, which, if I am right, was unsuccessful, but it still goes to show how many computers there were with this fault) It cost me a lot of money. It really hasn't been what you'd call a premium machine.

My previous MacBook Pro to the current one, gave me no problems.

And, I tell you, the new one had better not fuck up on me, otherwise, I can tell you, there will be no fourth MacBook Pro.

It has taken all day to transfer my data onto it.

Blood Tests and Damaged Car

I go for a blood test early. It's an annual thing, cholesterol, prostate cancer, blood sugar, liver function, signs of life. Fasting blood tests are always best done first thing in the morning, I find, just get them over and done with. It makes sense.

When I get there right on opening time, I'm third in line. First in line is already in the chair, naturally. Second in line, is a 30 something in tight shorts with good legs who acknowledges my existence in absolutely no way. I don't have to wait long, it's just a couple of vials each.

 

I go to the police station afterwards, wondering if visiting the police station is a good idea when I might be 'hangry' even as I walk in? But no, it was fine. I see a female police office, she seems nice. She takes my details. When she comes back, she implies, deliberately, or not, that Mr Handsome may not have, even, finished writing up my report. I presume this was the reason I hadn't heard anything further.

Oh well, good thing I checked, she's following it up. And somebody will be in touch with me shortly.

Shrug.

I come home and eat porridge with banana and honey, and drink coffee. The coffee tastes extra good, having had to wait for it. But I am a caffeine addict, I admit it.

Clueless HR Chick

The clueless HR moron eventually sends me everything she has, and by the sheer volume of documentation with which she has inundated me, I can identify the discrepancy in her figures that I assume she suspects she has, although I believe she is not any the wiser as she continues to point to one part of the figures and documentation when the discrepancy is in an entirely different part and set of figures.

If you throw enough pairs of soiled knickers against a wall, eventually some have to stick.

I so don’t want to tell her, er, I think. So, I put it aside, as it pleases me to do so. I so don’t want to give her the answer she wants, when she has continued to remain clueless as to what it is.

But, Boris calls to ask where I am up to on it? Where I am up to, I think. WTF? The Perth idiot had been cc’ing Boris into all the emails. And Boris doesn’t want to get stuck with all of her nonsense when I finish up for the week this afternoon.

Grrr!

So, I email the Perth moron with the results, so against every cell in my body.

Still, I am working from home, so what do I really care. Let's face it, everything is bearable when you are working from home.

Of course, I hear nothing from the HR chick in Perth, in gratitude, the sense of entitlement is strong amongst HR staff.

Clueless HR

I had to deal with the clueless HR chick in Perth. Wow! 

Is she annoying, or what? Do you reckon she knows she is annoying, or is she clueless about that too?

She is relentlessly pursing an issue that doesn't exist. I get the feeling she has a problem, but she doesn't, actually, know where it is, or how to fix it, so she is sending endless financial details at me all day, presumably, hoping that I would identify the issue for her. I guess. I don’t really have a clue what she is doing.

"There is nothing wrong with the figures you are sending me," I continually reply to her.

Any way who cares about her, she will always be a fuckwhit,

(Update, surprise, surprise she barely lasted more than 12 months)

Renee Geyer She Was On Of The Greats

Sometime after midday, Sam says, "Renee Geyer dies at 69."

"What?" I say. I am really shocked. It takes me by surprised. I am surprised.

I'm feeling instantly sad with her death, she has been one of my favourite singers for the longest time, since I was a kid. She is, was, one of the greats. One of the very best.

I start playing her music. I have all of her albums, except for the last one, you know, streaming services will do that.

I've seen her live a couple of times and she was always fantastic.

Back To The Office

Back in the salt mines. Sad face.

It is just a Monday. Does anybody like Mondays? Not that I hate them, but I like them less having to go into the office.

Get into the office by 6.45am, nobody is in at that time. I like it, the office all to myself. It is dark and all the lights bang on with the sensors with every step that I take. I'm sure there is some music that could go with that. Haha.

The Chief gets in at 7.30am. We chat. He's a chatter. He likes a chat.

Junior Chief arrive sometime after 8am. Tall and blonde, cute to look at. And a nice guy.

Everyone I work with are nice, super nice, except for HR who are just awful, which kind of highlights the difference quite sharply.

Everyone else start to arrive 8.30am onwards.

Boris is never in until after 9am.

Sunday

We walked down the Yarra with Brun. It was much cooler today.

He's not one for showing enthusiasm for walks, but car rides, he loves them.

We go late morning. There are no car spots where we like to park, just near the bridge, so I drop them off. I park back on the main street outside the Salvos. Sam and Brun have already crossed the bridge and have headed up the track by the time I catch up to them.

It is a nice day, much cooler to yesterday, but the sky is blue and the sunshine dappled along the river.

A couple comes walking towards us, she is carrying a small white fluffy dog.

Brun jumps up on a lady and scratches her leg when he is trying to look at the white fluffy dog she is carrying. 

She leans down and rubs it, wincing. We apologise. She shrugs it off and keeps walking. 

Sam tut tutts when I say that I should have said, “You see luv, if you let your dog walk like a fucken dog rather than carrying it like a fucken handbag, Brun would never have jumped up.” 

We did some grocery shopping.

It is a very mild, cool day. I have on jeans but I could easily have worn shorts. I sit on the ground with Brun outside the shops while Sam does the shopping. There are plenty of strapping guys in shorts heading into the shops. And the angle from where I am sitting... all those beefy butts.

There are many people with dogs walking past. Lots of people comment on how cute Brun is.

I make an apple cake. It sinks in the middle dramatically. I forgot with this recipe I just need to put the apple pieces around the outside on the top, then they sink down evenly. 

The rest of the weekend drifts away into a soft finish.

Washing Brun & Banging Up Cars

We wash Brun, on the day predicted to be 37 degree day. What else is there to do? No, I ask you?

So, then it was time to just laze about. You know, close up the house and move about as little as possible.

We were on our devices laying low.

In the afternoon, the doorbell rings. There is a guy and girl at my door when I open it. He asks, “Is that your car out the front. 

“Yes,” I say.

“We just saw someone back into it and then drive away,” he says.

This is the second time someone has backed into my car in the last 2 weeks and just driven away. The first time was New Years Eve. I shouldn't leave it out the front. I should park it in my back yard. It is just laziness. But, in all the time I have lived here, I have never had a car damaged, and now twice in a short time.

They come out and look at the damage with me, and while the car isn't badly damaged, it is still damaged.

So, a short time later, I head around to the police station to report the damage. It is hot. I am sweating.

Out comes a gorgeous blond policeman to help me. How handsome are you, I think. No really, it was distracting how good looking he was. (You would definitely want to see him in his undies) He takes my details and then goes to look up the driver. While I am waiting for him to find the other driver's details, a gorgeous dark haired policeman comes in the door with his lunch. (kind of Italian looking) I’d like to see the two of them go at it, is my next thought.

Then two more handsome policemen come into the building seemingly returning from a job somewhere. (I think the dark blue uniforms are really flattering. I know I am an arse man, but seriously watching those coppers walk away from me...)

The gorgeous blond cop is going to send me a report by email. And I’ll send back photos of the car.

Bath Mats

I don't know how people get the bath mat so wet. The bath mat was saturated when I went and had a shower.

You have a shower. You grab a towel and dry yourself. When you are quite dry, semi dry, you step out of the shower onto the bath mat, which remains relatively dry through out.

What do people do? I ask you?

Friday 13th

Brun and I sit on the couch. Sam is in the other room working. I've been reading the news. Brun is licking bits of him and me. When he is not licking, he pushes his furry arse into my side trying to claim more space on the couch.

David is still asleep. She doesn't get up and piss before midday. I guess that is one of the byproducts of working your own hours for many years.

Tim is off exploring Melbourne with his housemate. Tim is up at day break.

It is quiet, just the sound of running water from the pond beyond the back door. There is a cool breeze blowing in.

I'm trying to get some writing done. My mind hasn't been in it lately so I am struggling a bit.

Must be time to watch YouTube. 😬

Guests, Guests, Guests

David is back for the night. He's been guru'ing his sycophant power base and now he is back, all the disciple meetings done for the time being, before he heads off down the beach with one of his sycophants. 

David is in Melbourne until the end of the month.

I pissed around with music all day. Pissed my life away? I wouldn't say that, but having said that what else are days off for? No, seriously. Piss them away to your heart's content, you've worked hard, no doubt.

We have a semi permanent house guest, my friend Tasmanian Tim who is in Melbourne looking for a place to buy because he likes Melbourne and wants to live here for a while. And he had his housemate here from Tassy, so the house is full of guys. They are exploring Melbourne and are heading off to see Elton John.

The Rolling stones are doing a world tour this year starting in the northern hemisphere summer, and I'd love to go, but Mick Jagger will be 80 years old by then. So, I don't know, I'd hate to be disappointed.

I've seen Elton John twice and they were two of the best concerts I have ever seen, but he's getting on too. I hope he is good.

Days Like These

Wednesday. Hot day. Shorts and bare feet all day. It was the kind of heat where the shadows become something precious. Just pull back from the sun's rays, just like that.

We ate chicken teriyaki for lunch after which I broke out a fan.

I worked in the morning and watched YouTube in the afternoon, lying on the couch, that was how busy I was. It was a lovely day.

I like days like these, working, or not.

I'm sure it is a sign of my efficiency, I get everything assigned to me done, quite easily. No one really asks me if I need more work, I don't really ask for any. Boris can stump up more for me to do, if she wants to, that is her job after all. I'm her staff. She is my manager.

I, actually, find I have an infinite capacity for extra work, if I need to.

Should I be asking for more to do? No. Some down time is good for all of us.

What is wrong with watching YouTube when I have all of my work done, I ask you? Nothing, is the answer. Workers don't have to be slaves 100% of the time.

Last day of the week for me. And my weekend starts.

Tuesday At Home

Bloody hell, I did fuck all, all day. Really. Nothing.

It was a gorgeous day, just made for doing fuck all.

Lovely.

I had everything done mid morning. Then I had lunch. Then I had time for a snooze on the couch. 

Why would I ever want to go back to the office?

I started early. I got all my work done. That's all that should matter? Surely?

That's why they want you back in the office, I hear you say. No, not really, same amount of work, same amount of supervision. Nobody checks up on me, generally, no. No one checks up on me in the office.

Why do they want us back in the office? Do you think the execs feel their power base slipping? You can't let the workers have what they want, there is no telling where that might lead? 

(It is the same reason why people mindlessly vote conservative year after year, they don't want anything to change, as there is fear involved with that)

Why they want you to go back to the office, you say? It is in your own words, you did nothing all day.

Did nothing for part of the day, after I had done all my work. No, that’s not the reason they want me back in the office. If I spend the afternoon doing nothing at home, I would have done nothing for the same period of time in the office. In my office, the back of my computer screen to my office door, looking at ladder back chairs in Paris, let me tell you. Or writing a story, hopefully. The only thing missing is the luxury of being able to lie on my own couch with my own laptop.

Working From Home

I messaged Boris early to say I wouldn't be in the office today. I didn't bother mentioning the Covid exposure thing, as I didn't want to be appearing to be justifying my absence.

Let's face it, I didn't put up a strong enough argument, however many months ago it was, for working from home permanently. I just caved and headed back into the office like a good boy when I was told. This was a late argument against that.

Boris messaged back, okay.

Oh, I don't really want to resign over this, I just want to continue working from home, it is so much better than going into the office. You know, today I am in shorts and a t-shirt with bare feet. It's great.

I whinged to Jill about having to go back to the office one day per week. She replied, "Don't you have money in superannuation?"

"Yes, sure."

"Well, the big superannuation companies own all those high rise buildings in the city..."

"Yes, I know."

"Well, don't you want your superannuation to do well?"

Sometimes I forget that Jill, is a right winger. And often it is a surprise all over again when she trots out right wing garbage.

I managed to resist saying, Oh, fuck off to her. "Are you serious?" I said. "Of course you are serious."

"Well?"

"Wow. The workers have found a new way of working, and, again, big business wants to piss all over them in the name of profits. There is more to life, Jill? Seriously."

"Well, you can't have both..."

"Only a deluded Fox News watcher would come out with that," I said. "You can have both, of course you can have both."

Conservatives are just SO weird how easily they fall completely in line with the conservative group think. It is just odd, as Jill is a highly qualified, university educated person.

Holidays Over

David went off to do his guru shit. We'll see him in a week, when he has serviced his sycophants who finance his life style. He only works bi-monthly, good work if you can get it.

Sam and I lay on a couch each and gazed at our screens all day.

Brun lay prostrate on the floor, occasionally licking my feet. He has a fetish for licking my feet. If I was honest, I like it. Not sure how good it is for him?

It was hot.

I'm still contemplating using the covid scare as an excuse not to go into the office. I'll see how I feel in the morning.

Out To Dinner

We went out with the guy's last night, lovely Tom Vonage and his gorgeous boyfriend Matt, Fat Freddy who arrived in a bright orange, skin tight t-shirt which made him look like a swollen tangerine, David, Sam and I.

We always get together when David is in town.

We had to tell them about the covid scare, twice removed when we go there and we all sort of stepped back from one another as a result.

We sat on high stools at a high table and drank margaritas and ate Mexican food.

We’re all partnered up, even if Freddy never brings his boyfriend. David craves a partner but never seems to crack it for one. He likes asking us couple questions, it's kind of a vicarious situation, I think. You know, after he's had a few margaritas, I guess it is a bit sad, in a sense, if I think about it. We're all used to it, though. We laugh. He slurs.

We all hugged when we were saying good bye, the sentiment being it was unlikely we were going to catch covid anyway, twice removed. Not sure that is true.

David insisted we buy ice creams when the 3 of us were walking home, of course David did.

We watched Bad Samaritan, with David Tennent when we got home, it was the latest movie David had on repeat viewing at the minute. He watches things over and over when he likes them. It was an okay movie, it defied the time continuum several times, particularly at the end, but if you could over look that, it was pretty good. It was a thriller.

Jill Calls To Tell Us

Jill called to say that her cruise buddy Jane had tested positive for covid. In fact, Jane had tested positive on the boast but hadn’t told anyone because she didn’t want to be consigned to her cabin on the cruise. [seriously? Why are people so stupid, selfish, I ask you? She should be put in jail! Okay, that is a little extreme, but this is serious stuff, to be taken seriously] 

She had mingled with the other guests on the cruise, of course she had, she had shared a car home with Jill yesterday morning all without wearing a mask when she knew she had Covid. Really, some people? There are no bounds to people’s selfishness.

"I hope the selfish bitch ends up in ICU on a ventilator, if I get it," I say.

"Well," says Jill at my sudden outburst.

"Oh, I don't mean that..."

"She is pretty sick at home," says Jill.

"Well, there you go," I say, not really trying to hide my... um, what would I call it? Schadenfreude.

Jill had taken a test this morning which was negative. "I'll keep you posted if there are any developments," said Jill.

You know, David is coming tomorrow. He's come down to work over the next few days. I was guessing I had to tell him?

Seriously, selfish people. What goes through some people's minds?

Jill Comes To Get The Dogs

Jill arrived to pick up the dogs.

I made her a cup of tea, and she got settled on the couch, lay back with her feet up, and wasn't in any hurry to leave, which was fine with me, it was nice to see her.

She's been on a cruise with unlimited food for 2 weeks and she visibly had trouble getting up off a couch, when it was time to head out for a meal. I watched as she struggled, it was kind of eye opening. I felt every gasp, every groan, every wince, and finally she was up. And I exhaled, let out the breath I didn't even realise I was holding in until that moment.

We went out for Japanese.

We sat opposite a couple of beefy gay boys enthusing about the food. Actually, just one was enthusing about the food, the cute/chubby one with the nice voice, smile and way about him.

We ate karaage chicken for entre, 2 serves, we weren’t exactly sure of the portion size, well that is how Jill justified it. We all eat too much.

Jill ate tempura. Sam ate sober noodles. I ate vegan mushroom soba noodles, which, I have to say, need a good handful of salt thrown in.

We all ate Matcha ice cream for dessert, Jill insisted.

Smith Street was really busy, lots of people sitting outside eating. All the tourists.

We came home and drank tea and talked American politics. We talked about how awful Meaghan the whatever of Sussex is.

Miriam Margolyes

"I’m certainly not going to tell any filthy jokes. I don’t like filthy jokes. People have this idea that I’m a walking cesspit. I think it’s quite unfair. I take great care in the words I use and when I use swear words, I mean to use them. I don’t like a loose use of filth. I like a precise use of filth," says Miriam Margolyes. "I talk about sex a lot. But it’s only because I don’t really have sex any more. I just like to remember it and talk about it. I think it would be nice if you mentioned that it was pleasant to talk to me, because a lot of people seem to think that I’m a hateful old hag, and I think that’s completely unfair. I think that I’m not quite like other people, but I do love humanity. I hope I’ll be remembered as a talented eccentric: a mouthy old bag with a heart of gold."

I think Miriam Margolyes is one of the interesting people in the world today. I love her stories, in fact, I love everything about her. 

I'll Come Get The Corgis Tomorrow

Jill called early to say she was back from her cruise.

She said she'd come and get Bear to Billie tomorrow. Not sure why she wasn't coming to get them until tomorrow?

Sam and I discussed how when we came back from overseas once around midnight and how we drove an hour to the country to get Buddy, getting back home at something like 3am.

Buddy stank, he'd been on the farm for weeks.

Sam told Bear and Billie that their mum no longer loved them, for most of the day. There seemed to be no other explanation for it.

Spoilt

When will Prince Harry’s seemingly never ending tantrum stop, you have to ask?

I just see him as a spoilt rich kind with enormous advantage and wealth being incredibly disloyal to his family.

And Meaghan? Well, she really is a nobody, isn’t she. She seems to be milking her 15 minutes for all its worth. Seriously.

Spare. (more like Spoilt) That’s what we’re all going to go if we have to continue listening to their continual whinging. They only have one story, how many times can they tell it? People were mean to you, we know, we’ve heard it already. You were born second, yes, boo hoo. (On the bright side, not spare any more, with George, Charlotte and Louis. Oh, er, does that mean you are now completely irrelevant, Harry?)

I’m just not sure why we all have to care? Well, continue to care? Harry just seems to appear more and more boring with every new, read repeated, utterance coming from his mouth. And her? Remind me, who is she again?

And I don't care, no, really, I don't. I don't think they are very interesting, but it seems to be in every online news I look at now, so they are hard to avoid.

Corgis

Having the corgis stay these last weeks I think there is one thing you can be assured off if you own a corgi, they will never love you quite as much as they love food.

I googled it and it said, if corgis are left with an infinite amount of food, a corgi is most likely going to eat itself to death.

I'm not sure what that says? You know, for a smart dog? I guess people prove they are the same every day of the week.

New Year

Some bastard backed into the side of my car New Year's Eve night. No note, of course not, just a crease right between the front and back door. The car was previously blemish free.

Yay.

I saw it when we were in Ballarat New Year’s Day. We took Charlie for a drive to see Victoria. It was a hot day. Brun came with us, the corgis stayed at home. It was too hot to have 3 dogs in the back with Charlie.

We stopped at some famous bakery in Ballarat, one of the few places that was open, most of Ballarat was closed. I had, quite possibly, the worst meal I've had in the longest time. It was called the Big Breakfast, and when it arrived it was like some sort of overcooked roll/burger. It was really awful, almost inedible.

We came home via Hepburn Springs, loading up on mineral water. Charlie didn't like it. I love it. If I lived close by, I’d go and get bottles of it every day.

New Year's Eve

Charlie went into the city on his own to watch the fireworks. He didn't want to hang out with us.

We watched an English spy show on Netflix called Treason. I picked it because it sounded interesting. It didn't hurt that the main character was handsome. Charlie Cox, apparently, he plays some DC comics character, but as I am not the super hero type, I don't know him as that. 5 episodes. It was good. We watched all the episodes. I kind of like binge watching things.

Bear barked, which made Brun Bark, so of course Billie barked, and they were all suddenly barking at the first children's fireworks, until we put on Michael Jackson, Want To Be Starting Something. We put it on again at midnight. The midnight fireworks seemed to only go for a lousy 8 minutes, perhaps 2 songs, about which I am not complaining, thinking of the whole environmental issue thing.

Later on they said it was the greatest fireworks ever, which I really doubted.

We went to bed at 1am.

Happy New Year.