Hey Christian.
How are you today?
I've got lots of yukky stuff to show the doctor today!
Yippee!
xT
Well, I suppose that's good.
Well done?
Have fun
christian
No idea where it is, can't be bothered looking at the moment... will let you know tho. I am going out Fri much to husband's disgust and have organised to be gone all night!!! tee hee, staying with a girlfriend in Briar Hill... yeah. I agree, where the fuck?
Rachel
Isn’t that where Peter Rabbit got stuck in the thorns?
christian
Did you know that modern day technology is being used to spy on spouses who are suspected of cheating.
GPS satellite tracking for their car – a devise the size of a matchbox out of sight.
Smart mobile phones that record conversations that can be dialled into to report back.
Keyboard devices that can re-type all keystrokes entered for cyberspace affairs.
Love and trust 21st Century style.
But what does the snooping partner think the spied on partner is going to think/react when he/she finds out what methods were used?
It's just a stupidity tax, not unlike the pokies.
Celia wants to have a baby. She wants lovely Brad to be the father. Captain of the footy team. Secret homo gay. Her Italian family wont approve, but that is why she doesn't plan to tell them.
Celia and Brad go have tests, as they have decided to do it the natural way.
She says she can do it. He says he could do it, although Viagra may have to be involved.
The day comes, they are in her bedroom. He's never done it with a girl before. They strip and get under the covers.
"Now what?" asks Brad.
"Well, you take this..."
"Your hands are cold!"
"My, my," says Celia. "You've never had anything to be embarrassed about in the change rooms, now have you?"
"Never had any complaints."
"I can see why?"
"So, um, what do I do?"
"You don't know?"
"No."
"How could you get through school and not know..."
"Oh, I have a vague idea, you know, I grasp the theory."
"Don't worry... just... let... me..."
"Can you warm up your hands..."
"Oh, yes, sorry," she said “We wouldn’t want him to…”
“No, we wouldn’t want him to…”
“Do a turtle,” he said.
“No, we don’t want that.”
Cate's a young lawyer, straight, beautiful, determined. Voted the girl most likely to have it all at university. Campbell's a young lawyer, straight, sexy, some would say arrogant. He was voted the boy with the hottest arse twice at university. Both have just turned 30. They both work for the same corporate law firm; 2nd most profitable last year, most profitable the two years before that.
Cate puts the key in the door and turns it. The house is silent, just a lamp, or two on. Cate had her interstate trip cancelled, instead had had a teleconference until quite late. She thought she could surprise Rob with a late supper, at his place.
The blues plays quietly from the bedroom. Cate pushes the door open and there is Rob in bed with some girl.
“Oh my god!” Cate hears herself say. She felt the bag with the biscuits and cheese slip from her grip.
Kate takes a week off work and doesn’t see anyone, Mel included.
Cate drinks coffee with her friend Mel most Saturday mornings. Week nights are too hard to catch up, both of them work too longer hours.
“I just had to shut down,” said Cate. “After the five days, I felt the grief and embarrassment subside and I got angry. I raged for the weekend, until I was exhausted Sunday night. Then I slept and went to work.”
“I’m so sorry,” says Mel.
"How long, now, do you think it will take me to find the right guy?" says Cate "And how long after do you think it would be safe with him to mention the c word?"
Mel shrugs. "Don't know. Sometimes they bolt, sometimes they don't. It’s hard to say."
“I’m thirty now, I shouldn’t be single, yet again. At my age.”
“Oh Cate,” says Mel. "You've got to start thinking about men as partners, not sperm donors."
“That’s not true...”
“Rob was the best on paper, you said so yourself.”
“Anyway, I’ve decided I don't want kids... or a man.” Cate feels defiant. “Maybe it's easier? Make the decision now.”
"But that doesn't make any sense," says Mel. "You are only 30."
"Yes it does," says Cate. "It means I can stop thinking about it. Besides, you're always telling me that's when it will happen."
“Cate, that’s denial,” says Mel. “You’ll still have that hungry look in your eye.”
“No, not me,” says Cate. “I’m just going to think about work, from now on.”
Campbell didn’t know why he did it. He’d been home sick and had been watching Jerry Springer. Nat had forgotten her mobile phone. Unusual for her, Campbell thought. He hadn’t seen it in so long, it seemed foreign to him. He flicked to her text messages unthinkingly. He’s a fanatical texter, he always goes straight to his messages on his phone. And there they were, all 102 of them, he’d counted them by the time Nat got home. He’d consumed the good part of a bottle of bourbon too and could recite many of them by heart.
It's 3am and the after-party, Xmas party has just finished. Cate are Campbell are feeling somewhat broken hearted, even if Campbell is admitting nothing.
They find themselves both walking up Collins Street together, both having drunk too much, looking for a taxi.
Handsome Campbell, Cate thinks. She finds herself glancing at his sexy manly arse as he steps out onto the road to hail a taxi. The yellow car pulls up.
"Do you want to share a taxi home?" she asks.
"We live in opposite directions?"
"Not if we both head to my place." It just came out. Cate was a little surprised with her forwardness.
Campbell smiles. "Okay. Sure."
He takes her in his arms and kisses her, as soon as they are in the door. He kisses the back of her neck, as she puts her key back in her bag. She rotates in his arms. His mouth is on hers as she wraps her arms around his neck. His beautiful smile. His scent. His tremble of excitement. Cate suddenly wants it all. Her fingers tremble on the buttons of his shirt as she undoes them.
“You taste good,” Campbell whispers.
She hits her bed on her back with a shirtless Campbell on top of her. Kissing her, his stubble tickles her skin. He feels good; his mouth, his muscular chest, his strong arms, his warm skin on hers, his passion. Big, solid boy pushing her legs apart. She lets him, wants him. He's a big boy, the whispers were true. He stretches her wide open, she moans with delight.
“Oh my god! He was.” Cate can’t stop smiling.
“Good?” says Mel, enthusiastically.
“Good! I’ve never... before.” Cate slaps her hands down on the table. Crockery rattles. The woman sitting next to them jumps, noticeably.
“Never?” asks Mel concerned.
“Not like that!” Cate says too loudly. Jumpy woman looks around again. “And” Kate leans in closer. “I knew he went to the gym,” whispers Cate. “But...” Cate feels her face hurting from her smile.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“Don’t know.” Cate shrugs. “I never expected that.”
“Well,” says Mel. “If I thought that’s what you meant by, only thinking about work from now on, I... I... “ Mel beams and takes Cate’s hand. “I’d have approved earlier, I guess.”
Cate finds Campbell is business as usual, around the office. Smiles. Polite. They go out to a work lunch together. The following week Cate's in the kitchen and Campbell comes in for coffee.
“Hi,” says Cate.
“Hi Cate,” says Campbell. “How’s business?”
“Why?” says Cate sharply. She thinks they can acknowledge what happened. “How’s yours?”
“Oh, good, going...“ He looks at her. He smiles nervously. “You don’t want to talk about work... do you?”
“No.”
“Look... I had a good time.” He smiles.
“Me too,” says Cate.
“It was good.” He shrugs. “But we work together.”
“I just wanted to acknowledge it,” says Cate. “Not let it be...” She was going to say weird, but at the last minute that seems to be the wrong thing to say.
Campbell stirs his coffee. “Maybe, we should work for different firms.” He picks up his cup and sips his coffee. “Then.” He shrugs again. “Maybe.” Trade mark smile.
They gaze at each other. There is something in Campbell’s eyes. Is it interest? Is it fear?
“Friends?” he asks.
“Friends,” she says.
“What do two blue lines on the home test? Cate didn’t know how else to put it. Tears well in her eyes, Mel blurs in her vision.
“What?” Mel asks questioningly, as she looks up from her newspaper. When she sees Cate’s tears, her hand instinctively takes Cate’s.
“Oh, Katie.”
“I think Campbell’s about to become a dad.”
“How long?” asks Mel.
“Oh. Four weeks. Yes. After the Xmas party.”
"So what are you going to do?"
"Tell him."
"No, what are you going to do?"
"Mel, I haven't thought past telling him."
"What!" says Campbell. He closes the door to his office. "Weren't you on the pill?"
"Why didn't you use a condom."
"Why didn't I..." Campbell's voice pitches up. He clears his throat. "Use a condom?" He is incredulous.
“We should have any...”
Campbell rubs his hand backwards through his hair, his eyes widen as his gaze turns back to Cate. “We should have.”
I love you Pete
your child-like ways;
innocence and naivety
drilled down and connected,
put on for display.
Wonder at the world
push it away.
You’ve got your own wonderland
in which to play.
I find I get angry easily
but at other people’s mistakes.
I think awful things
when the lesser get in my way.
I push the close doors lift button
without a care for anybody else.
I want to get a head, have my say
at other’s expense,
if that is the only way.
I think awful things about inheritance,
car crashes and the like.
I smile at old ladies in the street,
as if that makes it all alright.
You sounded scared, unhappy.
Come out to play, I’m lonely.
I could dream of a pretty boy
give me a break. It’s not fair.
I wanted to hug you, hold you
say it’s going to be all right.
We’ve got each other,
whatever that counts for,
you’ve got a soul mate,
he’s standing right here.
I don’t know about you,
but that counts for everything,
in the mess of bars and one night stands,
makes it bearable, eternal.
It hurts, the ache of the years,
but how long can you have pretty things
fall at your feet, anyway?
For it to mean anything
other than what it means.
I love you, I thought.
I hope you never change.
The grave was over grown with weeds, they obscured the grave stone almost completely. It didn't look as though any one had been by in a very long time. He wondered how long it had been since the last person stood where he now stood?
He knelt down next to the grave stone and pulled the weeds out of the way. The inscription read, Are we there yet?
Then he knew he'd found Uncle Spike.
I got up and read the newspaper and drank percolated coffee. Generally frittered the day away with Christian abandon. Ha ha.
I was going to stress about my presentation tomorrow, but I think I forgot.
I got so stressed about it, I went to the movies with Aby. We had a date for The Dreamers, after all. But we got there too late, so we saw Supersize Me.
I think Morgan Spurlock is kind of cute. Ab didn't agree.
SMS. 17.57. It’s official, have enrolled in novel 4, have been writing heaps, how about u? How r u? Wan2 catch up sumtym? – Kym
I came home and watched Big Brother.
Then watched Clock Work Orange, for the first time and was completely under-whelmed by it.
Don't underestimate the Greek boy. They have very beautiful... um... er... well... I'm not talking about their intellect... generally speaking. Something about Mediterranean boys, their great, great, great grandfathers were blessed when it came to equipping them for the procreation of the species. Maybe it was all that goat-herding and baggy pants, nothing restricting them, shall we say. And of course, they have inherited those genes. Guaranteed to make you forget about your boredom.
I do recommend it, natch.
Hours of fun.
Nice to chew on.
At the corner of Russell and Bourke streets, there was a carriage with a couple of horses pulling it, making its way home in the night. It was first at the lights and when the lights turned green the horses balked, twice. If there is such a thing as horses stalling, then that’s what I saw. They kind of shuddered, their feet went cloppity-clop, cloppity-clop in the one spot, the whole carriage seemed to shudder, as they dropped their heads, as if to say no! There was traffic all around, cars and trams and buses, all waiting to go. Peak hour in the city, jammed between a tram-stop railing and the other lane, heading up the hill.
The crusty old R.M. Williams type, with his Akubra hat and Japara Jacket, holding the reins was having none of it. He was in a situation where he had to take definitive action, take control and get that carriage moving forth-with, out of every body's way. He took hold of his whip and cracked it soundly in the air, like a gunshot in the night. Twice. It was fantastic, the whir and the snap. Thrilling in the crisp, cold night. A chill shot up and down my spine at the sight of his determination, against the shiny buildings and the lights and the black, black sky behind, as he put his all into those powerful arm strokes – like an out-back Santa on his out-back sleigh, I could almost hear him call out. Get on with ya Ginger, get on with ya Skeeter! Get along! Get up!
And those horses moved, you’d better believe it. They certainly knew that the boss wasn’t at all pleased. Up went their heads and up went their tails and off they trotted in sync, no more recalcitrant behaviour from either of those two. Clip-clop, clip-clop went that carriage into the night, leaving the congestion of the intersection behind – momentarily reminiscent of a time long past, as I watched the carriage work, with it’s little window and the wooden spoked-wheels turning for all they were worth, disappear out of sight.
There was a mother and son on the corner with me. "Oh mum, he’s whipping them," whined the son, which snapped me back from my tantalising moment, caught in the whirl of the drama and the night. What are we breeding, a pack of fucking pansies, was my first thought. Although, admittedly, he looked only four and I guess it was sweet. Be kind to children and dumb animals, I thought.
Witches Tit! That's what they're saying, the voices that chatter in the dark spaces in the shadows in the doorways of unoccupied flats. Snap, crack, the lock turns and the bones grind, chilled to the core. Throw them a blanket, I say – the boys who live off others like barnacles on the rotting stumps of piers – give them nothing more.
The trick is to find a jetty that will stand the test of time, and not be sucked away to nothing, as if by an over enthusiastic tick! Deflated like so much air out of a soccer ball, as the poor kids stand around with it at their feet wondering what on earth they will kick next.
Yes, they’ve got their eye on our spare room; does it do our souls some good to give someone a home? Keep coming we say, the aesthetically pleasing and the audibly astute – he who knows how to treat his surroundings with the quiet dignity it deserves.
And of course, the rule of the nest will always prevail – be ye true to whom ye live with and they'll never believe idle gossip from scheming sources – besides, email evidence, with ye name attached, has been logged and viewed.
I'd like to submit exhibit 1A for the courts pleasure, your Honour.
You Honour and his Associate will take it on advisement and will give our verdict when we have a need.
Oh, I just called to change the name on my home phone number, as it's always been in Mark's name, pretending to be Mark, because last time I tried to change the name they wanted to talk to him. And guess what, this time they wanted to talk to Christian... er... me.
Now I have an order number and I have to call back and pretend to be me... er... me.
It was doing my head in, talking about me, as if I wasn't me, all along.
Who would have thought it would be so hard to change a name on an account.
"Does Magic happen?" asked the handsome naked man, with the slight reptilian appearance to his skin, standing by the edge of the pond.
"I don't think so," replied the woman with the wart on her chin, the broom and the distinctive laugh.
She looked down his body to his crotch and sighed. "Oh, no!" He instinctively covered himself with both hands. She pulled, what looked like, a stick from her tunic and pointed it at his clasped hands with the words "Shabista!"
Suddenly his hands were full.
"But then again," said the old crone. "May be it does." She threw her head back and cackled to the sky.
He opened his hands tentatively and looked. He was impressed with the improvements.
