Do You Mind If I Lay My Towel Next To Yours?

Big Brother

You have got to love fat Dixie on Big Bro. She only ever truly lights up when food is mentioned. She said she felt warm all over, at the beginning, when they were finally given a kitchen. For the doghouse challenge, the moment food was offered as an incentive to come out, Dixie was out of that kennel at the speed of light. There is no mystery why this girl is fat.

Then again, there is very little mystery why anyone is fat, now is there.

I don't know why people say Rory is so awful, I think he is kinda hot.

I want to see Ben's todger. In the cricket challenge, he must have been wearing boxers, as it kept flopping about under his baggy whites. It looked like it would be worth seeing.

Under hypnosis Dixie said she was in love with Ben.

I think Nobbie is adorable. Under hypnosis he said he had a thing for Terry. What the?

How on earth is that vile Bridget so popular?

Stop voting out the cute boys Australia, there will be no one left to perve on in the shower, at this rate.

Ready for Inspection, Sir!

The Petrol Prices

Here we go again, the environment comes second. The petrol prices are going up because of the world oil cartels, not because of tax. In today's environmentally critical times, people will have to face the actual reality that they need to drive less, not scream like spoilt brats for the government to do something. By lowering the tax on petrol you are actually supporting what the oil cartels are doing.

People spend a lot of time paying lip-service to environmental issues and doing little, here's a chance for them to actually do something. Maybe all those idiot mother's who drive their two tiny children to school in their huge 4WDs can now, actually, buy a car that suits their needs.

Advertising is Destroying the World

I hate marketing and advertising people - despite, some of my best friends... (even if hate is a little stronger than I want to use) What is it with the exponential increase in advertising on the net? Bloody adverts seem to pop up on everything I seem to click on. Playing videos now prompts an ad first. Ah! Nobody wants this! It's only purpose seems to be to annoy all of us. I don't want all of that shit in my face, for things I don't want and don't need and don't care about. These people are destroying our (net enjoying) lives. They should be put up against a wall for crimes against humanity.

He's Also Faithful, Funny and Smart

Virginity and Sex

Handsome Nathan, with the gorgeous smile, from Big Brother, is 28 and a virgin. He said that he wants to save it for that special person, as a gift of their love.

You know, if someone I met said they had done that for me, my first thought would be, You are an idiot.

My second thought would be, Oh no, you won’t know what the hell you are doing.

My third thought would be, I think less of you because of this.

Get out there, experience some life, find out what you like and then you will be a more complete human being entering into a relationship.

I don't really understand what the benefit of saving it is? To relegate yourself into the dud-root category for the one you love?

I saw the beautiful Sebastian, last night, he said that he decided a few months ago that he was shagging too much. Two or three different girls per week. He decided that he should stop and only fuck girls that he had some connection with. Some how, that translated into no sex for three months.

"I don't know why," he said, in his sexy Italian accent. "I didn't for a minute think it meant no sex at all. No girls seems to want to fuck with me, at present." He made a grrr, stressed face. Standing there in his jeans, that I couldn't help noticing, cupped his bulge, some what, perfectly.

He decided last Friday morning that he was going back to shagging. "Fuck it! I need a root." (an expression I taught him) Then, on Friday night, his house mate's sister came to stay for the night. After a night of drinking, and well after his house mate had gone to bed, the sister said, "Can I sleep in your bed, Sebastian?"

"Okay," said Sebastian, some what bemused, as he hadn't got any impression from the sister that she was interested in him. (It's touching, some times, when the incredibly good looking can be so, seemingly, modest)

Later, in bed, the sister turned to him and said, somewhat drunkenly, "Sebastian, will you fuck me, please?"

"Ahhhhh!" he said, with his cute smile. "Her sister was behind the wall, this far away. I was a bit drunk, I was drifting off to sleep. Can you guess?"

"No what?"

"I couldn't get it up!" He clenched his fists. "I went into the bathroom and tugged away. COME ON! COME ON, I said." He looked down at his cock, squinted and made masturbation gestures. "AH! Do you believe it!" He held his hands in the air. "Three months, out of practise. Nothing!"

Beauty and the Beast @ Cannes

Can anyone recognise this old actress, from the red carpet at Cannes, under her far-too-many face lifts?

She's looking a bit like Pixie Scase. (no offence meant to Pixie Scase)

They all begin to look a bit the same in the end. They don't look younger, they just look like they have had plastic surgery. Pulled tight, with a mouth like a fish.

How beautiful does Michelle Williams look?

Sadly, for the old thesbian, er, thespian above, no amount of surgery is going to make her look like this again.

Monday

I took the day off. You knew I would.

It feels like it is going to take 6 showers to get the vitamin E cream off my loins.

Strange tastes keep coming out from between my teeth, I haven't cleaned them since Friday night.

I'm a bit dazed, but holding up. Definitely no multi tasking. Just a slow ooze forward.

Instead of wasting the day, I should – Do my tax return, last years; find software to replace my beloved Image Composer, since I lost it in my computer upgrade; buy a new door trim for my car, then I can have that pesky leaking window fixed; I should take my camera out and take some new photos.

I decided to do some washing, that seemed nice and gentle. Sometime later, I accidentally knocked the small, yellow jug, in which I dissolve the washing powder, off the top of the washing machine. I fell head first down the side of the washing machine, as I attempted to retrieve it. I managed to struggle out of there, it wasn't easy as both feet had come off the ground, only to bash and scrape my head down the side of the clothes baskets hanging above the washing machine, as I stood up.

Grrr! Right now, I'm starving. I haven't eaten properly since early Saturday evening and I think it is food that is going to make me feel better.

And maybe some green tea.

Gently Flutter To The Ground

I woke up and saw that the clock said 12.20. I spun my head around and saw that it was dark out side. 12.20, dark outside, what time of the day was it? I was confused. I was expecting it to be Sunday, 12.20 fitted just fine, if it was daylight outside.

But dark?

I got home at daybreak, which was Sunday morning. 12.20 and dark meant it must have been... um... no! How could that be so? I've slept the whole day away and when I wake up, next daylight, I will be getting ready to go to work? It can't be TRUE!

Still thinking that my mind was fuddled and that there was some mistake, which would all come clear to me, I headed down stairs.

Missy has been fed, Sunday night, was what the note said on the bench. NO!

I ground beans and made coffee.

Bugger! This is why I much prefer to go out and have a big night on Friday. Then it would be Sunday morning and I have the whole day to recover and another sleep before the salt mines Monday morning.

After procrastinating about Nicholas' present, I headed to the chocolate shop in Brunswick and bought him a box of ten assorted truffles. Shane called me just as I'd finished shopping to say there was a warehouse sale at the Fitzroy town hall. I got there to find Shane almost buried under the clothes he was about to purchase. I bought five new work shirts, which I have been desperate for for so long.

I got to Nicholas' birthday around 7pm and we went to The Rose for dinner. We got to A Bar Named Barry some where around midnight and, strangely, the door bitch boy was only letting people in with ID. At the head of the queue was Alex, who was with us, said she was thirty two, mystified. He didn't care, no ID no entry. Just as we were digesting this information, a big, white police truck pulled up outside the club and, something like, ten police men got out. It was clearly being raided by the coppers.

We all had drugs in our pockets. Nicholas said afterwards, Good thing, otherwise I would have had to triple drop, if we were in the club. Big, beautiful Nicholas smile. And you never know where that would have led to.

We also had Fat Patty, a.k.a Bizarreo Woman with us - why are all drug dealers weird? - who had a bag of twenty in her pocket.

So we headed home and turned the music up and danced around the lounge room.

Fat Patty lagged behind, on the way back, and then did a disappearing act and freaked out, from what I can gather, roaming the streets, all reported back every fifteen minutes by mobile phone, until she too arrived back some hours after we did. Of course, that is just matter of course for her, it's me, me, me, all the time with that one. In any, every, conversation, she interjects with random comments, usually about herself, with big eyes, in an over dramatic way, which normally pulls you out of what's being said to wonder why she said whatever it is that she said. It's like cohabitating with a demented tourette'ee. I should introduce her to Guido - I wonder if he'll ever return - they'd make the perfect couple, except Guido likes them thin and young and, at least, 50% of the time with a dick.

I feel like shit. Drugs are bad, kids. Wait until you are an adult then you can fuck yourself up with impunity.

I just farted and crapped my track suit pants. Ooo! Do you believe it!!!!!!! In the ensuing palaver, I discovered that Shane left his pot on the coffee table. Now I really feel sideways.

Strawberry muesli is helping.

Damn that sick day on Friday. I'm really feeling as though the migraine Friday was a precursor to some kind of sickness. Gastro. Diarrhoea. I had the worst weekend, I was sick the whole time. Don't know what. Ending on, I crapped the bed, Sunday night, maybe twice, should pretty much cancel any further questions on the matter. It's not that much of a stretch. I don't take many sick days. Nobody will suspect.

Anna and Other Girls

The morning sun shone in through the bedroom window. Clothes were scattered from the bedroom door, across the Persian rug, to the foot of the bed. Men's feet stuck out from under the doona. Hairs on the big toes.

Christopher was stroking Titania's hair.

"Anna said you vant her as your girlfriend," said Titania. "And... Ethan as your boyfriend?"

"Anna said that?" said Christopher.

"Anna said she take her relationship away from you, before it got broken."

"What?" said Christopher. "I don't under..."

"Vhy vould she say that if not true?" asked Titania. "It not something voman normally say."

"She had some idea..."

"Just idea?"

"What? yes... of course," said Christopher. He looked away. "I don't know where she got it from." Titania looked disbelievingly. "She don't just make such thing up."

"She really said that was why she went away," said Christopher. "Because of me?"

"That vhat she say."

They were silent for a moment. Christopher was stunned by what Titania had said. There was that one morning with Ethan, in somebodies house somewhere in St Kilda. They were both really out of it, been partying far too hard. Christopher could hardly remember it. It was all about drugs, pills. Once Christopher got a taste for amphetamines, he'd do anything for more - it was why he didn't do them any more. Ethan was complicit. He must have told Anna, Christopher was surprised.

The silence became thick in the air as Christopher remembered.

"Are you everything you say you are?" said Titania.

"I haven't said I'm anything..."

"By... actions say a lot," said Titania. "You have other things to say?"

"We made no promises," said Christopher. "This is all it is. There are no other things."

Christopher moved to kiss Titania, she moved her head away from him.

"Vhy did your last girlfriend dump you?" She smiled and looked him straight in the eye. "Really?"

"Because I ran hot and cold. Because I was a narcissist. Because I didn't know what I was. Because I am a sex addict." Christopher was amazed at his sudden burst of honesty. He'd been in counselling for nearly twelve months.

They held each other's gaze and they was silent. Christopher eventually smiled. Titania did not.

"They vere your girlfriend's exact words?" said Titania.

"Yes," said Christopher. "They were her exact words.

They just stared at each other.

Titania threw the doona back and stood up.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving." said Titania."

"What?" said Christopher.

"I've been out with you before." Titania pulled on her panties. "My first boyfriend. Just like you." She slid on her pantihose. "You remind me of him so much. So I know what to expect."

"You can't be serious," said Christopher. "Expect what?"

Titania slip on her high heals and tuned topless to face Christopher.

"I see you looking at Jimmy and Varren." She shrugged. "It was the same look as in my first boy friend's eyes. I thought he was just friendly vith everybody, but..." She pulled on her skirt. "Anna was right." She buttoned her leather jacket."

"Anna was right about what?" said Christopher. "What are you saying?"

She bent over and kissed him, wrapped like a pharo in a sheet, on the forehead.

"So beautiful. So loved by everyone. But, in the end, destroyed by his own secrets." She picked up her bag. "I'm saying I don't want to do it again." She walked to the door. "It nearly killed me the first time."

"Huh?"

"Play with your friends, Christopher."

She blew him a kiss and was gone.

Birthday Present

There are pizza crusts across the floor. The central heating has been left on all night. I'm secretly pleased. It's freezing. Not replacing the ageing heating unit this year may have been a mistake. What's with the weather, it's suddenly artic cold in Melbourne. I light a fire. Stuff the environment. Missy lays in front of the orange flames, like she's been on a Machiavellian banquet. Cats do not come with the gene of the shame or guilt variety.

I grind beans. Shivering in the kitchen. I make coffee.

I've got to go and buy Nicholas a birthday present. Twenty seven, years old. I've got all day. Ah! I'm so shit at buying presents. I'd cave and buy him a big bunch of flowers, except, I think, I've done that in previous years. Drat!

I'd like to buy him underpants, the ones with the Superman logo on the front. Apart from being, quite possibly, the handsomest man I know, really pretty masculine - dark hair, piercing blue eyes, beautiful smile - father Italian, mother Australian - according to his boy friend, he literally has the todger of the proverbial horse. Tim swears it's a monster.

I'd like to see Nicholas model the underwear. That adorable smile, those thick hairy legs, that sexy, solid arse, that big... he'd be embarrassed, he'd blush. Adorable!

Of course, Tim wouldn't let him. He keeps Nicholas well in check.

So, what else? No flowers, no underwear? Must mean chocolates.

Sickie

I took the day off. Pulled a sickie. Stayed home. It was just too cold outside. Brrrr!

Central heating on. I'm still cold.

Chop wood. Chat to my neighbour, Bec, still in her dressing gown, hair akimbo, about Macadamias and Emus.

Bec wants to talk. I keep picking up the axe, she keeps starting a new conversation.

Finally, get inside. Light open fire. Light a joint. Make coffee.

Scour Gaydar. Get propositioned.

Watch porn. Have a wank.

Come too in front of the midday movie. Annette Benning in decline. Bitter with a gun.

Missy is nestled next to me like a rock.

Eat grapes. Er, I thought they were seedless.

Cook toast. Smear it in my favourite, at the moment, Seeded Mustard with tuna.

Roll another joint.

Read the newspaper. If you don't believe there are conservative forces in power, they are closing down art exhibitions, in Sydney. Rudd's as much of a book burner as Howard.

Gentle winter light seeps in through my glass ceiling.

Grind beans. Make coffee.

Stoke the fire. Days of our lives. Turn the teev off.

Eat grapes. Drink mushroom soup.

Look at Porches on the internet.

Heavy forehead, brain spins.

Head to bed for afternoon nap.

Is it disturbing that I find the sons from Malcom in the Middle sexy? Not Dewy. But Malcom and Reese, I'd like to see a brotherly double act. As for Francis, I just want to snog him. All that hyperactivity, he'd be lot's of fun.

Come too at 6pm. Stoke fire.

Watch Big Brother. Smoke pot with Shane.

Matt brings home pizzas.

David is in Bali with Tony - it's love, it's real and it's forever.

It is noted as unusual that we haven't heard from David, he's normally more needy than that.

The three of us choof together.

Wake up at midnight on couch alone. Shiver.

Get wood, save fire.

Shane appears - now that I think about it, very busy.

We share two bed time joints.

I head to bed.

 

Parental Leave

If the punters want paid parental leave, why don't we have a HECS style system, where those who are going to take advantage of it opt in and then contribute through their tax. Then the rest of us, who don't have kids, don't have to fund, those who want kids, life style choices.

Personally, I'm happy for any slack in population to be filled through immigration. After all, there is no shortage of people on the planet, it is one of the planet's greatest problems, it's just distribution which seems to be in need of attention.

Storks

It's all about the stork; big storks, little storks, black storks, white storks, storks that carry babies, storks that just want to have fun, storks that want to play together, hang together. We're impressed by them, disappointed by them, tug at them, chase them, want them, desire them, compare them, dock them. Play light-sabres with them, hell, some people are even envious of them.

It's all about the stork.

Is your stork bigger than my stork?

Put it in your mouth, even just for a minute. Go on. I promise I'll tell you before I...

Look at the stork on him. Jesus! What's he got in there?

Leave it alone, Johnny. You know what they say?

Boy's will be boys!

Hello – just checking you still all good for tomorrow night. I'm heading off early from work for a Drs appt but will be back in city after that. Let me know what time is good for you (as that will determine whether I trudge back to work or head off to a cafe or do a spot of shopping before we catch up). 

Kym

Subject: Hello, hello, hello

Still good for tomorrow. Usual Bat Time... 17.30? Does that sound okay?

(christian)

I went to mums and took her shopping, despite the fact that (brother) Will is staying. They didn’t have any food, said mum. Your brother won’t be home until midnight and I need to get food before then.

Of course, Will was due home at 9.30, by the time I got there.

SMS. 19.58. Hey Sebastian, how are you? Smiling? Meeting nice girls to make your tail wag? I bought your presents home that you left up @ Bolago, Mr Airhead. So, we’ll have to catch up soon. Hang out? Exchange pressys. Kisses – christian

SMS. 20.02. Hi Chriso. I’m all good. Wanted to call you tomorrow and ask if I could come along. Are you home? – Sebastian

SMS. 20.08. I’m not home tomorrow night. I’m out for dinner with a girl... more than I’ve heard you do, huh? She takes me home and all – christian

SMS. 20.10. Chriso boy... please let me do the rest, if not, poor little girl – Sebastian

SMS. 20.22. Why do you get all the fun? – christian

Everybody Should Get Stoned

Ah, stoned again. Shane and I watched Teev. Open fire every night this week.

A cloud hovered over the coffee table, under the light. The flames flickered orange. The windows were black.

You know, it amuses me how the conservative forces, who have now invaded every tear of Government - working families, mums, dad, kids - have managed to demonised pot into a drug with big, spooky, bogey man.

Of course, the media jumps all over it to sell newspapers.

Now they are saying in people with a particular faulty gene. Isn't that the same as saying people who are predisposed to the detrimental effects, which is what they have always said about smoking pot. So, nothing has, actually, changed.

Do they understand how many people smoke it?

Everybody I know smokes pot. Most of the people I meet smoke pot, from all age groups. I was at a wedding, recently, hanging with the bride and groom when the bride pulled a joint from the bodice of her wedding dress and asked me if I wanted to share it.

Half the population would be going nuts.

Well, it's something to think about when you roll your bed time joint, I guess.

David & Tony Go To Bali

David went to Bali this morning, with American Tony. They are going to be gone for two weeks, lucky them. Tony was due to go home after Bali, but because it's rich and real and love forever, David wanted him to stay longer. David was really nervous when he asked me.

"Tony wants to stay longer and he can change his ticket easily."

"A-ha," I said.

"Now, I know you said you didn't want more than 3 people in the house at any given time and of course I want him to stay longer, but it is up to you."

"I see," I said.

"So how long can he stay?"

"How long does he want to stay," I said. I knew full well it was August that we were talking about. Just say it, David.

"It's up to you," said David. "One week, two weeks, you say."

"But how long does he want to stay?"

"You tell me."

"Okay," I said. "I'll get back to you." Then with one thing and another, I didn't see Shane until last night. David was stressed to the max, by that stage, not that I had realised.

David came to my office door, just as my washing stopped. "Um?" said David, looking terrible. Click off, goes the washing machine. "Have you had a chance to talk to Shane."

"Yes," I said, being deliberately aloof, heading to the washing machine. There was a part of me that still thought it was too much. But, most of me thought in the spirit of being generous, I should just think of David. But, perversely, a part of me wasn't giving up the doubt, oh so easily.

"He can stay as long as he likes," I said. "If it gets too much Shane and I have unchallengeable veto power, at any time." I picked my shirts out of the machine and headed to the other room. David followed. "So you had better keep us happy."

David put his hands together in front of himself and started to cry. "I've been so stressed about it." Then he burst into tears. He does drama best out of the three of us.

The Seasons in Melbourne

It's suddenly like the arctic in Melbourne.

I love the seasons of the capitol of the south. I love to feel hot and free. I love to feel cold and encapsulated. 

I like to feel the difference.

Mondayitis

Ha ha, so much bubble Gum

 Subject: Oi!

U working or just pretending like me?

Rachel

Subject: Oi!

Oh... I've turned up and I look as though I'm working. But, you know, I'm feeling a bit flat today. I gotta jolly myself out of this mood. But really, I just feel like sitting very still in one spot and staring at the horizon.

I've been feeling a bit sick today and have had diarrhoea for the last twenty four hours. I won't share with you what happened at 3am, suffice to say, it wasn't pretty. I didn't know I could wake out of a deep sleep so instantly and spring into action within nanoseconds of waking. Still can't get the smell completely off my left hand.

Wan smile.

Christian

Subject: Oi!

Hmmm, sorry I tapped anything to you.... Well, I will refrain from sharing runny pooh stories with you cos as you know I would definitely win. Not with regaling my own runny pooh moments but those of the children (of which there are many)

Suffice to say wash yr hands with soap & then bleach. If that doesn’t work give up and shove the soap & bleach up yr nose.

There's nothing quite like the need to pooh NOW is there? I last experienced it in Vietnam and whilst I could hold it in for a good 10 to 20 seconds it was quite amazing the bodies urgency to get rid of what was inside!!! Thank God for sphincter (sp) muscles....think I will keep that one exercised.

Speaking of slack ones poor little Anton is at an Old Age home doing a week of community service. What a load of bollocks I say but it’s part of the school curriculum AND it did allow us to have breakfast out together....

speaking of food, I have come into work and done fuck all, looked up my stars, written a couple of emails and kept looking vaguely toward the cellar door trying to ignore the mess that lies beneath. It’s like having to go tidy your bedroom.....

Maybe I will nick out to Cafe Racer for a coffee, after all it must be lunch time surely....

Rachel

Subject: Oi!

Port Philip bay looks dreamy turquoise, sublime with a gentle ray of sunshine glinting across it. I'd like to be out there in a little boat with all that calm water around me; feet up, smell the fresh air, feel the gentle lap lap of the water, as I pulled my hat down over my eyes and caught a few zzzzzz's. Not a care.

Christian

Subject: Oi!

Well in reality it would be freezing and you'd be wanting a nice hot coffee & then you'd get to thinking about lunch which would bring about a certain restlessness that would have you hot footing it into shore & in to the closest cafe.

Nice thought tho...

Jill rescued me from sure boredom JUST as I was about to open the cellar door, she rang & we went for lunch. I love her for that one phone call!!!!!!

I have washed last night’s roast dinner dishes, about to put a load of washing on then I might pop over the road & have a glass of wine with my girlfriend.

Now....if I could squeeze an hour of wanton sex in there (not with the husband, of course) my day would be complete. xx Rachel

Subject: Oi!

What about the young Greek real estate agent?

Christian

Subject: Oi!

Ha, ha. I should give him your number?

Rachel