Started Smoking Again

I started smoking again, stupid me, but I just couldn't ignore that grind of addiction today.

Ah, the nicotine monkey, it is hard to shake.

Sign of the Disposable Times

Give us back Janis and Jimmy

and

we'll send you Katy and Justin

and

the world will be a more interesting place

and

all I can say is, the best are taken too soon

and

what we are left with, are poor imitations

and

we are poorer for it

Idiot Words

The idiot words, awesome and the biggy disrespect.

I guess it gives the stupid a vocabulary that they wouldn't normally have, that they can blurt out in time of joy or distress, but do they have to mangle the language quite so much?

I reckon it's about time you stop the circle of disrespect you have created.

The woman is unforgivable for what she has done, but the brother is worse, it is his own blood he has lied to, deceived and disrespected.

Do they ever stop to look at what they have just said? I guess not.

And, of course, "I am offended."

The correct response to which is, "So you are offended, so what?"

Leo

Leonardo DiCaprio has just split with his model girlfriend. What is it with movie stars and model girlfriends? Like oranges and lemons or swings and roundabouts, they seem to go together, like they don't have enough good fortune already.

Apparently, Leo has an enormous schlonger... he whacks his leg somewhere just above the knee... Down to here.

According to the girls at the Playboy Mansion, that is. The size of Leo's appendage is. I hold my hands apart. Yes, er, the girls in the Playboy Mansion. A reputable source, you ask? Haha. 

I watch all sorts of crap TV with Mark and Luke. They love their TV.

Apparently, the young good looking actors get in for free, or get the goodies for free, or party hard for nothing, or something. There are many perks to being young, handsome and successful, apparently.

Ain't that the fucken truth. I remember it well.

The Bitches Were Looking Nervous Today

The bitches were in a huddle when I got there. Renee Gord and her now puffy face. Poor bitch, she looks so stressed it is taking away her good looks. The bright eyes, the luxurious skin and the shiny hair have all gone. Her cheeks are puffy, her eyes tired and her hair, more often than not, tied into a kind of messy bun on her head. Well, I guess that's what happens when you don't really know what you are doing and you wing it. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't.

And Kylie, business as usual, matter of fact, outwardly efficient, but secretly inaccurate rat-faced Kylie.

The two of them looked under the pump when I got I got in. Kylie mumbled some sort of hello, Renee didn't bother.

Kyles worked away, I think, furiously. She seemed to have a lot to do when I checked up on her secretly. She seemed to be doing some sort of journals, when she should have been doing comparison spread sheets.

I have pulled back. In Renee's executive style, she has taken my work away from me and given it to Kylie and she has given me the tedious, simple stuff, which I have knocked over in no time, or, at least I will, but Kylie is struggling with my work and Renee isn't sufficiently across it to identify Kylie's errors, despite the impression she tires to convey.

Renee clicked her fingers at me and asked me to go over what they couldn't get to work. Clicking her fingers? Maybe, I should have been outraged, but secretly I was chuffed, it meant the Gord Bitch was so under the pump that she would resort to such things. Yes, I thought, good to see.

It Was Cold Today

The bitches were looking nervous today. I'm in a sea of eostrogen every working day of my life.

It was cold today, quite chilly, and you know, it was all I heard all day.

“Oh isn’t it cold,” drawled Kylie, sounding dumb in a Queensland kind of way. (No, it's because you are another species) She's not dumb, she just sounds like it. You know that whine Queenslanders have perfected, that whine where they never open their mouth as they whine.

“Yes, isn’t it cold,” said, aging before my eyes with the stress, Renee. (She's looking more and more like Miss Prissy as the days pass)

“Oh, it’s cold in here isn’t it,” said fat, forever talking, Georgie. (Fat and dull, no wonder you can't find yourself a man)

“Isn’t it cold,” said deathly looking anorexic Bethany  rugged up in a jacket and a scarf all day inside and still nobody says anything. No one in the company cares if she lives or dies, otherwise they would have intervened by now. (Nobody cares about you, Bethany  do you understand. Nobody.)

Fat, boring Georgie idolises the ground Renee walks on. Renee can't stop acting the know all, but she is mean with it, she doesn't try to help anyone with her, alleged, superior knowledge, just herself, only ever herself. And Kylie just wants to retire to her bush block in Quinslund. And Bethany? Hopefully she'll be dead before too long.

After All The Years, I Forget What Miserable Slags They Were

One of their cunts smelt, putrid bitch. There was no mistaking it. I could smell it wafting around my nostrils, every so often, like passing clouds, that damp, musky, rank odour just passing over me, by me.

Did I have to bring in a flannel and some phenyl and order them to the ladies?

Was it Rachel, or was it Kylie? I so wanted it to be Rachel, all perfect on the outside, but rotten to the core, dripping out her fistula, but I suspect it was probably northern nuffy Kylie. It's usually the simpleton.

I wanted to say, take yourself away and wash your filth, woman.

I wondered if it was nylon panties across her red lips, excreting gunge. Or was it dirty knickers not washed, the reason for her shame. I know it's cold in the bathroom in the mornings, but you've got to wash that thing.

Of course, she looked quite happy, they say a dog can't smell it's own rancidness. Getting up with fleas, indeed.

2026. Oh yeah, Okay. Wow! Did I write the above. The years have passed and I forget now how miserable those cows made my life. But still, wow, I must have been pissed that day

The two slags huddled over the monthly figures and seemed to struggle.

They asked me to check the support company when it go to, now what was it, an hour past the first sign off for the monthly figures.

What do you think the effect on self proclaimed control freak Kylie would have been to me finding something like 20 mistakes? So many mistakes that needed to be fixed. Yeah, good call Rachel, this one is a keeper.

Kylie went home with a head ache, around 4pm after all the work was done, I guess, as a reward for her incompetence.

Maybe he nylons were wedge up her patootie? No, just no

It was good to get out of there, away from the dirty slags. (Can you pick that I don’t like them? Really? What gave it away?)

Sam worked late and when he got home the cover had blown off his sky light. He didn’t notice straight away, but as he is taking a leak he looked at the floor and wondered why it was wet? Then he looked up to see the lid to the skylight had blown off.

That gave me my first laugh for the day. Sad really.

I Hear It's The Latest Thing

I've seen a lot of mix race couples around lately... as much as I hate to use that particular term.

They look gorgeous together.

I hear it's the latest thing to be an Asian Caucasian mix couple.

Cutting edge love.

 

Lady Ga Ga

Sebastian and Luke cooked, Sunday night dinner in front of the open fire. Poofs night in. Mark and Luke were down for mother's day. Princess Charming was here too, of course, no show without him. He bought wine and chocolate. We watched Lady Ga Ga's Monster Ball tour. Luke and Sebastian bought the pot. Ga Ga's pretty fierce. Isn't she lucky she's had all those diva's who came before her, to draw on. She's certainly got the chops, though, Madonna could only dream about singing like that.

I reckon now, if she wants to completely capture twenty first century pop culture, she should blow Harry Potter. One night on drugs in London she and Daniel Radcliff off their faces. And then sing about it. That would be hot.

Night In

I watched dvds in front of the open fire, with my sweet boyfriend. Nice, huh?

The Kings Speech. Some stupid si fi movie called Skyline, which made no sense whatsoever. And Eat Pray Love.

I cooked pasta. But, I didn't cook my signature dish, as Sam called my tomato, olive, chilli and tuna sauce, the other day, realising that he was saying it, at least in part, as a little sarcastically, that, maybe, that that was the only pasta sauce I knew.

This much. Fingers held up just millimetres apart.

So, I made tomato, basil and choritzo sausage. I think he was impressed.

Tony's Eyes Are Called His Best Feature by Some People, And What Scares People By Others

Friday Morning

My eyes cracked open and gazed at the clock next to my bedside table and the numbers said 9.24am and I was pleased. I thought about the world whirring away beyond my walls and wondered how it would view the people who, like me, still lay with their heads on the pillow, with one arm hanging down beside the mattress with their fingers strumming the carpet, absentmindedly.

Did I care? I mean, what else should any reasonable person be doing on a Friday morning?

Truthfully, I'd already been up at 7am to take a leak, the whole 9 to 5 brainwashing runs deep, bing awake, but somehow that morning-off-leak is made even more glorious by the fact that I can slip myself back between the sheets when I had shaken the last drips off.

It was cold and my feet were feeling the chill, winter is here for sure. That now seemed an age ago.

Radio National were talking about the value of work and how Australia used to be the land of the long weekend but in the last twenty years we have morphed into the land of the lost weekend with Australians now working longer hours and putting in more unpaid overtime than just about any other western country.

I adjusted my pillow and rolled over and snuggled down into the warmth.

Tick, tick, tick. I knew it was nearly time to get up, but who could blame me for wanting to luxuriate for just a little longer. Mean hearted politicians, I guess, whose re-election prospects somehow now hinged on getting even the sick off welfare to get the budget back into surplus. I thanked the universe I wasn't on welfare, I thanked it again that I could fund my own days off, in this increasingly mean and conservative society we now live in. Somehow, I don't believe our new-mean society could have sunk to those new depths. Personally, I choose to believe the politicians have read the polling wrong on that one.

However, the roller door man was coming between 10am and 11am, to view the carcass off my roller door and to somehow perform a modern day miracle by raising the dead once more. Jesus in a tray ute, no doubt. 

At 9.55am, I slid out of bed, pulled on my black hoodie and my black track pants and headed to the bathroom mirror where I heard an almost involuntary inhale of air as I viewed the apparition staring back and immediately wonder about the "matchy matchy" outfit, as they say, (maybe I have been watching too much Project Runway) that I was wearing. Maybe, I should think about my brown track pants with my new black top in future. Apparently, you shouldn't wear the same colour track pants and track top, you should break it up.

At exactly 10am, the roller door man called to say he was running late and that he’d be here sometime around midday. 

Was that okay?

Yes, of course.

Has anyone ever had a tradesman turn up on time?

I poured the coffee beans into the grinder and watched them disintegrate through the clear lid, as the motor whirred and the whole thing vibrated in my hands.

I poured the milk over my muesli and wondered if the roller door man would take one look at me and think, Now about that outfit?

Sam and I Played With a Cute Dog in the Street

Hello Handsome

I’d been contemplating BreadTop ever since I’d walked passed it this morning, regretting that I didn’t stop, cursing that there wasn’t a second shop on my way. The universe only knows how many 7/11’s there are.

I was reassuring myself that I’d done the right thing, as I’d eaten my muesli and drank my coffee and BreadTop is really only junk food, the equivalent of a McDonald's big breakfast, or stopping into the sweets shop and buying a bag of lollies.

I glanced sideways, you know, as you do, as I felt the presence of another human being next to me, to be met with a vision of masculine beauty.

I want to lick your lolly, is all I could think as the handsome boy in a suite stood next to me waiting to cross at the lights on William Street.

It was cold, sure and maybe I looked as though I could do with some warming up. You know, a warm drink, possibly.

I must have been staring, as he looked sideways at me with his beautiful big eyes, as he adjusted his ear phones in each of his ears, smiling at me, his forehead creasing in the most adorable way. He looked just as I had the lolly thought, which is what made me smile, as I wondered if he could read minds and if he had heard what I'd just thought. Maybe he was from the planet Giibour and he was doing field work.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a smile of greeting. Beautiful, really beautiful, he was. Square jaw, dark wavey hair, blue eyes, he kind of glowed with vitality in the morning light.

The corners of my mouth curled up too, because I was staring him in the eye and I was still thinking about his lolly.

We both just looked, momentarily and I wondered if there was any truth in the idea that eye contact with a stranger in the street was finishing off unfinished business from a previous lifetime.

The small red man turned to green and he kind of nodded and stepped forward. I held up my hand, my fingers split in the middle forming into two groups of two.

The Corporate Mantra – There Is Always Someone Else To Blame

Beck, my old manager, her new manager goes off and screams and yells and swears and generally blows her top, at the slightest provocation, for no apparent reason, alarmingly, to the point where Beck doesn't think she'll be able to put up with it for much longer.

Ah, the corporate world.

Beck left the "black" law firm so burnt out by the executive staff that she no longer wanted any position of authority, so she has been doing the equivalent of what I do. I never wanted her job, as I used to do the managers/exec job before I worked for Beck and I never wanted to deal with the humourless work-is-my-life manager bags of self-focused corporate wind, again. I was quite happy to work under Beck while she dealt with the executive wannabies/try hards/nut jobs. I found the extra pay just wasn't worth it.

Beck now agrees with me, executive positions come with thankless executive hours and incompetent superiors all desperately paddling up the corporate management line for their bonus', blaming whoever comes within arms' length with their mistakes.

The corporate mantra - there is always someone else to blame.

She told her new boss to give her all the work and she'd happily do it, just to leave her alone and let her get on with it. But no, her boss has to be a psycho cunt. So many psycho cunts, so few coronary occlusions, plummeting lifts and corporate terrorists.

Beck and I have been having commiserative lunches.

You see back at the "black" law firm I have witnessed a couple of startling developments. There have been two occasions where I have been pulled into Big Renee's office where my skills and abilities have been questioned. Big Renee and Little Renee presented their evidence of my ineptitude together, none of which  actually made sense to me. Here is where the startling part comes in, upon further investigation, back in my office, the work I have been criticised over is not my work at all. Now, I'm not sure how, but either Little Renee has re-done parts of my work, for whatever reason I am unsure, and she has got it all wrong and then attempted to shift the blame onto me, or she is deliberately setting me up. And her re-doing and replacing my work with incorrect work does not make any sense.

Therefore, I am left to ponder what it all means?

So both Beck and I will both immanently be looking for new jobs.

Why so many psycho cunts? Beck asked me. The short answer is, I don't know. Surely, it is much easier to work in a cooperative collective to achieve acceptable outcomes for the good of the company.

Ba, ba! Wrong!

The long complex answer is, so many people work for so many reasons. Power. Prestige. God complex. Self focus. Inferiority complexes. Bitterness. Therapy for childhood trauma/abuse. Mental disease. To gain meaning in their otherwise empty and unhappy lives... the list goes on.

Sadly, the well adjusted amongst us, e.g. Beck and I, have to endure all forms of psychosis just to earn a buck. It's a fact of life.

Frankie Smokes Bongs As Soon As He Wakes Up Most Days

Bin Laden

It's a sad day when we celebrate the death of another human being, no matter what kind of terrible things that human being has done. The only way to heal is to forgive and move on. Maybe there should be a quiet dignified end to an awful situation. Maybe? Silence and contemplation. But it doesn't call for celebration, it doesn't call for partying, it doesn't call for joy on the streets.

This is what the new psycho patriotism leads to.

What exactly is it that America is celebrating? It can only be revenge. It can only be an eye for an eye. It can only be a celebration of blood and death and killing. That's what the world's most civilised society has come to. As the death of Bin Laden won't, actually, change any thing. It won't stop terrorism. It won't change fanaticism. It won't change most of the worlds negative feelings towards America. It won't change the fact that America meddled in the affairs of the middle east for its own gain. It wont change the deceit and dirty tricks that America has been involved in. It wont change anything.

It won't expunge the blood from Americas hands.

Lovely Lisa & Karl

Karl's Wife's Arse

I thought it was kind of nice that Karl Stefanovic thanked his wife and said she had the sexiest arse around.

How can it be "icky" as the more puritanical amongst us have said, to say that you think your wife of sixteen years is still sexy.

It's naughty, it's sexy, it's a positive nod for the more liberal thinking amongst us and takes us away from the wowser, anti sex christian types, who no longer call themselves christian types - have you noticed that? Woman's forum, Family Association, Collective Cuddle, whatever - who seem to be gaining traction in the thinking of the more and more conservative general public.

"Oh think about the children," they say, as code for "believe in the values that we believe in."

The word "arse" probably does the children good, not harm, if it has any effect at all. It's a great word, true, honest, real. If anything "arse" is funny. Bums are funny.

Of course, this all leads on to Karl's arse, he put it out there and now we have licence to think about his arse. So Karl, show us your arse... we want to see your arse.