The Queen reportedly stunned guests at a Windsor Castle party by strutting her stuff to Abba’s Dancing Queen.
Radio presenter Chris Evans told listeners a friend had been at the party. “The meal was had, the speeches were made and then the disco commenced. Apparently, she loves to get down on the dance floor.
“That’s a true story and she said audibly to the guests around her: ‘I always try to dance when this song comes on because I like to dance and I am the Queen.”
MX 20th June 2008
I noticed a blonde boy in a blue suit on the tram, as I stood up to get off. He adjusted his pants, you know I looked as he walked toward me to the middle door. Thirtyish. Handsome. I stopped next to him, rather than continuing to front door, like I usually do. He continued to adjust, his jacket, his tie, his cufflinks. Nice suit, fitted him well.
He glanced in my direction, right next to him looking at him. Blond hair and a nice mouth, kind of interesting, slightly turned up at each corner. I slid my eyes down his front. He looked down. Then he glanced back quickly.
The tram stopped he got out in front of me. He had a masculine walk, manly. Two thick legs firmly placed on the ground, as the line of his suit fitted nicely over his arse.
He looked back, as he went left and I went right. I smiled.
He looked back all the way down Bourke Street.
"Yeah, buddy," I thought. "I'm interested too. Nice."
I’ll be keeping my eye for him, in the mornings, let me tell you. The 8.30 tram.
I'm home again, it's a glorious sunny day, looking out from the inside with the central heating going and not being able to feel the chill in the air out side.
As much as I might deny it to myself, trying to convince myself that I'm just tired, I know I'm pissed off about my small pay rise and bonus; the pay rise is not even one hundred dollars a week and the bonus well, I'd like to tell them to shove it up their arses.
I don't know why I'm shitty about it, I know the process, I knew it was coming.
You see, what really shits me the most is the fact that our executive director of HR messed up the remuneration process, in the first place, by using a flawed model and she bought in a budget that was 600K short, which she reported to our COO. She knew her model didn't balance when she gave it to the analyst who was in charge of the details of the rem process. Our analyst told her quickly where the fault was and adjusted the forecast. After which, the exc director went about shaving every bodies ratings down in a desperate attempt to bring the rem increases within her models range, to save face mostly, but also to save her pay rise on her 500K salary and her 100K bonus.
This woman is absolutely useless, every thing she touches she messes up, usually finding someone to blame, generally a disgruntled staff member who has conveniently left the firm. I've seen it happen over and over. As one of the HR managers said to me recently, in hushed tones, "I'm still yet to determine exactly what value the exc director brings to the company."
Our nat director of HR would only say that she was a very driven woman.
She has scant knowledge of HR. I heard from a source at her previous employer that her departure was not regretted, although it would be denied by them.
The woman is a nightmare, everything she touches she seemingly fucks up. A number of HR managers have said that they don't want to ever have to report to her again.
But some how our CEO loves her. She has managed to win us a few awards, which seem to dazzle the CEO. Lets take Female employer of choice; I saw the data, I think she (finally, 10th attempt) cut it from April to March 2006/2007 with a totally unrelated base year of 2004. Essentially, she is so driven that fraud is a viable option for her. And the CEO is sucked in and the rest of us lesser mortals suffer through her incompetence.
How she keeps her job, is a complete mystery? I reckon, as clichéd as this is, she must be sleeping with the CEO. No other explanation fits.
Of course, I'm just a, relative, shit kicker in the company - even if I do have application knowledge that nobody in the firm has, being the connection between finance and HR - but it is end of financial year and they will be jittery about my absence. But they can just suck my dick while I lounge around at home contemplating life.
I should call a few agencies to see what jobs are on offer. I would, if I wasn't such a lazy bastard.
Did I mention that it was my 5 year anniversary this month. That should be long enough for anyone to work in one job.
So, 9.30. It must be time for a joint and a little brewed coffee, just to ease into the day.
I made it out the door, I wanted cigarettes. I got to the milk bar and realised I didn't have a lighter, but the nice milk bar lady produced one for me. I stood on the footpath and inhaled, as a tram sailed by. I took another puff and looked back the other way to see another tram approaching, just behind the other. I puffed on my cigarette and observed that the 2nd tram was practically empty. I contemplated chucking the cigarette and making a run for it - really, just across the road. I looked back the other way to see if a 3rd tram was coming, feeling a bit like a clown at the carnival, as I did. Tram number 2 pulled away and tram number 3 didn't materialise. I watched both 1 & 2 disappear out of sight, around the corner into Nicholson Street.
There was a soft sun and a gentle breeze. I looked at the time, it was 8.34. I looked up and down Gertrude Street a few more times, still feeling like the clown. Close your mouth Christian, I thought. I laughed to myself. It seemed like such a gentle, calm morning standing there on the footpath watching the world go by. Life. I looked at the time again and it was 8.40. Then, I don't know why, I just thought fuck it, I'm going home. Just like that. No agonising over the decision, like I usually do. No second thoughts, none. I headed back into the milk bar and bought the newspaper and then sauntered back down Gertrude Street to home, feeling free and brewed some coffee.
Mark and I went to see Frost/Nixon at the MTC. We both loved it, thought it was great.
Frost over acted, but Nixon was particularly convincing. The narrator was sexy, nice bulge in his pants.
We sat behind Jeff Kennett and Felicity. She looked great. He looked fat.
Got up early. And wrote. Transferred all my (150) sms’ to my journal. Had my first joint at 8.30am. Went back to bed, 10.30am. Wanked. Got to the hairdresser at midday. I wanted sexy Sam to cut my hair, but I got the Asian chick. She did a good job. I closed my eyes and drifted, let her do her thing. I was stoned. [2008] I’m an imaginative fella, I can pretend it was sexy Sam running his hands through my hair.
Got to the pet food shop before it closed. Bought pet food for Missy, Fred and Spook. Got to mums at 2pm. We ate for pies for lunch. She is always pleased to see me, even if she says the days are fine for her, it is the evenings that she finds hard on her own.
Got home at 16.30.
I got to Cinema Nova to see Shine a Light at 17.00. It was hot. I guess, you'd have to be a Stones fan. Great cinematography. We were right up on stage with them.
I sniffed around Borders afterwards. Lots of people in Lygon Street. Bought two drinks on the way home to quench my unquenchable thirst. Don’t know what that about.
Rolled my second joint.
Shane went to Matt’s.
David is in his room.
It’s 20.45.
I should head out to a sex club. Get my dick sucked. Suck a dick. You know, just to make the evening pass. I always think about James at moments like these. Now James had a blood great dick on him. Like a piece of granite in your mouth. That was a dick to suck on.
We went to see Sex and the City, last night. Victoria Gardens, Shane must have booked the tickets. David & I are much more Cinema Nova. It was okay, a bit same old same old. It was just a movie. It made me laugh out loud, quite a lot, even if it never occurred to me to cry. (Mark's seen it twice and has cried both times)
David thought it was too intense, but then he has just split from the love of his life. Shane thought they were dysfunctional for the sake of being dysfunctional. I guess he meant he could see the construct of the story, which clearly wasn't seamless. I thought, a couple of times, how long is this movie?
I've turned into a chronic masturbator. I've got a great porn collection.
I think I need a boyfriend.
I've got to stop smoking pot. I've got to stop doing nothing.
I think I need some goals, above my waist.
It's those long, dark winter's nights; bunker down, keep warm.
It's company. Distraction.
It's all there is. Sensation.
I think Josh Lawson is hot. He'd make a perfect boyfriend.
I wanted to lick him, Monday night, flirting with Paul Mcd
My previous boyfriend of the Josh Lawson type, Mark. Luke is too. Mark and Luke are so alike.
(for those who have just joined us, Mark and I were long time boyfriends. Luke entered our relationship, and sometime later I left. That's how it goes sometimes.)
The beautiful Sebastian goes home to Italy, today. Cheeky, gorgeous, handsome Sebastian. He's been offered his old job back, tour guide in Europe. Taking tours all over the continent. He can speak five languages. Some people have it hard.
He told me I made him laugh, as we hugged in Bourke Street. He said he'd miss me.
Look after yourself, I said. I'll miss you lots.
Tight squeeze. I didn't want to let him go, he felt nice, safe, in my arms... for a straight boy.
I'll miss his, "Oh my gord," in his Italian accent, when he is amazed, or surprised by some thing.
I'll miss his fun and his enthusiasm and his coolness with the world.
I'll miss his coy, bashful look when I tell him something sexual. Or his playfulness, like when I told him I'd look when he suggested going to a nude beach.
Smart. Funny. Handsome. Such a nice, easy going guy. There should be more like him.
I'll miss him. Ah, well, I guess it is a good reason to go to Italy.
Apparently, we're all going to Greece, next year. Mark told me, as he, Luke & Sebastian had coffee with me in Bourke Street this afternoon. Sebastian's last coffee. Our friend Millie has a house in Greece, in the Peloponnese. I guess that makes up for this year. Luke is off to Cambodia on Sunday, for a month, to complete some work he did with orphans. Then he's meeting Mark in Vietnam for another month. He won't be home until the end of August. They didn't invite me.
"You wouldn't have been able to get the time off," said Mark, as his excuse.
"It still would have been nice to have been asked," I said.
"Get off your arse and start writing," said Mark. "Then you could have holidays whenever you liked."
