Adorable

I love his broody face the best, that’s when he looks his most handsome. Smiling is nice especially when he is smiling at me. Blush. But, no, it’s the broody, or thinking, face where his face becomes triangular and his ears point... it is adorable.

Haiku

Grey wet cold dark,

the expressions on faces;

life's peak-hour bleak

The beating of the earth.

Faces peer through bus windows;

it's a modern world.

The grey coastline

wanders by the silent sea.

Dip toes in life again.

Come join me, let's see where kissing takes us.

He Just Seemed Like A Privileged Brat

The Cousins documentary wasn't that shocking, it wasn't very confronting, no matter how many times the television station says it for publicity, it doesn't make it so.

He just seemed like a privileged brat who enjoyed his drugs and his money and his good times, which the powers that be didn't like.

Mark came over while I was watching it and said, Do we have to watch boguns with money?

It was just a PR exercise, anyway. Ben's now left football and he's drumming up interest in him as a brand and it is the only story he has to tell. It's an act of contrition for whatever is in store for him in the future.

Then we have to have another panel of "experts" giving their opinion, towing the line of perceived societal views. It kind of dawned on me that the panel's kids, if the not the panel itself, have probably done the same thing, just that they don't have a high enough profile, or weren't pretty enough, for anyone to be interested, or they haven't been caught.

It was pretty dull to tell you the truth. We turned it over and watched something else.

He did look pretty dancing in his undies grabbing his cock. They all looked like they were having a good time in the home movies.

The crime that isn't a crime. The victimless crime because everyone partaking are willing. Ben had to act contrite because he was trying to save his income, his career.

How many of the AFL players do you think take recreational drugs? 50% 80% I reckon it wouldn't be far off.

Pumpkin

I use all the cute names for Sam. Pumpkin, sunshine, it gives me perverse pleasure. I say it ironically. It makes me laugh and makes me feel alive with the world.

Sweetie.

Well, perhaps not alive with the world, more laughing at it, ha, ha.

He smiles and his eyes sparkle and he tilts his head. I love it that his expression still has some of the you-are-mad about it, still. Forever. He doesn't usually respond. He just looks at me and smiles.

But, sometimes I hear myself say it. Off  guard, automatic, off the cuff. Not deliberate. And I sound just like every revolting couple who I've, mentally, chastised every time I've heard them using the same, cutesy, names. May a house fall on your mother.

And, then I reassure myself that I'm not that person and I vow to fight against it in future. Say it, but say it when you mean it.

I don't want you to become a cliche. I want you to stay as fresh and exciting as you are now.

... pumpkin.

 

More Crazy Talk

I said to Shane. "You know, the next best person for Prime Minister, let's face it, is Malcolm Turnbull." There's hardly an excess of talent in the political arena. "So, the Libs can have a shot next, with him at the helm."

Shane thought for a minute, then shook his head. He backed away from me, as his eyes opened and took me in. "A Liberal govt... that's what you are saying?"

How much difference would you say there is between the two major political parties?

"We need Julia as PM this time around, if for no other reason than for the impersonators who are going to pop up. I've heard some who have just cracked me up already."

Not that I'll be voting Liberal any time soon. But, you know, if the people who actually matter in our elections, those in the marginal seats, want to throw Labour out, do it at the next election, when Big Ears hasn't a hope of ruling.

I live in the electorate of Melbourne and we've already spoken. Well done guys. You know, I don't really care about global warming, I don't have any kids. The first fifty years of this century will, by all accounts, probably be okay, but increasingly it's not looking too bright for the second half of the century. But just thinking logically, it is clearly the most pressing problem the world faces today. Making more money for the small number of people who own all of the wealth is becoming less important. The people are going to have to speak up on this issue, and in Melbourne they have. Come on the rest of the country, catch up.

But, I think Malcolm Turnbull is a good guy. That's all I'm saying.

Poor old Julia, huh? Minority government? Seems to be a trend around the world. Tasmania. England. The people are speaking, they are tired of not being listened to. They are tired of the political spin. They are tired of politics by numbers. Let's face it, The Rudd government was elected on environmental issues as one of the hot political topics. And what did they do with it? They gave it a shot, at best. They dropped it when it got to difficult, as they veered to the right in their leaning.

Nothing else is going to matter, if the planet dies. That much I do know.

But, did you hear Kevin Rudd's electorate win speech? He did go on... and on. Buddy, that's why we dumped you as leader. What are you saying?

David, who is absolutely clueless when it comes to politics - couldn't, once, name the Prime Minister or what political party was in power - said, "Oh it was fine. There was a sex party, so I voted for that."

The Face Of Insanity

Stop This Crazy Talk

Oh, my dirty secret about Tony Abbott? The one I admitted to Shane one night late on vodka and pot. 

"You know, sometimes, when I look at him, I find I can have dirty thoughts about him, before I check myself, before I pull myself up."

"What?" slurred Shane, from his slumped position on the other couch.

"It just happens, before I know it, first sight and all."

"You fancy..." he looked like he'd rather vomit than repeat what he, incredulously, took my point to mean.

"He's a good looking man."

"Tony Abbott?" Big eyes and expression.

"Funnily enough, only in his suit, never in the Lycra business. He looks a dick on the beach. But shirt and ties, in a suit, some of them fit him mighty fine, he looks healthy, physical, as they say, fit."

"He is Satan personified!"

"He's got big dick attitude."

"May I remind you of his political theories."

"Cute smile, even if, oddly, I find his laugh quite distracting."

"You must stop this crazy talk." Shane sat up on the couch and gave me his full gaze. "Tony Abbott is not cute and you must never talk of this again."

"I'd like to be staring him in the eye, as I undid the fly to his suit."

Just to see all of his catholic guilt well in his eyes. I'm sure it's suit, school uniform, school days, welling guilt. Most likely.

"People have been asked to leave this house and live else where for such heresy." Shane said. "By you... but it's your house."

"I'd like to slide his suit pants down over his arse. He's super fit. Great body."

Shane had put his fingers in his ears.

"Of course, the moment he spoke, it would be all over. That voice, that laugh. There is something slightly insane about it. It's not hot. He'd tell me what he thought, I'd go soft."

Shane had his fingers in his ears and was making la la noises.

Shane's the only person I ever told. Just sometimes, when I look at him, caught off guard quite possibly. You know, that oo! in the pit of your stomach. Shane grimaced.

I tried to broach it with Sam, but the look on his face even at the merest suggestion, was enough to tell me not to proceed. He looked like some one had just taken a crap on his hand, at the suggestion that Tony Abbott might be sexy.

I Think I Know What I Want, No Big Ears!

Sam is funny. "I can't even look at Mr Big Ears, he hurts my eyes. So, I could never vote for him."

"Don't you want to see him in his speedos, just one more time?" I flickered my tongue like a snake.

(I have a dirty little secret about Tony Abbott, but Shane has made me swear never to speak it out loud again)

"How can you be worried about one more time in those things? If he wins, I have to deal with his ears for 4 years. I will go crazy 😧"

So, I emailed him a picture of Big ears in his speedos

"Euw, that pic so distracting. That needs to come with a health warning! I have to think of Daniel Craig, James bond, in his, sexy! when I look at big ear's photo."

So, I emailed him a photo of Daniel Craig grabbing his crotch.

"Love it!! Sexy! You see, good ears and a body to die for 😀"

He likes to play games. He likes to play dress ups the best. Anything in the dress up box is okay with him.

After he kisses him, they went all the way without uttering a word. They did everything. They sealed the deal, so to speak

Will You Turn Into a Little Shit Every Time I Upset You?

Oh, you know, they are great while they are great, still fresh enough to do as they are told, but when they turn, grrrr!

Sam and I had a fight, over a stupid thing really. I said no to meeting him after work, after his haircut, when he has waited for me on various occasions, for varying length of time. I said I'd meet him at my place, not that I wouldn't meet him at all. It's an easy walk, it's just that we normally do it together.
I apologise not ten minutes later when he voiced his displeasure. Said I was sorry and that I would meet him. But no, that wasn't good enough, the injury was committed, it would take a long time to forget. It gives him a greater insight into the sort of man that I really am. No, too late.

He just hung onto it for twenty four hours, until I asked him if he was going to turn into a little shit every time I upset him, because I probably would lots of times if he and I are heading any where. That seemed to bump him out of his anger.

Bristol 401/403

Nice Counter Move, He’s Given This Some Thought

Sam and I have lunch at the Korean restaurant in Lonsdale Street. It's a favourite. It has tacky pop star, beauty model, game show type videos playing continuously on the large screen on the wall and Laminex tables, but the food is great.

“Spicy Pork, please,” I ask.

Sam looks at me as if to say what else would you have? I always have spicy pork. I can be a little bit, shall we say, "settled" in my culinary choices, some may say unadventurous, but, you know, when it ain't broke...

He rolls his eyes after he’d asks me to get cutlery, as he gets the water, when the only thing I came back with is chop sticks. Well, it’s an Asian restaurant, I think. You know, when in Rome... Seoul. Apparently, even they use spoons and serviettes. (icon with a wink) He has the cutest way of rolling his eyes, some may say that I is deliberately remiss in my accoutrement collection just to see that. (grin) Oh, I don’t know, there is something gratifying about being fussed over, even if it is as a result of an, apparently, mindless omission.

While we were eating, Mr Temperance League himself makes the startling admission of, actually, feeling the effect of the joint I personally fed him at dinner Sunday night at D’s. He tells me deadpan with a slight, coy smile just curling into the corner of his mouth. The usual story of not feeling anything followed with finger waggling, apparently, gave way to wanting to suggest that we headed upstairs for a moment, or two.

“Really?” I say. (Big smile) “So it does get in, huh?”

He smiles coyly, again, as though he’s said too much, let the genie out of the bottle that he knows he won’t have a hope of returning to its dark chamber. He knows that much with this line of conversation.

“So, you’ve changed your tune,” I add confidently, as we leave the restaurant. “So, I’m not going to get dumped any time soon for the gunger I might consume.”

"So you think that means it's okay?"

"Sure do, sunshine." I pull my cheekiest look. "Pretty damn confident."

He smiles.

“Welcome to the dark side, babe.”

He looks mock exasperated, but I catch the twinkle in his eye.

“And to think I felt guilty about influencing you to smoke it.”

“You know the problem I have with it is the health issue... you know, the smoking thing.”

“Oh, you’re lungs will still be shell pink...”

"But where will it lead to..."

"Spoken like the words were lifted directly from the Liberal Party fear pamphlet."

“And the cost... all that money.”

I raise my hands in the air. “Just occasionally.”

“It’s been every week for you.”

“Better than every day.”

He rolls his eyes again, but is still smiling. I get a little twinge at the utter cuteness of the facial movement and I can tell by the look on his face looking at me that he knows he has now lost on this issue. I put my arm around him in a self congratulatory show of affection to him, the looser. He smiles at me lovingly in recognition of his defeat.

We turn into Queen Street and are heading towards Bourke. I look at the time.

“Come on.” I take his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“You have to ask?”

“Oh,” he says.

We push through the revolving door. The foyer is busy with people, I do hope none are going to get in the way.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, gazing at its unblemished green paintwork.

“It’s old.”

“No, it’s beautiful.”

Smile. “It’s old.”

“Just say it’s beautiful and we can leave.”

Eye twinkle. “It’s old.”

“You had better come around to the back and look then.”

He smiles and looks at me with his handsome face. “To see her fine lines.“

“The best vantage point to view her from... just like you.”

He smiles his warm smile, kind of looks at me through the tops of his eyes.

“You have to admit she’s beautiful.”

He tilts his head. “It’s old.”

“You’d better come around to the front then.”

“To pay our respect.”

I take him by the arm.

“To pay our respect, now you understand?” 

He smiles again.

I gesture with my hand, like a game show hostess, towards the front of the car, as we stand in front of it. I try to imagine that stylish front whirring along a sunny country road sparkling in the 1950’s sunlight, the sweet hum of the 6 cyl engine, the fine burble of the exhaust note as the trees waves at its passing, as the fallen leaves scatter across the bitumen behind it.

He smiles, as he stares straight ahead.

“Say she’s beautiful.”

“She’s old.”

I take him by the arm and guide him back towards Bourke Street.

“You have to admit it is beautiful. How can you not?”

“It’s...” the revolving door seals him into his compartment and spins him towards the street and I don’t hear the end of his sentence.

He is waiting on the foot path for me, I turn towards the office.

“Now, you have to come with me,” he says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

We walk to the edge of the RACV building and turn down the lane way next door. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We walk down the gentle incline to Little Collins Street, and turn right.

“Just along here,” he says.

“Where?”

“Along here.”

We come to a stop in front of the French bakery, with exquisite delights in the window. Beautiful cakes. Gorgeous petite fours. Dazzling pastries.

“Now, look at these,” he says. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

I’m impressed. Nice counter move, he’s given this some thought. I look at him, he smiles. I think I like him even a little bit more.

Miracle, smiracle!

"It was a miracle and we have to give thanks to God, that only one person died," said San Andres governor Pedro Gallardo.

It always bemuses me, that we thank god for not killing more people.

"Yeah, well, thanks god, why did you crash that plane we needed? And why did you kill Amar Fernandez de Barreto, he was a good man and his family will miss him. You're a cunt, god, you know that."

I'm Sorry Mate, But I Think The Planet is Doomed

I walked out of the Sunny Bakery with my 2 pork rolls and my apple cake. There was the cute boy who I saw on the way in, talking to another guy. I smiled. He smiled. I smiled again. He had on a Greenpeace windcheater and held a clip board in his hand.

He smiled again. "Have you heard of Greenpeace?" he asked.

"I'm sorry mate, but I think the planet is doomed."

"It's never too late to do something," he said.

I turned as I passed him and spoke as I walked backwards.

"I think it is."

"Nooooo," he said.

I turned away from his (fading) smiling, questioning face and headed to my car.

He actually sounded devastated by my answer. Oh, good on him for being passionate. Applause. I guess, I should have stopped and had the discussion with him.

What exactly are we saving?

At any given moment, half the world doesn't have fresh water or food while the other half are eating themselves to death. Half the world hates the other half. A very small number of the world’s population controls a large portion of the world's assets and they will do anything to keep it that way, include watch the starving die. Even the "haves" lie and cheat each other for gain.

A group of bankers made money at the expense of everyone else on this planet in the subprime mortgage debacle and they felt so terrible about what they'd done, they did it again with the Greek financing disaster.

We have polluted our air, our soil and our earth. We've well and truly crapped in our own nests, even those "less enlightened beings" have enough sense not to do that. And in the shit fight that ensues in the demise of the human race, we'll be lying and cheating even harder to get more of what little is left ahead of the next person. The solve the world's imminent environmental problems we have to come between man and money, which has never been successful in any previous age.

You know, we haven't done such a great job.

Maybe it's time to give the cock roaches a go.

The sun was finally shining. We should enjoy it while it lasts, I thought.

I pointed my keys at my car and the door locks went clunk. I flipped the door handle and climbed inside. The engine gurgled with a throaty exhaust note. I clicked on the blinker and flicked the steering wheel and the car shot out into the traffic and I accelerated up Smith Street towards home.

 

Zsa Zsa

Everybody loves his handsome face

Everyone loves his beautiful smile