Obese Olwyn

Obese Olwyn (Or as Kirin calls her Fat Guts, and I call her Fat Guts Carol Brady) suddenly shrieked today in the office, "Basement closed for urgent maintenance! OMG!" 

I jumped. We all jumped. Everybody looked around.

I wondered if she was talking about herself? I mean, looking at her, it is not hard to believe. Most days she seems to wear a black bedspread fashioned into a pantsuit/skirt dress/poncho/kimono/circus tent. That is the best way, only way, I can describe her fashion sense.

Then she rushed out of the office. Which is unusual, as the fat girls don't usually shriek and rush out of the office until much later in the year.

My mind boggled. Did the building shake? Did it? Or was that just me, my inner brain adding the sensor-round for the visual I was getting. You know, kind of a reverse motion sickness.

She came back some time later with a huge slab of chocolate cake, which she devoured like a fucking champion. It clearly wasn't her first day at the cake trolley. I walked over surreptitiously to be sure she was munching down a slab of chocolate cake that was big enough to feed a 10 year old's birthday party, when she looked up and I shivered in shock thinking she must have fallen after she rushed out of the building and knocked out several of her teeth, but it was only chocolate cake plastered across her pearly whites.

I wondered if she was stress eating, you know, with the immanent collapse of “her basement,” parenthesis in the air. Looking at her, I was surprised it had stood up this long.

It has been my experience that all Olwyns are fat? It is a fat name.

It turned out The Basement was a cafe and that she was less focused on her pelvic floor than she was on her favourite food. Like we were all shocked. Nobody saw that coming. [big eyes]

They scream "big bones" or "dodgy thyroid" the big girls do, but generally that is not, actually, the problem. Generally, it has a lot less to do with genes and a lot more to do with slabs of chocolate cake, as was proved today, no matter what they say.

I am still laughing at her reaction, shrieking and running out of the office with her purse in her doughy hand. I think everybody jumped.

It was mind boggling, as Sam loves to say. It is his favourite expression. 

If you could harness the power of something coming between a fat girl and her chocolate cake, all the world's energy problems would be solved, I am sure.

Word Doodle

I wrote this as I waited for all of my end of month reports to calculate, print, download, save to a drive. It is basically a word doodle, what I do instead of picking up a pen and drawing lines and squares on a piece of paper, mindlessly.


An Iced Vovo is a fairy princess' panty pad. The fairy prince dusts off his marzipan jacket with icing sugar hands, before he salutes and smiles. White teeth squeak under candy lips.

My infected sores ooze marshmallow. I pick at the Florentine scabs with candy cane fingers. Cherries stick under my nails.

Malcolm fell down and spaghetti sauce leaked from his knees where he landed. Squish, squish. Spot the honey dog licks his filo pasty skin.

The crybabies eyes spurt lemonade, until they get so upset they vomit lime green jelly with caramel buttons. There is always caramel buttons.

When I lick the black guy he tastes of chocolate, his blushes taste of raspberry. His desire smells like musk heated over a rose scented candle.

Edna Smith smells of custard, her failing brain cells feel like tapioca between my fingertips. She clutches her string of pearls, which flake like white chocolate chalk.

We all live happily together in Rainbow Town, where the sky is blue velvet and the grass green jellies, where box cars drive on liquorice roads and gingerbread trams run on gossamer tracks. The evening sky is a thousand year egg dome, the stars, cat's eyes, blinking in the night.

Do You Think My Phone is Gay?

I was in the lift with my cute work colleague, the one with the hot arse, who is also a lovely guy too, that is the main thing, isn't it? I guess. Of course. I was fiddling about with my phone, hooking up my head phones and selecting music for the walk home when I accidentally took this photo. Thank the universe my phone was on mute. Not bad, huh? I hadn't looked at him from that angle before. Oh, who am I kidding, of course I have.

Sam's Groovy Back

Sam had a cupping last Friday. Now his back looks like a 1960s geometrical curtain. He has big, red circles down his back on either side of his spine.

I walked into town after work and had a haircut, while Sam was having his back therapy, with the shit hairdresser who messed up my hair last time. Sam told me to go with the salon owner, who always dresses like a hooker, and not an expensive one. The owner wasn't there when I walked in and, I think, I got the Scandinavian backpacker. I wasn't sure if she could speak English, fluent English, at the beginning, during, or even after the haircut, but she did a good job. Of course, she knew a few key hair phrases, but beyond that I wasn't really sure. She was cute and blond and she had on a tiny, short blue dress, which I am sure all the straight boys wanted to... well, we all know what straight boys want to do to pretty young girls.

Afterwards, I bought shoes. A massage session lasts longer than a cheap haircut and I was finished first, so I had time to fill. I tried to buy a pair of blue work pants, but they didn't have them in my size. They had them in every size but mine and I tried on bigger and smaller and tried to make them fit, but I couldn't. Disappointed, my eyes strayed towards the shoes and before I knew what I was doing I was sitting in the shoe department with boxes of shoes surrounding me.

Then we ate Indian in Melbourne Central at the two restaurants that look alike and certainly look as thought they are owned by the same owners. However that isn't true. One was very popular and one wasn't. The popular restaurant staff spent most of their time explaining to the customers of the popular restaurant why they couldn't sit on the empty tables of the unpopular restaurant even though there seemed to be no discernible difference between the tables. It was like ground hog day meets Bollywood, well, more mall than music, less colour, more beige.

I was exhausted just watching it. I nearly told a couple, "Nah, they are the poor cousins tables," as the wandered up, looked confused, looked around and proceeded to take a seat, before the popular wait staff sprang into action. Several times. It just seemed polite.

Of course, it was the perfect metaphor for what ails the world today. If only we could share, help each other out, give each other a hand, the world would be a happier place.

Plants Are Real Like Dirt And Water And Wind And Bees

It was hot today, bloody hot. The sun beat down, the sky was blue. The garden looked tired. Since I have this new found ownership - is that the right word? - stewardship over the garden, which means I water it now a days, I notice what is going on with it, take more interest, give it more than an occasional glance. I watered it in the morning and I watered it in the evening. 

It was hot
The garden sighed, in thank you. 

I don't know why I haven't enjoyed watering the garden before? It is kind of therapeutic, relaxing. Is cathartic the right expression? No, but the power feels the same. I guess, if I found enlightenment amongst the petals, it would be. You know, you kind of do. It is meditative. People have always said that, and you know it is true. Who'd have thought it. People don't always lie? Amazing. Plants are the truth.

There is an enchanted world under every leaf, if you look closer enough, as the water drips.

I wanted to soak the soil on the hot day and then walk barefoot in it, squelching it between my toes, like mud cakes when I was young.

But, you know, just holding the hose and watching the water fall from the end of it, vaguing out, mouth open, staring into space, is the joy.

watching it sprinkle
watching it fall
feeling the spray
getting the wind blowing it back
the crystals falling
the ground absorbing
everything washed new

The Exhibition Buildings

This was possibly my favourite installation. It was cool we did it at the end, on our way home. It perked us up and made us say, "Wow," out loud. 

I didn't post the picture of the Exhibition Buildings burning, but that was amazing too.

There is Always a Pretty One

Yeah, um, I had my camera ready, he was smiling and posing, what can I say? What is a boy (with a camera) to do? 

Cute smile. And a nice arse, if the truth be told.

The State Library

This was great. Does that look like cane furniture? Or is it just me?

The State Library

Apparently, we should have gone inside, as there was a fabulous light show inside. But, there was a queue and I have a natural aversion to queues.

I love the small installations too... or more

I loved all the small installations hidden up laneways that you had to hunt out. They were great. Like the white owl flying, or the series of small pictures in a row on a laneway wall. Or this one which changed and evolved in front of your eyes.

I Didn't Know Donald Duck Was in Town?

Who else thinks Macy Gray sounds like Donald Duck when she sings?

But, back to the point, this installation was sweet.

We could lay down in a laneway and look at the lights above us, which was nice considering we walked for 5 hours. I didn't want to give my cushion and sheep skin up once it was over, let me tell you

St Paul's

The place never looked so good. But, it smell exactly the same, kind of damp stone work and ageing delusion.

Flinder's Street

I love these buildings in Flinders Street, they are gorgeous facades.

Gold Merry Go Round

This was at National Gallery of Victoria. Sam and I got lost in there for some time, looking at the beautiful things. But we could see most of that any weekend, it was the light show that we should have been looking at.

I loved the Dave Shrigley exhibit

This creepy little guy was making art as everybody watched.

The mote @ NGV

These guys danced to music hovering above the water and were fascinating to watch.

Bourke Street Mall

We waited and waited but none of these bitches were giving up their couches. Of course they did, but we didn't wait long enough. The couches felt spongy and soft.

We wanted to see a giant octopus slither out ripping the roof off Hamer Hall, but alas, it didn't.

The Lovely Yarra

Bring on dusk and let the light show begin. The lovely Yarra now built up on each bank.