I wish I could, it’s my bloody nephew’s birthday. Poor sod never gets a card off me.
I’d like to start this months news with a big thank you for all the care and concern that was shown to me, by phone and e-mail, after my revelations last month that I have been suffering painful and bloody Emma Freud’s.
I’d like to but I cannot as no bugger showed the slightest interest or or bothered even asking how my arse was doing now.
The piss taking e-mails were rather funny though.
Sod the lot of you!
Ok, so here’s the story behind Bethy’s story. Bethy was set an assignment for English. This followed the class reading a book on kid’s experiences in the second world war. One part of this assignment was to write a short tale about war and kids. The teacher specified it should be “at least one side of A4”, fair enough. So Beth started writing it.
As I was on my day off one day, and she was at at the computer, I decided to go offer my technical advice, (fully expecting to be told to piss off and keep my nose out.) So I asked; “How’s it going kid?” and the reply was; “It’s got a bit out of hand actually”. (Yes she does speak like that!)
I asked in what way.
“Well I’ve been coming home and adding a bit to it each day, and I got a bit wrapped up and excited about what to write next, so it’s a bit long”
“How long?”
“Errrmm nineteen pages. so far, but i haven’t finished it yet.”
Sheesh…
Be warned, I’ll be asking questions about it later.
Warning!! This story contains snogging and other girly things.
The other day I got a cold, a miserable snotty barking and howling cold. Good! I’ll have a few days off then. So I rang my GP surgery (this was on a Tuesday) and they repleid; “Sorry, we’ve no appointments free until Monday.” Bugger, I have to have a sick note if I’m off for more than two days, and I fancied three. So I rang another surgery we use; “Sorry, we’ve no appointments free until Monday.” Ok, by now I was determined to have a day off; so I tried another two surgeries, ones I’ve not used before; “Sorry, we’ve no appointments free until Monday.”
Has every bugger in Canberra got a cold? I mean, sodding hell.
Lee-Anne of course came up with a solution; “Go to Ginniderra medical centre, it’s a walk in, first come first served.” Neat. So I went there, and the receptionist took my name and details and said; “There’s about an hours wait, come back at 12.00. “ So I did, I came back at 12.00 and waited for another hour. I don’t think that was part of the agreement, but still, at least I had a book with me.
I watched the endless queues of junkies, all in their own version of reality, waiting to collect (I presume) methadone scripts. One of them started getting a bit narky outside. I was hoping he was going to kick off, as I was feeling like shit, and fancied taking it out on some one. But eventually my name was called and a very nice (Welsh!) Dr saw me for two minutes and signed me off, and earned himself $35 dollars for the effort. Jesus, why didn’t I study harder at school. Or study at all even.
Me and Lee-Anne turned up at our gym for a pump class the other day, to find the whole place had been revamped. My good they must have thrashed out a few bob! The weights room looks like a cross between a high class S&M dungeon and a Star Trek set. They’ve filled it with “Raptor Range gym machines” Boy am I a happy chap.
But the best thing of all is they’ve got one of these;
It’s a chinning machine. Basically you use the weight stack, not to lift, but to lift you. I’ve always wanted to be able to do chins, but have always been too feeble. But now thanks to this machine I can at least pretend to do them. It’s so much fun I’m getting to be a funny shape. (Yes, I know I’ve always been a funny shape, but this one is more funny.)
While I’m on the subject of the gym; I must remember when I’m singing aloud, loudly, during “pump” classes, in order to try to share the pain, the lyrics of the song are actually; “Save the horse, ride a cowboy..” and not “Save the whores, ride a cowboy,” as people are getting concerned and moving away from me. Though that happens no matter what I sing.
The Canberra Capitals were playing at home the other day, so we rang up Bethy, who was at her father’s for the weekend, to let her know it was on, and to arrange to meet them there. Me and Lee-Anne went early, and paid a fortune to get in, the AIS is a bloody expensive place. And then we watched 10 leggy birds getting sweaty on court.
🙂
My favourite player has to be Natalie Hurst, (Though I must admit that Chantella Perera is the tastiest player!) who is “tiny” at 162 cm, (5’4″) but tears through the opposition like a knife. The tallest player in the side is Tracey Beatty at 202 cm (6’7′)
It was a great match though, the capitals did dominate, beating Dandenong 72-53
Bethy and Glenn never showed up, they forgot. Sheesh…
One of my clients, a young man with bi-polar disorder, recently got it into his head that the treatment he had received on his last stay in the local loony bin was sub par. Ok, so he decided to protest this lack of understanding of his needs by driving to the ward. And then into the ward. Through the two sets of sliding glass doors. Fortunately no one was hurt.
The irony is that his act of protest earned him another long stay on the very same ward. But now a ward with boarded up doors.
You may remember me telling you about the kid generosity of my American chum, Andrew, who sent me five bottles of stupidly hot sauce? After reading my thanks on this site, Andrew dropped me a line to warm me that the BIG bottle he has sent is in fact
A. LIMITED EDITION “GHOST PEPPER” JOLOKIA PRIVATE RESERVE
<<OUT OF STOCK >> Our 2008 limited edition “ghost pepper” jolokia private reserve….is now sold out. Arrival of the 2009 Special Edition “Return of the Ghost Pepper” Sauce is due to arrive very soon! Call Dave’s Gourmet to pre-order this delightfully new Super-Hot hot sauce. (800) 758-0372 or (415) 401-9100 Each year we formulate a special sauce with three times the heat of Insanity Sauce. It’s hand signed by Dave, numbered, vintage dated and laid to rest in a wooden coffin wrapped in caution tape. 5 oz. Heat Insane +++
Thank god he warned me. (The big yellow “CAUTION!” label obscured the contents)
The danger of not treating this stuff with respect, was brought home to me the other day. I was having a bun at work, (cheese, banana and coleslaw.) I was spicing it up, when I accidentally overdid the “Temporary Insanity” sauce, (the mildest of the bunch sent.)
“Ah, no worries, I think I’m acclimatised to this stuff now.”
Twat.
I spent the next thirty minutes sitting stock still, as any movement brought on the feeling of being set on fire from the inside out. I lost a few kilos in sweat following that.
Oh this was posted at a local website the other day, listen with the volume up, it’s a hoot!!
One morning I’m driving Bethy to school. We haven’t gone 20 yards down the road, when a bloody dog chases a cat out from a garden, and the cat goes straight under my rear wheels. Poor bugger bounced about for a minute then died.
Dog owner could only offer “That’s why I don’t let him out, he chases things…” I didn’t reply.
Poor bloody Bethy was devastated. To be fair to the kid, she didn’t take up the offer of a day off school. I would have been happy to take her home at that point.
We’ve just started planning our New Zealand trip. In a guide to hiking in the area, we found this mountain is near our first overnight stop in our hired campervan. So, one day after arriving in New Zealand, and two days after my 50 th. birthday, we’re knocking off this little beauty.
Avalanche Peak is located next to Arthur’s Pass township in the Southern Alps. The DOC website describes the walk to the top as an “an extremely steep and rocky journey to the top of an 1833-metre peak”. However, if you prepare well and take notice of the weather, it should be an enjoyable experience. At the top you are rewarded with views of Mt Rolleston and other surrounding mountains of the Southern Alps.
Ps, Firefox spell checker flags “Zealand”, wtf?
I took Bethy to her dentist, to get her braces adjusted, and new pretty pink bits put on them. All the assistants, all young, tasty, and with facefull’s of expensive dental work were dressed as fairies for the day. The costumes sure took my mind off the pain (of paying.)
Here’s a conversation I have far too often;
The scene, The Pinnacle Nature reserve…
In the distance I see a short dumpy woman with a overly excited Labrador on a lead. My heart sinks when I see she is wearing colorful clothes and a floppy hart (circa 1965). So what I what I always do, and call my dogs to heel, move 15 -20 foot off the path, and await her passing. This takes a hell of a long time, as she’s being pulled in all directions by her dog.
She approaches and stops, and says something. Being slightly mutt ‘n Jeff, I tell my dogs to stay and move closer to her. Her dog explodes into barking at me.
The conversation runs thus:
SFHB (Stupid fucking hippy bint): “You should have your dogs on a lead!”
Me: “Why?”
SFHB; “They aren’t under control!”
Me; “My dogs aren’t under control?”
SFHB; “They aren’t on a lead.”
Me; “Yes.”
SFHB; “So they aren’t under control.”
Me; “I see, my dogs, sitting quietly under that tree where I told them to sit are “not under control”, whereas your dog who has just nearly pulled you off your feet, and is barking enough to wake the dead, is. Have I got that right?”
SFHB; “One of your dogs has got up.”
Me; (Clears throat loudly enough for dogs to hear; ) “It’s sat down again now hasn’t it?”
SFHB ; “Yes. But that’s not the point, they aren’t on leads they could chase kangaroos.”
Me; “Can you see down the path where I have just come from? Do you see that mob of a hundred or so roos? I just walked through the middle of that with my dogs at heel. If my dogs were chasers, the dogs and the roos would be in the next state by now.”
SFHB; “Well you might startle them.”
Me; “Yes.”
SFHB; “So you should have your dogs on a lead so you are in control of them.”
Me; “I am in control of them. The fact that you have little or no control over your dog does not mean that mine are not under control.”
(At this point she has been dragged to within a few feet of my dogs, Millie has a habit of trying to kill Labradors, so I tell the three of them to “go ahead”. They walk off up the path.)
Me: “That’s what’s known as “having a dog under control” in the real world.”
SFHB: “Well I can’t have my dog off the lead!”
Me: “And that is my problem, how exactly?”
SFHB: “You probably used cruelty to train your dogs!”
Me: “Oh yes, heaps of it. They soon learn though. Unfortunately.”
SFHB: “Well there you go, ha!”
Me: “So my dogs got a brief period of cruelty, learned how to behave, and are good well controlled dogs. Whereas your dog has a life of misery always being on a lead, and walking only as far as it can tow your fat arse, and is a complete pain in to all and sundry. I bet all your neighbours complain about it, don’t they?”
SFHB: “I don’t like your attitude.”
Me: “I don’t like your hat.”
SFHB: “I’m not standing here to listen to this.”
Me: “You started it.”
And so she storms off down the path. As she approaches the roos, her dog goes ballistic barking like a banshee and pulling her all over the park. The roos scatter, several of them heading towards the main road.
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