It's matter over mind for now

It could be the fact that I'm working odd hours. 2pm - 10pm mostly, and then blogging/net surfing til 12. And doing the graveyard shift sitting behind a keyboard with mouse in hand means the only person I actually have meaningful conversation with is the checkout chick at Safeway when I stop in for a loaf of bread on the way home.

I don't know what unruly games the stars are playing of late, but I've been feeling a little out of sorts. And having the most bizarre thoughts.

Just like a bundle of protons and neutrons awash in a sea of electrons.

You know?

And I've been meaning to do something goodly for a while, so I headed off down to the blood bank just near where I work.

"Hi, I'm a vampire and I'd like to make a withdrawal."

"I'm sorry but we only collect blood here. Just fill out these forms."

So I filled them out and sat in the waiting room.

And I was hoping that they would ask me for my name. ("Ivana", I vanna suck your blood.) And they did, but I wisely thought to keep that one for the blog. No point giving away all your best material. And it was a tough crowd.

In the screening process they ask you if you have lived in England from anytime between 1980 and 1996. That made me laugh, because if I had, they wouldn't have accepted my blood. They say it's to do with Mad cow disease, but I think there's more to it than that.

I went into the first waiting room where they had to check if my haemoglobin was ok.
And they pricked my third finger and squeezed a little blob out. Stuck it in a machine, and waited for the results.

My count was a little low, so they tried the other hand. Apparently your counts can vary a little in different parts of your anatomy.

So after I passed that test (It was a little close) I graduated to the big chair where they milk you of your nectar.

Well my nurse was named Juliette. And she was gorgeous. She was probably late thirties or early forties, but the way she smiled and talked about things and busied herself with her various equipment. Mmmmmm. I was going to ask if she had a Romeo, but I guess that's just too obvious right?

Have I mentioned before that I want to marry a nurse when I grow up? Or a waitress or an air hostess? I love the way they fluff your pillows and make sure you are comfy and fuss over you. Plus the outfits are great.

So I lay in the chair and pumped out a pint through a needle the size of a biro.

"If anyone asks, it took you 11 minutes to fill the bag"

"Is that good?"

And she looked genuinely impressed.

I think I could do better than that though. If I knew it was a race, I would have squeezed a little harder.

I reckon I can clear 10 minutes next time.

And it was over just like that. So I went and had a glass of orange juice, a couple of party pies for my efforts. I also noticed that they had Bonox. Apparently it's a beef flavoured drink. I politely declined, but the lady told me she'd give me one next time I came in.

Yummy.

So I feel a little better having done something nice, not to mention a little light-headed. I saved four lives apparently. I wonder who the lucky recipients of my DNA will be?

The difference between boys and girls

Look at my eyes
my hair
My perfect gap-toothed
Smile

My boyfriend loves
Me
But he's in Sydney

And the 22 year old
Boy from work
That I shagged in a moment
Of weakness
Keeps ringing me

He's sweet and I can
See us being together
But he's just
Too
Keen...

You know?...

And I don't want
To commit
To
Anything

Cause I'm afraid
Of
Getting hurt
Again

What do you think?



Me,

Well...

I never gave a shit
about money,
career;
and power
means nothing to me

But a cute ass says plenty

And...

Confidence is just
a mask
Hiding the ugliness of
whatever
insecurities
Might stop you
getting
Laid

Injustice

I was laying on my back much in the same way as I was last night. But it was so very different.

The girl was on top with her legs spread apart, and her heels were digging painfully into my thighs. As she rode up and down in reckless abandon, I was left to catch her weight in the palms of my hands and hold on, as with each thrust another wave of sludge coated my balls.

Her rubber-like nipples brushed moistly over my chest and she purred softly in my ear.

"Fuck me"

And I did, although it was more the other way around.

When she would come, it was so beautiful, because I would always lose it too. And we would hold each other as we were both lost in our own pleasure. Yet still as close as two people could be.

As I lay in the motel room in Swan Hill that night, I thought about the injustice of it all.

Last night, it felt like there was a squirrel doing backflips in my pants. With nary enough space to swing a cat.

No rest for the wicked.

The size of a counter meal is inversely proportional to the distance from the nearest capital city.

Last week was spent in various motel rooms, and eating at pubs and bakeries. The Kerang Hotel has great counter meals. The chicken with cream and mustard was a special.

I was greatly relieved to get home on Friday night to find that everything had more or less returned to normal at home.

But the homesickness is starting to creep in. Perhaps it's when I stop and think. And when the weather is poor.

So Saturday night, I went to the local for Atlantic salmon cutlets, and ended up dancing a Salsa at Copacabana with a Columbian girl that spoke little English.

Yep. I didn't see it coming either.

I have also finally got around to looking for a new gym.

And tomorrow, I'm back out on the road again for the rest of the week.

Goody.

Always go out on a high

Well, we might just put that weekend behind us eh?

After a hectic Saturday alternately devising plans to encourage former flatmate to evacuate the premises with a minimum of damage and theft of property, I didn't particularly feel like going out. I rang the bedding girl to ensure that we were still up for things, but she was serving a customer or something. I was told she would call back, but I didn't know if she had my number.

I gave it some time and called back, but the shop was closed I guess.

So flatmate arrives home, and after loading numerous boxes into the back of her boyfriends Subaru, putting a dent in the plaster in our stairway, and somehow dismantling the clothesline, I feel even less like going anywhere.

I was glad that I did however, so I walked into the city and after chowing at a Chinese restaurant, I didn't get there til 11.

I was a little afraid to go in because I could hear music playing, but everyone was sitting down to watch like a concert.

I took a program and went outside, there was a girl with long brown hair sitting on the kerb writing in a notebook. She looked up at me with big brown eyes, and I asked her

"Is it safe to go in?"

She looked a little puzzled and replied.

"Yes, you just walk in and pay on the left, there is a girl that will take your money."

"Oh, okay, I was just a bit worried that the stage would be right there, and everyone would see me and I would be interrupting."

"Oh. So you're not an exhibitionist."

She was cute.

"Well,... I wouldn't say that,... It's just that I haven't been here before and I don't want to start throwing my weight around... Alright well thanks."

And I went inside.

Cat Empire weren't playing, but some other jazz ensemble. It was a great little club. The sort of smoky dimly lit place that would be great to see John Lee-Hooker or BB King or any of those. But not smoky.

I cast my eyes around and tried to decipher some familiar faces amongst the packed room. Nothing.

So I went up and sat at the bar and had a couple of drinks. And the brown-haired brown-eyed girl walked by and smiled and put her hand on my back.

And I smiled at her, but somewhat nervously. I still couldn't see the girl from the store.

What do I do now?

After some of the people left during the interval, I had a look around and it was quite obvious that she wasn't there.

I sat back down. A hand was on my leg just above my knee.

"So it wasn't that scarey then?"

"No, it was fine. This is a great little spot you have here."

The brown-eyed girl was apparently the manager of the place. She served behind the bar, but also seemed to know the musicians also, and clapped loudly between songs.

She went off to pick up glasses and busy herself with other duties that you would pertain as a manageress of a nightclub.

This was an unexpected turn, and I was really tired, and somewhat drunk, and just couldn't be bothered trying to compute things. So I fell off my stool and made for the exit. I waved bye and walked home.

Yeah, I know.

In bed by 1.30.

I'll definitely go back there though, it was pretty cool.

No blogging this week, out of town.

On a brighter note, Meatbeaters will be playing in Melbourne in November.

Henry, get out of the helicopter

Well it's 9.30 on a Friday night and I'm still at work.

Noice.

I have to get things prepared for my field trip next week.

I'll be between Bendigo and Swan Hill in rural Victoria, so give me a wave if you see me about the place. I'll be sampling the bakeries and pubs in the area, as you understand my search for the perfect custard tart continues.

Actually the bakery on the main street of Seymour was quite good last time, I recommend that you all go there. They do some wonderful gourmet pies too.

Well last weekend as I was extremely hungover from a massive night of drinking these delightful beverages, I went in to pick up my new red lamp which had just arrived in my favourite bedroom retailer.

If I haven't already told you, I am doing my bedroom up. It's not very big, but it's mine, and it is my mission to make it the most luxurious and decadent of all bedrooms.

I am going to fill it with cushions and lamps and possibly purple velvet cloth draped over the walls. A veritable fire hazard? I understand, but we all have to make sacrifices in the name of luxury.

So as I was making my purchase, I was discussing my plans with the sparkly eyed rather cute salesgirl, and she was getting all excited finding me cushions to buy. As she climbed to the top of a fixture to get one, I noticed in passing that she had an equally cute arse.

And we were chatting away, and she gave me a big class of water to calm my throbbing... head, and I got to meet her boss, and everything.

And she gave me some good prices, and then in true "friendly Melbourne person that is very friendly" style invited me out to some little club in the back roads of Melbourne. All very casual and matter-of-fact. So I may be going to see Cat Empire tomorrow night. Even though I think I might not like it. I may quite possibly loathe it (the band that is). But hopefully the company will make up for it.

I just don't know that going to see a crap band is a good place for a 'first-date' if indeed that is what it is. Going to the movies is also a bad first-date option. You just kind of sit there, and don't interact. Unless you're into just making out.

I don't know. Any ideas?

And another thing is that I spent so much money on cushions that I don't really have any left for going out. Haha.

Aaah... the vicissitudes of life.

I'm going home now. I guess that means I'll be in on Sunday finishing what I was meant to do today.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Last night....

I dreamed of a girl.

She was perfect.

Coolness, sirs!

Meet my new friends!



L-R: Jerry Steiner, Parker Lewis, Mike Randall

Well... If you haven't seen Parker Lewis Can't Lose, you don't know what you are missing out on.

It isn't released officially on dvd, but somehow, Carly managed to find me the entire first season on a homemade dvd!

Kudos to Carly!

Have I mentioned how much she rules lately....?

Do I need this?

I have 2 housemates. I haven't spoken much about them because I hardly see them.

It's because I rock'n'roll all night, and party every day.

Anyway, my two housemates don't get along. Lets call them C and R. And I will be A.

Anyway, R will be moving out at the end of the week, and I was meant to give R her bond. However, I had to give the bond to C first because she handles the rent side of things.

Now things get a little tricky because R had to pay for her new bond at her new place, but because C doesn't trust her, she wouldn't give R her bond until after she moves out.

Fair enough too, because that's the whole point of having a bond. To make sure that people don't shoot through and leave you in the lurch. And the guy that lived with them before me did exactly the same thing. So it's fair that some people are a bit cautious about that sort of thing.

So I'm upstairs brushing my teeth on a Saturday morning, and I say good morning to C as she heads downstairs. I can smell gunpowder in the air.

"Bond".

Says R's boyfriend indignantly at the bottom of the stairs. His arms folded and tapping his fingers on his arm.

"I'll give R her bond when she pays the bills and moves out." says C.

And there is the spark.

The next thing I know, words are flying around the house... C is yelling at R calling her a princess. R's boyfriend is standing over C trying to intimidate her into giving R the money, calling her a thief, R is quite silent throughout the whole ordeal, but offering 'bitch' as a consolation.

It's not really what you want in your house.

So I go downstairs, and R's boyfriend is offering to steal C's fridge and washing machine in revenge for not giving him the bond.

Nice.

Then they try to get me involved.

"It's A's money anyway, and he said that we could have it."

But I have none of it. It's funny how some peoples true colours are revealed when money is involved.

Eventually a compromise is reached. C will give R half of the bond. The rest will be given back when the bills are paid.

So everyone is happy.

Sort of.

Our new housemate is B. She will move in in a couple of weeks provided everything works out with this old one. Then it will be A, B and C.

Easy.

The Mystery of the orange vegetable

I had a rather funny time at the Safeway* today.

I was standing in the express checkout waiting to purchase my bread rolls and can of soup when I noticed the lady in front of me sheepishly put something orange on the conveyor belt thing where you put your food.

It was a carrot. But not just any old carrot.

It was the perfect carrot.

Not quite as long as a ruler but definitely longer than a cd. And it was perfectly straight. And instead of tapering at the tip, as would a normal carrot, it had a bulbous end. Such a carrot would have to be a one-in-a-million carrot. I've seen many carrots but this one was definitely special.

And as I stood there with my soup and my bread rolls, I grinned knowingly, or un-knowingly as the case may have been.

"40 cents", said the checkout girl.

A bargain I would reckon.

I'd seen similarly shaped devices in the shop next door for $40.

"And would you like a bag for your carrot?"

Now it didn't really require a bag. But, either the checkout girl was asking as part of her spiel,... or she recognized its obscenity and knew what was going on.

Either way, she revealed nothing. Not even the twinkling of an eye.

So the lady took the bag and fished around in her purse for the exact change. The offensive vegetable was stuffed in a plastic bag and the lady trudged off home or someplace where she could be alone with the carrot.

So did the lady go into the store just to buy one carrot? Or was it impulse buying?

I guess such perfectly shaped vegetables are impossible to walk past.

And what became of the carrot?

I bet it will turn up on eBay.



* Safeway = Melbourne equivalent of Woolworths.

The 86

I saw an old man on the tram, who reminded me of another old man who looked and sounded like Detective Senior Sargeant O'Riley from Cop Shop.

"Baker!"

"Ah,... Yes, Detective Senior Sargeant O'Riley?"

"Where are those reports?"

"Ah,... I am just trying to get the new computer set up, Detective Senior Sargeant."

"Computers eh?...", and he would take of his bi-focals and chew pensively on the arm.
"Sounds like a waste of time to me... You just make sure you get those reports to me. I want them on my desk first thing Monday morning!"

"Ah,... yes sir, Detective Senior Sargeant."

And then Linda Stoner would walk on, sporting legs that could only end in my dreams.

The driver sounded like Darth Vader with an Italian accent.

"Next Stop, Ex-hi-bi-tion Street." "Now you will know the Dark side."

"Swan-ston Walk,... the Alliance will under-estimate the Emperor's powers."

And I looked over at the old man. As the train ground to a halt outside one of Melbourne's many venues, the doors flung open and a blast of the night air washed over us as if someone had thrown a bucket of water.

Some diva was wailing about shaking her ass in-between the perfunctory beats of the doof-doof music.

A little further up the aisle, a man had collapsed on himself in the throes of drunken slumber. Vodka and raspberry spilled a trail down the length of the carriage, and the empty bottle rolled between his feet. The passenger opposite studied him nervously, hoping that his shoes would be lucky. And that the drunk man's head didn't end up in his lap from any sudden braking.

I watched the old man.

He had a look on his face like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

This would never happen in his day.

A good time was standing around the piano singing saucy sea shanties and drinking cups of tea. And taking his partner to the dance where he would bring her home by 11, and if he played his cards right, a kiss on the cheek before heading home with a neatly folded handkerchief as a momento of his sojourn.

The tram pulled away. Even though the tracks led to Bundoora, and I was getting off in a few stops, the old man didn't know where we were all headed.