The Flaneur

In my first year of uni, we learned about the flaneur (thank you Walter Benjamin and Contemporary Cultures 1). It was such artsy fartsy pretentious stuff we had to like live and breathe for 6 weeks. Every other UTS Communications student I've met has lived through the experience of writing massive essays on the flaneur.

Yesterday I was walking back through Town Hall station. I am a pretty unobservant person and pretty much will go ladidadida while a roaring blazing fire plumes black smoke out of Centrepoint on my way to work. So it was a lot for me to notice that this homeless looking man is convulsing about on the ground. Heaps of people are sort of giving him a wide berth, doing the staring thing at him but then moving on. There's a group of about 4 guys in their late teens or early twenties pointing and laughing at this man.

So when I get up to him and see his eyes rolled back in his head, the uncontrollable convulsing of an epileptic fit clearly taking place and a bit of foaming at the mouth going, I immediately call 000. The ambulance man gets the details, tells me what to do to check on him. The coffee lady who's phone I had to borrow is all freaking out and not serving anyone coffee. At least she cared enough about another human.

The station staff finally arrive. All they do is put a fence around him. At this point he's stopped convulsing but is lying face down into a small pool of spittle. The look of utter disdain on all their faces like he was some scum who was messing up their lunch break or something.

The world is full of heartless fuckers. Worse than the flaneur, they purposely, actively would let someone die. It's not even asking to do someone a favour or going out of your way to do a nice thing. It's common fucking courtesy if you are human to do a very very very simple thing to stop someone from dying needlessly. People are cunts.

I hate not hating, it's too weird

It's a little disconcerting when Undies pretty much does everything I want and pretty much disappears from my life except for the fortnightly annoying conversation.... I hate saying this but I don't hate him so much right now.

He was even texting as he walked past me on the street so didn't see me, while I was going all spy-like trying to see if I could blend in with the posters stuck on the building so he wouldn't talk to me. But it was perfect, his floppy wig and ugly clothes just totally bypass me. I think I need to buy a lotto ticket I've been so lucky without a sighting for a while and without an actual undies incident for over 2 weeks now.

Damn it Buu. Stoke up that hatred! Let it fester and get all pustule-y and go all gangrenous. Undies must still die.

Criminal Tangents

Shit. That post got lost cos of my stupid internet connection. Thanks alot Virgin.

Anyways blah blah blah Undies ramblings about his criminal past and how his human rights are being breached now because the airport won't let him through or something and he wants me to do something about it. I'm immediately thinking deportation! woohoo!! but I manage to continue to studiously ignore him and he finally prances off.

I have tried to google him and find out if I really can get him deported and for once he has lead me to fun! Google Crimestoppers and check out the wanted lists. OMG hours of enjoyment there! I must say there was pride welling up inside me that Australia has the absolutely most bogan looking wanted crims in the world. Totally awesome.

Um I just walked home behind a man with a polar bear on his head

Super surreal. I nearly followed him all the way home I was so hypnotised by the polar bear (hat?)(I think it may have been a giant puppet he used as a hat??). I wish I'd remembered to take a photo!

If my life were a website

www.jordanianssuck.co.jd
www.yesanotherglassofwineactuallymakethatabottleplease.co.nz
www.ohmygodtheresafirefighterandheshotexclamationmark.com.au
www.myflatmateeatsmycheeseandicecreamanditannoysmelots.com.au
www.raspberrybrowniecheesecakeROCKS.com.au/mudgeeroadtrip
www.iamthefemmemacgyver.com
www.sowhatifimbitterleavemealonewithmybitterness.com
www.jamesmcevoydrooooool.co.uk
www.myotherflatmateprancesinundies.com.au/hesafuckwitwithbadhair
www.icantreverseparkcosihavenopowersteeringinmycar.com
www.iamsuremystupidityandrandomness.com/istheresultofabraintumour
www.icantresistbiddingforthingsonebay.com/thatitotallydontneed

Honestly this is great to release all the ugly anger in me, so therapeutic.

Oh and OMG how good are pancakes?

Pigdog fucker who pisses me off

Undies man returns home. I heard keys jangling but I couldn't get my shit together in time to bolt upstairs to my room. I was hope hope hoping it wasn't stupid Undies but unfortunately, it was.

I did everything I could to make him realise I was not interested in engaging in any form of communication. I did not look at him. I pretended to read the paper, while also being on facebook and texting Al. But the Pigdog Undies Bastard just kept yammering away. AND THEN even more arrogant pigdog of him asks me if I'm okay and coping because I haven't seen him for two weeks. AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR. I was all uuuummm bumhead I am surviving quite well without seeing you fuckbrain.

Then he goes on about how he fixed all these things in the flat and how we were all pathetic at fixing things and that was it okay that he was the man of the house who fixes things because he's so good at fixing things. FUCK OFF AND DIE FUCKING UNDIES MAN

I am a catchphrase or three

The grass is always greener. You always want what you can't have. I can't think of a third.

I could have had something long ago. But I wasn't sure I wanted that something. I kinda toyed with that something, held it in my hand, pictured my life with that something, was that something really worth the hassle? And now I can't get that something at all, can't find it, can't see it, can't even ebay it.

Sigh.

No brain tumour but I'm still a blubbering mess

I never get headaches. Right up until last year when they hit me pretty constantly after getting the cervical cancer vaccine jab. So on top of the whole awkward sex lecture various geriatric male GPs gave me, the massively intense pain of the injection itself (along with one GP letting my blood flow freely from my arm instead of putting a fucking band aid on it and commenting "Oh. Look. You're exanguinating"), a little publicised side effect that caused me to possibly harass Richard Branson and also tell my new manager and Director to "go have some gay sex together", it's also given me killer fucking migraines.

ANYWAY. I thought it might have been my glasses cos I am blind without them and wear them 24/7. I got my eyes checked out and they were all good. Glasses were still the right prescription. My trusted optometrist tells me if I keep having regular headaches then I should see a doctor.

OK so it's now 4 months later and after freaking out that I have brain tumour because along with the migraines I am also:

1. Substituting numbers for letters in my emails and typing like a late onset dyslexic
   [e.g. Su8stitut1ng num83rs for 7etters in my ema17s and ty9ing 7ike a 7ate onset dys7exic]
2. Become every more clumsy and uncoordinated than usual
   [e.g. a) missing my mouth when I am drinking from a glass]
   [e.g. b) tumbling over on a mini step in my own garage and somehow straining ligaments in the bottom and side of my foot which causes the docs to comment on how weird my injury is and that it makes so sense as to how I could have fallen - BTW this was also the 3rd x-ray and 2nd ultrasound I had to get for injuries that year]
3. Being unable to speak sentences without the use of "so", "like", "anyway" and "so like anyway" every third word and generally not being able to construct sentences or say words with more than 2 syllables.
4. Having verbal diarrhoea bitching about someone to thinking it's behind their back but it's actually to their face (honestly though this is probably a step forward in being more honest about who I really am)
5. Going from my room or the living room to the kitchen (about a 10 second walk) and standing in the kitchen trying to remember what it was that I came in their for.
6. Being all emotional and crying over episodes of Scrubs, Beverly Hills 90210 (the Original series), Gossip Girl and movies like Bride Wars and the House Bunny (this was interspersed with hilarious unable to breathe laughing).

I go see a doc yesterday. He makes me watch his tingling fingers with one eye each. He then makes me wrinkle up my forehead. Then he grabs my arms and pushes me. Then I had to grab him and push him. And then I have to make chicken wings with my arms. And he tells me I am ok.

So basically this blubbering, weeping, bumbling, blabbering, incoherent-mess-for-absolutely-no-reason-at-all......... is just me being me. Awesome

No longer disgruntled and it's weirding me out

So I got one of those auto email welcome updates from a product I purchased a week ago which happens to be a product of my former employer who up until a few minutes ago I despised and resented with quite a bit of passion. I pick apart every word, phrase, tone, blackout that happens when I call or write or use their product. I love to hate them.

But GOD. I was totally won over by it. And I have no idea why. It was just kinda nice for a little personal touch (even though I know in my head there was nothing personal about it and it's a total ploy). Maybe it was cos it came after a week and not just at the point of purchase so good ploy former employer, good ploy indeed. Jon Bradshaw rocks.

What the hell is wrong with me????

Brazil isn't even on the same continent as Spain. They don't even speak the same language!

FYI Wildfire is a Brazilian restaurant, not Spanish. Geeezus. If you're going to organise a birthday party at least get those details right.

Cutesy wootsey

Aiden is soooooo adorable. Today he managed to:

• sit up in the high chair all by himself without flopping over cos he's still a 7 month old floppy baby.
• lick every part of the his little drink bottle without actually going for the bit you drink out of. And with such gusto too!
• rip half the leaves off one of the pot plants in the restaurant.
• get terribly excited at waiting at the bus stop for 30 minutes and watching all the brrrm brrrm cars and trucks and buses and pedestrians go by.
• growl and babytalk for about 2 hours straight (apparently because he has a cold and he likes the sound of his newly gruff and butch voice now that he's all nasally and clogged up)(aaaawww!!! I totally <3 Aiden! ).

I don't high 5

I really hate high 5ing. It's so unnecessary.

But after 11 months of avoiding the high-5 from a work colleague, I relented. He said he felt like he needed a ciggie after it. Ahem. Creepy.

More on pigdog #2

So my friend Al once commented that Mr G was the kind of guy that lurks at the bar at last call and lures the drunkest woman who can't fend off his lecherous hairy advances to his place. And can I say that is such a scarily accurate description that I can't believe I didn't think of it myself first.

Anyways, I hear a drunk lady come back with him the other night. Wow, I was feeling soooooo sorry for the wake up and walk of shame she'd have to do the next day. Then I immediately put in some ear plugs went la la la la la la la la la think nice pretty thoughts think nice pretty thoughts la la la la la la la la so that I didn't have the image of Mr G getting some action in my dreams.

He was a bit upset that none of us talked to him about his loud sex romp. So he starts to bring it up in conversation and I immediately bolt. Like bam, totally ran off, because that's the only way to stop him droning. Too bad for Miss D that she didn't realise this and he kept going "Oh Miss D, I had someone over this week. I had a party! Oh she was a WOMAN and we partied and I just want you to know Miss D that it's okay if you were listening to me shagging the comatose woman and oh gosh are you picturing me and my undies prancing sexily? Oh dear, I did not want you to picture me and my pigeon chest and white body gyrating and having sex. Oh Miss D, I will always tell you when I have a party so that if you don't join my party, you can imagine me having a sex party okay?"

He horrifies me.

Pigdog #2

So I have this flatmate who purposely prances about in undies. He is currently the bane of my existence.

But when you share a flat, and he is someone who has shared many a flat before, it's just common courtesy about how you act around your flatmates. I thought it was a given that you just don't wear your dirty little undies and purposely come out to the kitchen or lounge or other common areas when you hear someone talking then go all "Oh. Whoopsy daisy! Look at me, oh, I am in my undies. Oh that's embarrassing isn't it? Me here in my undies? Oh dear, I am in my undies, what a shock, my undies are just here for all to see" etc etc for about 5 minutes while I am doing anything I can to avoid eye contact including holding my empty bowl and pretending I am totally engrossed in eating the delicious invisible substance inside.

My other flatmate disagreed with me about how he was getting aroused out of the flashing. She thought that his yelling at her "Oh Miss D! You just stay upstairs there because oh gosh, look, I am in my undies again. It's me Mr G and I'm in my undies in the kitchen so you just stay away and don't think about me in my undies okay? Did you get that Miss D? Do not think of me and my pigeon chest in my dirty grey undies as I prance about the house touching my body and undies to all these common areas you will also soon touch? Oh gosh isn't it awkward that I am in my undies and you exist in this world where I prance around in my undies. Undies, undies, undies!"

To her, this meant that he was warning her and he was being all polite about it. To me, it's him trying to plant the imagery of him in undies in her head being all ugly attention seeker that he is. So that then he can talk about him in undies rubbing his crotch all over our possessions or something. EW.

But now she finally agrees with me after he purposely came out and did his little spiel flashing himself to her workmate who had come for a visit. This was after I had asked him not to come out again becuse we had guests.

I wish I'd told him to fuck off earlier. Fuck off Mr G and your bad bouffant hair.

I want to sleep but I can't sleep

See title.

He is a pigdog

I'm not sure why women are with men that are so clearly beneath them. Take for instance why Mr L who has propositioned her cousin for a threesome when she slept over on their sofa, constantly makes sexual remarks at any of her female friends in inappropriate circumstances (eg over dinner at a wedding reception... yes while sober so he should definitely know better), who talks about the way I orgasm when I eat his cooking (ew ew ew ew EW on so many levels)(and he is an OK cook but it's me being socially polite in telling him he cooks well because he constantly talks about how well he cooks) droning on about how there must have been some guy under the table pleasuring me I was so into his cooking.

Maybe it's because women like me are too nice and scared to tell a friend the man they love is a fucking bastard cheating pig dog who doesn't know how to cook puff pastry (and yes we all sat through eating the half raw pastry while he's pushing us to eat seconds and thirds which I politely decline).

He's still all puffy as though he's god's gift. To me, he's a pigdog.

I lick my cheese

Stay away from my cheese and my ice cream please. I also like my shoes to be unworn and borrowed handbags returned. Also would be extremely appreciated when you steal my car to fill up the petrol.

Oh and you over there, put some pants on.

Thanks.