Aldi Alert!! Aldi Alert

This week Aldi has outdone themselves even by my estimates. This week you can get your milk and bread and then drop a Cement Mixer into your trolley. That's right a CEMENT MIXER. I mean its a steal at only $329 for a 120L drum capacity, 450W motor, with unmixed dry capacity of 85L. It has a cast iron gear, with dual handle design, in a solid steel construction and the best part, its easily assembled. It even has a one year warranty. So you can now do all your own concreting around the home or office which is perfect for that new driveway you have been dreaming of. Or when you get more established in your concreting skills you can always put in a few new walls. If you make a mistake don't panic Aldi has thought of everything with a 1500W Jackhammer on sale for a mere $229. It is touted as an electronic demolition jackhammer with an impact rate of 900-1800bpm with an output power of 25 joules. It is shock resistant with a D-shaped handle it includes flat, point chisels and grease and it also has the advantage of a one year warranty. So if you are worried that concreting and demolition may be a little on the boring side don't fret pet because whilst you are hammering and concreting your way into a new pool or in law accommodation you can blast your troubles away with the Tradesman Heavy Duty Radio. It is cheap at only $39.99 and what a great addition to your cement mixer and jackhammer and something no true tradie should be without. It has an AM/FM radio with a rotary volume control, carrying handle and waterproof 3W speaker output with AC/DC operation. Sadly Aldi are not selling Blue Cattle Dogs or Singlets but you could always source these items yourself if you manage to not burn the skin off your hands and body using lime, please note lime melts skin, k. So get cracking and you could be keeping your dream alive thanks to Aldi.

"Oh Iva One Year On And I Still Love You"

It was a year ago yesterday that I interviewed Iva Davies from Icehouse for WSFM. I pretty much made a total goose of myself that day, from gushing to tears to out pourings of love and so much verbal spewing from me that I am sure he was glad to leave the studio. My finest moments were when I began sweating profusely and dripping it all over him, walking toward him at Fox Studios in a pair of ridiculous hot pink metallic high heeled stilettos that were killing me thus making me walk like I had just got out of rehab from a major car accident and ending it all with the most wet fish hug and kiss at the end of our meeting on record. It was so bad we both laughed and did it for real the second time and made a right go of hugging each other. It was a surreal experience on the most part, and I don't ever want to hear that interview ever ever again, I know I made him laugh but frankly meeting your music God is never a good thing. Still he sent me a CD and a lovely note and yes I sniffed the Australia post packaging because it smelt like him and surprisingly he had gone to the Post Office to send something to me. If only I had known all those years ago Iva Davies would pop off down the post office to send something to me I may not have spent so many hours in my darkened bedroom listening to his music and musing about how depressing my teenage years were. If only I knew I would hold his hand one day and give him a sweaty hug and act like someone who had just free based an ounce of crack.

Busting For A Southerly Buster

Our air-conditioning at home is broken, we have eaten enough super doopers to drown a dog and I am contemplating laying nude on the bathroom tiles. This is something I have not had to do since I was about 8 when there was no such thing as air conditioning, at least not in anyones house I knew. So I am now praying for a southerly buster, much like the one in the photo which was a gargantuan storm in the afternoon one day last year. As you can see Chris thought it might good to pan for gold when the opportunity presented itself in the street outside our house. Surprisingly he only got a few plastic chip packets. Dork that he is.

Fabulous Comments

Today I had two great laughs at people who made fabulous comments. The first was someone unknown and unseen to me. Whilst I was trying to squeeze my now fuck off huge arse into anything that might fit me in a change room at K-Mart I overheard two girls in the cubicle adjacent to mine come out with the following conversation.

(Girl 1) “Oh my god like is that a like Chanel handbag”

(Girl 2) “Like yes it is”

Pause………

(Girl 1) “God like do you think like this is like too tight on me”

(Girl 2) “Like it doesn’t matter if it like stretchs like its only $12.99 anyway?”

As far as I’m concerned that was pure gold and I wanted to as the younglings say ROLF but at that very moment I was too busy counting the dimples on my arse from the view I had of them via a three way change room mirror complete with fluoro lighting.

The second comment came via the most lovely girl in my university class, she should be the poster girl for Byron Bay what with being very brown and very beautiful and emitting a certain sense of knowing and intelligence rarely seen in many under 25’s these days I believe the NSW tourist commission should snap her up immediately to promote the place. I mean if she makes her own vegetable soap and lives in a tepee which I am yet to ask if she does then the local minister for tourism needs to get hold of her straight away because the locals could be swimming in the revenue she could raise.

As a side note she in no way resembles Lynda Wolstenholme the second coming, although Lynda mark II was as usual full of questions tonight but no where near as on fire as previous occasions perhaps the heat had effected her but during the break the conversation with Miss Lord Byron went something akin to this; (Ed. Like my English literature reference to Lord Byron I am getting cleverer huh)

(Me) “You have heard of Live Aid you know it was in the 80’s before you were born”

(Miss Lord Byron) “Yes I watched the video”

So there you have it, not a DVD but a video. I guess I should be grateful she didn’t say it was viewed via a Beta version.

Note On K-Mart Shopping: Look I can afford to shop at more pricey boutiques but we all remember the last time I ventured into one and was forced to be cut out of an outfit with a pair of scissors by a sneering shop assistant who knew I knew I would never have fit into it. Damn near dislocated my fucking arm. So the fact is until I stop eating junk food and walk back in the door to crunchie fitness centre – see previous post about them – I aint never going to fit into nufin but a sad old K-Mart Moo Moo. I know, I know if Fergie can do it so can I but I probably have till the child is 2 in March to keep up the old “I just had a baby” line before I really have to hit that gym….Oh and you know I will have to start because its Rome in July and god knows the Italians will never let me off the tarmac with a dress size higher than a 12 cause it just aint fashionita enough for em.

The Intriguing Case Of Boo Radley

When I first purchased my house I paid no attention to the people who lived next door, across the street or in any part of the local area. I have always shunned neighbours; perhaps living in public housing growing up caused me to be scarred for my life when it comes to “knowing your neighbours”. This is partly due to the fact they were more often than not the local drug lord or just out on bail for a serious crime so it paid to stay within the confines of ones own home. So therefore after forking out a large wad of cash for my home I had no intention of it becoming my own personal prison because I was forced to never leave in case one of the neighbours spotted me and wanted “a chat”. Or as was the case in public housing a fist fight over some money they insisted you owed or perhaps didn’t owe, but hey they were bored so why not cause blood to piss from your head, they had no teeth so why should you. So it came as a shock when the neighbour across the road not long after we moved in stopped and had a "friendly chat" with me, you know all, "how are you" and "how are you settling in", blah, blah, blah. I of course nodded attentively and tried not to look like I wanted to run off and enter the sanctury of my front door.

Then he asked me if I had noticed my neighbour who lived directly opposite, I said I hadn’t and he assured me I would be intrigued by this man. Why I uttered to him. “Well he is a bit odd, he replied” I thought that was a big thing for him to say given the fact I am far from normal, oh god he has worked me out and will soon burn crosses in front of my house. So I just said I would keep a keen eye out for him and that was the end of that. So over the course of the next say three years I kept a keen eye out for my neighbour across the road and I never set eyes upon him. Of course it became quite the obsession in the end. So I eventually ended up naming my mysterious neighbour, Boo Radley. Of course though I had not yet eye balled him I most certainly had done some detective work trying to find out as much as I could about him.

My first Boo intrigue came when my flat mate Peter told me about how at 4:30am after his alarm had gone off every weekday morning he heard the distinct sound of footsteps walking or somewhat clomping past his window which faced the street. Every morning like clockwork the footsteps went by, and he believed they belonged to Boo as he had seen the top of his head drift past his window. I might point out at this stage that Peter and every one else had already seen Boo, everyone expect for me. So he had a positive id of Boo and I wanted to see him. So over the course of a few months, when I could be bothered to wake up at 4:30am I would get up and wait for Boo to leave his home.

The first night I saw Boo emerge from the shadows of pre dawn dusk I almost screamed with excitement. There he was, as real as real and in the dark he scampered up the street somewhat like a hermit. His look was extraordinary. He was an elderly man, probably in his late 60’s, standing at a mere 5”1 tall with a very slight frame, so much so that in subsequent blogs on this subject I will tell of the day he nearly was blown away because he is so slim but his dress sense was the thing I was most intrigued by. He always wore a red/claret coloured short bobbed wig with purple polyester flared pants and a purple flowery polyester shirt with large lapels and the buttons undone to show off a large amount of gold chains which hung down around his open bared chest strangely the chains were weighed down with large gold dollar signs.

Without doubt though the best part of his ensemble was the terribly high purple platform shoes which were definitely circa issue 1969. He looked like he may be heading home from a night at Studio 54 but had missed the bus home and was arriving 25 years too late. So I watched this curious creature of the night travel up the street as often as my body allowed me to get up at 4:30am, but I was desperate to know more and most importantly see him in broad daylight…

Stay tuned boppers, Stay tuned….

I Think Boy George May Die

Poor Boy George, I do love him. Of course I never really got into the whole the boy is dressed up as a freak thing, it was very 80’s and cute but it was his music which always blew me away not his taste in cloths or makeup. I mean as far as being a freak is concerned I just looked at him like I would anyone else as in I thought he was normal and really could never understand why people found him to be so confrontational. I guess it’s all that pent up sexuality that so many people waste their lives on but to me it was just normality. Still this may have something to do with the friends I keep, but to me he has always been just a love lorn loon who fell for the wrong man and suffered as a consequence. Thankfully I am happy Jon Moss treated him like shit or he never would have written “Victims”. So it pains me now to think he is sitting alone in some jail cell for a crime that he possibly committed but I don’t believe he deserved such a harsh sentence for. My only hope is that he see’s this as a golden opportunity to do something creative, like write, but in that environment with a bunch of con’s singing the worst rendition of Karma Chameleon that they can muster I think the only option he may feel he has is the early release scheme. Suicide. I really hope this doesn’t happen because I think he is an amazing person, just a little bit fucked up, but if the eyes of the world were on me I have no doubt I would be hitting more front pages of NW magazine than Britney has had gash flashes. So to George the one who enlightened me in the ways of the crying game I only hope you are not falling victim to your own lyrics because by Christ you sure as hell know all there is to know about the crying game.

Afternoon Tea

Yesterday I was sitting in a café just off Darlinghurst Road in Kings Cross having afternoon tea with Glenn. Whilst I was sitting listening to him rattle on about loves lost and longed for I noticed that the many trees which line the streets in the area were losing hundreds of dead leaves in the large southerly buster winds which were whipping up a frenzy after a very hot 40c day. It was amazing to watch them flutter down to the ground because in a strange way it looked like large snow flakes. I pointed this natural wonderment out to Glenn and we both paused for a while to watch. Perhaps as I get older I tend to notice things like this more. I certainly now have a thing for incredible sunrises and sunsets but then I have always loved a southerly buster it is something so unique to Sydney and it means I am home in many different ways.

Happy New Year - I think.....

I am back, I am back from knowhere. I went knowhere and did nothing over Christmas and New Year but sit in bed and be sick. Now I am a full bundle of health and I am going to start trying to blog as often as I can. It's about time I got this blog on the go and really revved it up so in 2009 that is what I am going to do, I am also going to get a website happening. Though this will be longer to get going. Anyway I have plenty of stories on the way so "be lookin good boppers be lookin good."