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I ran out of bandwidth due to downloading too much. So now I can get back to blogging and stop watching porn.

A Fantastic Interlude to Life

Went out with friends to my favorite Japanese restaurant, went to the rest rooms and had the following exchange with a Gen Y.

(Whilst seated in the lavatory the lovely young lady in the receptacle beside me could be heard vomiting, later whilst washing my hands I spotted said young lady also washing her hands next to me the following exchange took place)

Me: Bad Night?

Her: Yes

Me: Feeling ill you poor pet?

Her: Yes

Me: Oh

Her: Yeah but it like shits me when people like don't tell you what you are like eating as a joke!

Me: Raw Fish?

Her: Like yeah its like totally not funny at all!

Me: A Ha...

Me: (In my head) The rather large sign out the front of the place in neon lights with the words JAPANESE didnt give you a hint, Oh Fuck what unleashed hell have we got on our hands with the under 25 set when they dont know JAPANESE = RAW FISH!

Please Read Old Post From Friday Regarding Ye Olde Flatmates!

I wrote a post on Friday which I edited and therefore you need to step back in time to read it, actually you just need to scroll down to the new post - My Old Flatmates, blah blah blah, read it you might like it. Feel free to heckle, you know you want to.

The Coyote on Scrapbooking

Seriously if I told you that I had come up with a brilliant idea to make millions of dollars and then I explained the concept of scrap booking you would tell me to go get fucked. I am amazed that people scrapbook. I am more amazed that anyone would take that much time to slap a photo into a book and "decorate" it and then place it in the lap of some poor unsuspecting and watch as they flip the pages of their scrapbook to discover that yes they had a wonderful holiday at Kangaroo Valley last year. Thankfully I have been spared the indignity of either having to ever scrapbook or look at the finished product between that and carbon emissions I am losing my will to live.

The Coyote On High School Reunion's

Last week my friend Adrian told me about going to his twenty year High School Reunion which he attended the other week. I was impressed that he was not at all concerned about what other ex-school friends thought of him now that he was all grown up. I was equally impressed that he said he found the gathering to be very uplifting and really exceeded his expectations of how the past can be left behind and new friendships can be formed in the most unlikely quarters. So the conversation got my mind working in overdrive. What if I were asked to attend my high school reunion.? Would I go? It poses an interesting conundrum since I only need to roll over in bed and, bang! high school reunion. So supposing the situation outside of the four walls of my bedroom did eventuate and I had to make the very real decision of whether to go or stay away which would I choose?. So on Sunday evening whilst having dinner for the second time with a friend from high school that I recently reconnected with since leaving school I posed the what if there is a reunion question to him. His response was that he had already attended a reunion for his form and it all went as he had expected it to. The interesting twist that he filed in my brain under, "mental note to self upon not attending a school reunion", was that for anyone who didn't attend then the rumour of what they "thought" became of that person was left to run rife. Of course being a one woman PR machine I figured I could potentially cover the dilemma of the rife rumour with a bullshit story that I had been eaten by the ghost of Leigh Bowry at an underground party in London and regurgitated as a fucked up journo that carnt even spell. But would I want that to be my legacy, a potentially dodgy rumour that would no doubt be lost in translation as was my entire high school career. So if and when the occasion should arise I will have to rethink the whole thing and for that reason my mind wanders to my wonder boy PK (see previous post) in school uniform and days when life was a lot more emotionally complicated than it is now, believe it or not.

Auto Cashier

Despite the fact that in shopping centres throughout the world there are cashiers losing their jobs due to automation, umm I'm sorry but I just love doing it myself. I find myself buying smaller amounts just so I can scan my own stuff, muck about with the credit card payment thingy and generally enjoy playing cashier for at least a small part of a day. You see when I was about 17 I had to work in order to pay for my schooling so I did the only thing I was qualified to do, oh and probably still am, work at Franklin's as a cashier, aka, "check out chick". It was definitely up there with one of the most fun jobs I have ever had. Strangely I got the job through a friend from schools girlfriend and the store was nowhere near where I either went to school or lived so therefore I never had the embarrassment of having someone I knew come through my checkout so I always felt comfortable and enjoyed the job without the scrutiny of people you really don't want knowing you have such a lowly job. It was in the days when scanners were new and there was no such thing as paying by credit card or eftpos. In fact I can remember people paying by cheque and I was always impressed by how much money some people seemed to have.

Though I guess what interested me most was the string of love affairs I had with boys who also worked there part time. You know the freezer boys with those big all in one padded suits, oh the fun times, oh the freezing cold conditions at lunch time but oh the fun times and oh how I will never look at a frozen chicken the same way again. Oh okay okay get your mind out of the gutter we just played chook lotto it was harmless but not always for the chickens. The job also cemented my fetish for fresh clean new money. I am a big sucker for new money, the smell, the touch and the feeling of it in your wallet, lovely. So I guess that is why I now find myself playing check out chick at every shop I can possibly find that provides an automated check out, I speed beep my stuff and use one plastic bag per item, Fuck the Planet!. So thanks to me kissy pooing with a lot of boys in the freezer at Franklins in my youth the world is going to be sinking about 2 meters into the ocean due to my pathetic plastic bagging and lack of employment for those less fortunate students out there, umm yeah sorry about that, Not!

Note: I realise it is a little late, about twenty years too late but sorry again to the woman's azaleas that I destroyed whilst at a Franklins end of year party that I stumbled out of with a freezer boy. I recall we landed in her wonderful garden across the road. She did come out waving a broom at us and I will forever feel I blew her chance to be apart of Burke's Back yard one day so yeah sorry bout that.

Dinner = Yum

I went to a lar de dar restaurant tonight that far exceeded my expectations. Although despite this fact I did find that upon receipt of ones finely crafted dinner the waiter was required to give you a full description of exactly what you were about to eat, pointed to each thing on the plate and provided commentary of the foods origin and what exactly it was. Perhaps this was par for the course when you are paying for the course, still it was good except that I was more interested in my dinner companion's conversation to listen to what I was being told, hence I am guessing I ate some piggy with a bit of pear. Umm me thinks.... Oh how I love to talk, and maybe next time I may actually pay attention to the waiter, or perhaps not.

One From The Vault - My Old Flatmates Ben & Matt

I once lived in a big terrace house in Redfern in Sydney, Australia. It was huge and it was completely filled with boys. Yes and that is the main reason I moved in, boys, boys, boys. I figured if I lived with boys then there was the very real possibility they were bound to have more than enough male friends and I was right on that front in fact I was in boy land literally. I moved in very quickly as I had no time to think about my accommodation during that time in my life, it went something like drop your bags here and welcome to your new home. Apart from the boys I also loved the house it was a cavernous array of rooms and places that if you stepped in then it was possible you would find something or someone you were not expecting, and some. That house seemed to have a knack for taking care of you especially when you needed it. Take for instance the day I found an old typewriter in a broom cupboard just when I needed to knock up a resume, or the time I came across some great costume jewelery just before heading out to a fancy dress party. Of course all the things were from old flatmates past who had obviously discarded them in one cupboard or another. So I found shortly after moving in that in fact I had landed myself in party central with having unknowly moved in with two well known Sydney DJ's, Cha Ching boy jackpot, Yay! At the time I worked from 6pm till 4am five nights a week so I was used to being awake all night so when I would return from work at 4:30am or so the party would be well in full swing in the extremely huge loungroom we had. Boys! Boys! Boys!. So I would trot out of work and get fully made up again just to return home before dawn, ahh those were the days!

Without doubt living with Ben was fantastic he was comical and could certainly get the party started especially in his undies, which he had to do one night when I came bursting in the door unexpectedly with a bunch of friends and made him play songs all night not realising he was actually on his way to bed when we arrived but I could not see him from my vantage point as he was standing behind the DJ decks that were set up in the lounge room at the time. Poor pet was forced to stay awake and entertain my friends only to emerge from behind the decks after everyone had left wearing nothing more than a frown and his undies.

So I then bring you to Matt, well what can I say about Matt, executive by day, party animal extraordinaire by a zillion at night. I can not tell you how many times I saw Matt so completely on another planet from say early Friday morning through to the following Tuesday fortnight. I also can not tell you how many times I saw him face down on the lounge room floor looking like he was dead. I really felt living in that house that one day I would be living the "He died with a fallafel in his hand" dream. I also never saw Matt pay for a drink or a good time in his life I think people just kept him juiced up because he was quintessentially a party starter. Dear Matt he was a super flatmate but boy did he get blamed for everything that ever went wrong in that house from not putting out the garbage, to setting it on fire, to never washing up, and oh yes the spot of bother we had when the entire roof caved in, none of which were his fault at all. I miss those heady days of parties and boys and running down the stairs during a party to open the front grill gate to about a million young lads who watched in glee as my jacket burst open and revealed my boobies. No I didn't do it on purpose! and yes I spent the rest of the night holed up in my room listening to the male guests telling each other about the fabbie female house mate who flashed boys for no apparent reason.

So now that I have turned into a fully fledged grown up person, I think, and I believe that Ben and Matt have now also become fully fledged grown ups, I think, we are going to have a get together. Who knows what capers and hi jinx will ensue but I can tell you I have only revealed about 1% of what really used to go on in that house suffice to say if the walls could talk they would be appearing next week on The View!