I’ve started blogging again over at World Wide Jeb. See you there!

At work today, I had someone ringing me up about a certain uni course we offer. The only problem is we offer it at another campus to the one I work at, so I wasn’t able to supply this particular lady with any information - all I could offer was that she call the appropriate campus.

Ten minutes later she called me back again, with the same question. I repeated, that we hadn’t been given any detailed info on the course she was interested in. And repeated (kindly, through gritted teeth) could she PLEASE. TRY. CALLING. THE. APPROPRIATE. CAMPUS.

She rang again. And then again. And again. So I asked her finally if she would like me to fax her absolutely everything I knew on the course. She said “YES!!” So I faxed her a blank A4 sheet.

At work right now, we’ve got a woman who normally works at another campus of the uni I work at. She’s over at our campus right now for training, because basically, she can’t touch a thing without stuffing it up. She’s a walking catastrophe and I’m scared to go near her because my shoelaces spontaneously undo themselves etc - she has that effect on things. I mean, just today, she TWICE walked past my computer and it spontaneously crashed! Plus she sneezed, and my disk drive stuffed up mysteriously. It’s going to be an interesting fortnight.

Also, we have to count the incoming money from the library of the uni I’m at every morning. There’s a float of a set amount, so basically you get the profit, plus the amount you had when you began with (the float). Well, something’s going wrong, because we always seem to consistently be 50 cents under every day. Ms Superiority at my work (resident bitch) is going bananas about it, screaming things like RAT IN THE RANKS! She reckons someone is stealing money. I mean come on, if I was going to steal money, it’d be more than fifty cents. So either there’s a small discrepency in someone’s banking records, or there’s a very guilty person out there who’s buying a very illegal Chupa Chup every day.

I think my parents were having sex last night, but I wasn’t too sure. I hate things like that, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to go and check to make sure they were/weren’t.

You know how you have those moments where everything seems suddenly surreal - a ‘whatthefuck’ moment? I had one of those today.

I had to visit one of my mum’s older friends today to drop something off for her, and I walked into her loungeroom, and what is sitting in the centre of the mantlepiece but a bong. Initially I was taken aback, and didn’t really know what to make of it.. so I asked her what it was.

“Oh, it’s an ornament, I found it under my son’s bed after he left home. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I just didn’t have the heart to tell her.. maybe I should’ve introduced her into the lucrative world of marijuana growing. That’d certainly liven up the retirement home. (Actually… now I think about it… it’d do the direct opposite).

Today at work, somehow, we managed to get onto the topic of conversation of who we all thought each other looked like. Somehow everyone managed to arrive at the conclusion that I look like Kurt Cobain. (Which I personally disagree with, but anyway). So then Ms. Superiority, resident bitch at work, had to pipe up and say “Yeh, Kurt Cobain, after he shot himself! Bwahahahahahhahhahaha!” Hrm.

Yesterday, as I was catching the escalator out of the train station near my work, I noticed quite a disturbance ahead of me. People ahead of me on the escalator were suddenly reversing their direction and hurrying back down the escalators the wrong way, with looks of terror on their face. And why? Well, it seems a pipe had sprung a leak - right above the escalators. It was funny, because you couldn’t see the cascading waterfall right until you got near the top. So I just jumped through it anyway. It made going to work like being on a theme park ride. (Although, having said that, I wouldn’t necessarily spend money to go and ride an attraction called Soggy Escalators of Doom).

I overheard some workmen talking about the problem, assessing the situation. They were obviously very well trained.

Workman with Suspiciously Stained Grubby Shirt: Gee. That’s a lot of water.
Workman with More than the Acceptable Public Viewing Standard of Bum Crack: Yup.
Workman with Suspiciously Stained Grubby Shirt: It’s very…. clear water. Not dirty at all.
Workman with More than the Acceptable Public Viewing Standard of Bum Crack: Yup. Very clear.
Workman with Suspiciously Stained Grubby Shirt: Gee, there’s a lot of it.
Workman with More than the Acceptable Public Viewing Standard of Bum Crack: Mmm, lots.
Workman with Suspiciously Stained Grubby Shirt: Wanna go to Hungry Jacks?
Workman with More than the Acceptable Public Viewing Standard of Bum Crack: …………. yup.

If you’re not fortunate enough to live in Melbourne, there’s a shopping centre here, Melbourne Central, which features a giant class cone at the top of the building as its centrepiece. I remember when Melbourne Central first opened, it used to be called the Magic Cone. (I suspect the architects were the ones on the Magic Cones, but anyway). When the shopping centre first opened, the Cone kept leaking. Sounds like a bad medical condition, doesn’t it - Leaky Cone.

I’ve started to collect crap CD’s from Cash Converters to use as coasters. My first acqusition: Full Frontal The Album.

Instructions on a packet of soap I bought today (yes, I wash!): “Use like regular soap”. ……… and that would be how?

Today I went to the milk bar near my work to get some milk for the office. I had to ask for a receipt, because it was being paid for by my work. When I asked for a receipt, the horribly scary woman behind the counter goes “Oh but only because you’re such a sweetie”. So I said, “Yeh, that’s what my boyfriend says all the time.” It was worth it for the look on her face.

Some days at work I just feel like I’m dead all morning. I need cola of some sort to wake me up at that time of day. Unfortunately to me there’s something a little bit not right about Coke for breakfast tho, so I have to wait until the Cola Buffer Zone of 11am has passed. Sometimes I’m really hanging on for the buffer zone to pass.

Speaking of breakfast. A girl at work had tomato soup for breakfast this morning. Stomach of steel.

A girl at my work is violently against mobile phones. Today:

Mobile Phone Hating Woman: “Why should I get a mobile? Every bloody time someone rings me the topic of conversation will be Where Are You?!’

A guy at my work pulled up at the traffic lights this morning on his way to work and who was in the car next to him but Red Symons. My workmate said Red sort of gave him a “Oh, Look at me, I’m Red Symons, look at me” sort of look. So my workmate just looked at him like he had an enormous goober hanging out of his nose. (I find that technique works well on people, but they tend to do it back to me, and that’s usually because I actually do have an enormous booger hanging out of my nose).

Me and a workmate, on our lunch break, walked past an old guy busking with his saxophone today. He seemed to be doing this really cool vibrato effect with his sax, which I commented on to my friend. I then felt horrible as my workmate pointed out it wasn’t a vibrato effect - the guy was just a bit shaky.

I say record his sax behind a dance beat, record a novelty single under a name like DJ Wobbly, throw in the marketing machine of a major record company, and you’ve got quite a lucrative one-hit-wonder deal on your hands.

A small coffee incident today. In my office that I work in, we take it in turns to go and buy the coffee for morning tea. It was my turn this morning, and everyone wanted me to go to this new place across the road that specialises in making lasagna. So I bought about 6 coffees, and they loaded them up for me in a lasagne tray, which was basically made of something barely stronger than aluminium foil. When I arrived back in the office, the tray split and I became Jeb Latte. And even when I went back to get some more, one girl in the office complained her coffee had “too much dairy” in it. ?!

I overheard a student at my work say this today, to another student who was asking me for change from the cash register: “You know, when the GST comes in, I think you get charged GST, even if you’re just getting change - because that’s a service, isn’t it?”

Students are odd. Somehow they’ve managed to steal 40 toilet rolls from a single bathroom *in one day*. I don’t really want to know what they’re doing it - I mean, toilet rolls aren’t going to become the power currency of the new millenium or anything.

We had a repairman come in to the office today. He was repairing a photocopier which sits right near my desk. I wouldn’t normally complain but he had no control whatsoever over his flatulence. I’m not going to name any companies here but needless to say, he was a stinker.

Yesterday:

Me: Hey, your hair looks different. Did you do something to it?
Extremely vague female friend: Yes, I made it look different.

At my work (a university) right now, it’s time for students to hand in mid semester essays and do mid semester exams. Since I quit university last year, I’d completely forgotten how clever margin manipulation can turn a 4-page outline into a 100-page essay until I saw some of the students hand in their efforts.

I also had to help out in one of the classes today. There was a practical workshop going on, and students were being divided up into groups, and each group was headed by a student. After we’d read out who had been allocated to which group, there were some people left out, who we had to allocate. One guy had the last name Cox, and as we were reading out who was allocated to each group (eg: “Wilson will be in Culley’s group,”; “Anderson will be in Klemson’s group”) I made the unfortunate mistake of calling out “Cox will be in Bottams’ group”. (Say it out loud, and you’ll realise why the two fellas involved went bright red).

I also supervised another night school exam this evening. (I really wish I could enter the room to the SNAP of a latex glove just to scare all the students… but I can’t). The poor first year students, they really don’t have any idea. Do they really think they’re going to score any extra credit by colouring in the centre of every e, o, p, q, d and b in different jaunty colours on the cover of their exam?

I say, don’t worry about your exams. Unless the guy you’re copying from just shot himself. Ah, but seriously, if you’re a first year uni student, you should enjoy it, because it will be the best three years of your life.

As predicted, I ate a chicken foccacia with ice cream and tobasco sauce for lunch today.

I made the mistake of watching Entertainment Tonight today, and got all sorts of information I didn’t want to know, like how Pamela Anderson has gotten her breast implants removed. (If you missed it today, don’t worry - it’s a two part special so you can catch the rest of Pamela’s “pain, terror and torment” tomorrow). I also saw Richard Wilkins and screamed in terror.

I saw Bill Gates on the news tonight demonstrating his new mouse product. (Yes, the state of commercial news broadcasts is sad when a new Microsoft product counts as headline news). I was talking with a friend on the phone this evening about how Bill Gates is saying he’s going to donate 90% of his profits to charities when he retires.

This got us thinking. Theoretically, the charities could almost claim ownership on part of Microsoft. So maybe it won’t be long before we start seeing products like Microsoft World Vision Internet Explorer 6.

I’m sick today. We had some dodgy pizza last night (I didn’t really want to… but we did). I think it affected me. I had stomach cramps which got progressively worse, I had this odd metallic taste in my mouth, and I’m craving weird food.

Hang on. I’m not sick - I’m pregnant! (Well, perhaps not. I guess I’ll find out for sure depending on if I eat a chicken foccacia with ice cream and tobasco sauce for lunch tomorrow or not).

When I say things like this, it’s no wonder I’m not getting any higher than my current position at work:

Ms Superiority (resident office bitch): *trips over chair and goes hurtling, limbs flailing*
Me: Well, I’ll give you a 9 for style.
Ms Superiority (resident office bitch): *dark, evil, steaming glare*

But Ms Superiority isn’t the biggest bitch at work. Ohhh, no. most definitely not. There’s a woman who vists our office now and then, who normally works at the head office. I call her the Superbitch. She orders us around all day, then tries so hard to attempt to look busy and flustered, but I walk past her office and I can see her computer in the reflection of the glass behind her - she just plays Solitaire all day.

I had a really shit scary dream last night. It’s been a very long time since I had a nightmare that seriously scared me, but I had one last night.

Basically, some bombers came to Melbourne and completely destroyed the place with these giant yellow rays. It suspiscously looked like urine flying everywhere. Hmm. I thought I’d look this dream up in my Dream Dictionary - I don’t know about you, but I believe heavily in dream interpretation. It’s interestnig, anyway.

According to my Dream Dictionary, the dream I had last night means there’s a “threat to my way of life which you can avert by judicious action”. (Which actually makes a bit of sense right now). I dunno. I just thought it was a shit scary dream.

Maybe we need a new category of dreams. These dreams are the direct opposite of wet dreams - maybe we should call them brown dreams, because I know I almost shat myself.

Stupid Products That Really Exist #4052: a snowboard with this year’s AFL fixtures on it. As witnessed in Target by myself.

I’m writing this entry while I am supervising another night school exam at my work (a uni). I feel like a bit of a dill, because I suspected that 2 guys down the back of the room were copying each others’ work. I’d been giving them stern looks all evening (ah, power…) I thought I’d go one step further and stroll down towards the back of the room, doing my best attempt at an imposing and aggressive face. I sorta looked like a dickhead though, because when I got there I realised they were 2 rows apart.

Also, when I was strolling around the room further into the exam, this woman (who I at first thought was this blobby thing with a head and 4 limbs stuck to it) turned around and winked at me. I desperately hope the 2 incidents aren’t connected.

I’ve noticed that the first person to leave an exam room seems to be the most bimbo/himbo person in the room. The last person is always some old guy with an incredibly flushed face who’s yet to grasp the concept of personal hygine. You can always pick which student will be the first to leave the exam room - it’s the student who gets an oh-my-god-my-exam-just-turned-into-a-giant-turd look on their face as soon as they start reading the exam questions.

I had a guy in this evening’s exam who changed his desk 3 times because he said the other ones squeaked too much. The desks probably wouldn’t have squeaked so much if he would have stopped masturbating underneath them. (Oh, alright. That last bit isn’t true).

A guy at my work has just moved into a new home, and today I heard him on the phone to Telstra demanding his phone number be changed, because his new phone number has ‘666′ in it. They gave him a new phone number, so me and a mate had a bit of fun with it. You see, my mate has this program he downloaded off the net, which looks at your phone number and checks what words can be incorporated into it. Eg: The phone number ‘9481 2337′ can become the phone number ‘9481 BEER’, because the letter B corresponds to the number 2 on your phone keypad, the letter E corresponds to the number 3, and the letter R corresponds to the number 7. (If you’re confused, check your phone keypad). Anyway - it turns out that the numbers ‘662′ are in this guy’s new phone number, and out of these numbers you can make the word ‘NOB’. Which couldn’t be more appropriate, considering what this guy is like.

In the office I work in, we throw stationery items at each other when we’re pissed off - the larger the object, the more pissed off we are. Here’s a general guide to what we’re thinking and what we throw at each other:
‘You idiot’ - a paperclip.
‘Wanker’ - a pen.
‘That wasn’t funny’ - a ruler.
‘May the wrath of Satan have vegeance on your weak, pitiful soul’ - a brick.

In an exam I supervised Thursday night, I noticed one of the girls in the room was crying her eyes out. I guess she hadn’t studied or something. All the students have to get their exams signed by the superviser as they leave the room. The crying girl had managed to get her emotions in order when I signed her exam for her, but then a big glob of snot flew out her nose and landed on my signiture - which set off the waterworks again…

If you don’t live in Melbourne, you may not be aware of the proposed “Grollo Tower”, which was to be the tallest tower in the world. There’s been a lot of opposition to it, mainly because of the giant shadow it would cast, but it’s just been announced the tower is no longer going to be built. It was shaped like a really skinny, tall pyramid with the pointy bit cut off. So it really made me wonder when I overheard a co-worker say they were “glad the tower won’t be built because it looked like a giant penis”. If that’s his idea of the appearance of the male genitalia, I sure as hell don’t want to see what his looks like.

Did anyone else watch that crap Who Wants To Be A Millionaire show on Wednesday night? The excess theatrics really made me laugh. Sure, you might be winning thousands of dollars with every correct answer, but when you’re getting asked questions as pissweak as (read in ominous voice with oh-so-suspensful music in the background) “Telstra is one of Australia’s main telephone service carriers. What is the other?” I personally wouldn’t be mopping my brow and pretending to poo myself like these contestants (actors? *cough*) are.

Conversation I had with an American tourist who was asking for directions today:

Me: Some people say that Melbourne is like New York without the crime.
US Tourist: Well, where’s the fun in that, then?

I got off from supervising an exam this evening at my work, although I still had to work a little later than usual. It’s my sole purpose for living at the moment.

I visited the Body Shop on my lunch break today to be confronted with something that haunted me all day. I saw a product known only as Nipple Cream. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING AT ALL ABOUT IT!

A repair guy came in today to fix up a broken elevator near the office I work in. He was working on the premise of audio therapy, where he screams obsceneties at the elevator to make it work again. It’s prone to going to a different floor than the one you select, or not even going anywhere at all. So I was quite surprised when he yelled out at the top of his voice ‘YA STUPID POOFTER!’ to the elevator.

See, I always knew the elevator was stupid, but I had no idea it was homosexual. Silly me. We had a gay elevator all along… it sort of makes sense now. It always seemed to only play bad techno music from its speakers, and the pink-ish colour scheme is rather sus.

I’ve got a feeling the escalator at my train station might be bi. I’m told it goes both ways, anyway.

Right now I’m working 13 hour shifts at my university - I’m supervising the evening classes’ exams. As you can imagine, sitting there for 3 hours tends to bore you shitless, so while I was sitting there tonight, I wrote down a list of all the little quirks you see the students doing. You know, fiddling with their hair, chewing on their pen; but I’ve also written a guide so you can see what the students really mean by their actions in an exam situation. Thus:

* Exasperated sigh: I’m only doing this so I get the bloody qualification.
* Absently picking ear: Maybe my ear wax holds the answers.
* Shake of head: Let me just re-arrange my brain cells.
* Rolling head around: Well, if the shaking didn’t work, maybe this will.
* Hand on hip: If I act sassily agressive to the exam, maybe I’ll scare it into letting me pass.
* Fiddling with engagement ring: I’m going to kill my fiance when I get home, even though it’s my fault I didn’t study.
* Continuous looking back at the old woman at the rear of the room: You’re old, you probably studied instead of going out and getting drunk all the time. Mime me an answer. Please.
* Continuous and excessive use of Liquid Paper: Maybe if I inhale enough of this stuff I’ll get smarter.
* Holding pen between two fingers and sucking on it: I really need a cigarette right now.
* Holding Liquid Paper pen between two fingers and sucking down on the Liquid Paper: I really, really need a cigarette right now.
* Continuous looking at the token Baywatch Bimbo of the class: Maybe your voluptuous breasts hold the answers.
* Skulling down beer: I didn’t even bother turning up to the exam because I knew I’d fail anyway, so I thought I’d just get pissed with my mates.
* Continuous looking at the token Baywatch Bimbo of the class, and there’s only 10 minutes of the exam left: If only your breasts weren’t so voluptuous, I might have actually answered some questions.
* Wobbling, jittery leg: I can’t think straight, and I’m working on the assumption that seeing if you shake an Etch-A-Sketch hard enough the picture is cleared, then maybe if I shake my thigh up and down hard enough I’ll be able to clear my head.
* You’ve just poured a glass of wine and are attempting to eat the exam with a knife and fork: I’m mad, and I think this exam is really a piece of roast chicken.
* Squirming in seat: I’m so nervous.
* Constant squirming in seat: I’m so nervous, I just shat myself.
* Inanimate objects suddenly levitate and burst into flame: Maybe summoning Satan for the answers to the exam wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Sitting on the train today, I noticed someone blow his nose into his tissue, but then he did something I didn’t really expect. He opened his tissue in full view of everyone else to check out the goober he’d snorted out (no doubt giving himself a score out of 10). He probably has a whole system of texture, runniness, color, etc going every time he honks into a tissue.

Someone at work today bought some licorice today, and on the bag it says “Eating Licorice”. Think about this for a second. Eating licorice, as opposed to what? Cooking licorice? I asked the girl who’d bought it this, and she just absently shrugged, but then Ms Superior butted in (resident bitch at work) and announces “Maybe there could be erotic licorice,” (this was obviously met with odd stares). “You know, to whip each other with and stuff.” This just confirmed how much I don’t want to know what Ms Superior and her fiance get up to after hours. Then of course I had to open my mouth and take everything too far. “Erotic licorice.. hmm.. I guess you could call it confucktionery,” I said. I was met with even stranger stares. But that happens anyway without me telling bad jokes.

My flatmate has this Mario World game on his Game Boy, and it’s driving me nuts. I can’t get past the guy with spikes on his head who headbutts me, I’m not sure how to jump over a particular wall, and I’m still trying to figure out how to plant a bomb underneath this weird guy who keeps throwing rocks at me. (Oh. That last bit about the bomb, that wasn’t in the game. That’s me in real life).

Handy Household Hint #15023: Every morning when you get out of bed, wipe that eye-snot stuff out of your eyes into a jar. Then when you have collected enough, you can roll a fish in the dried up eyesnot you have collected, and voila, you have a crumbed fish. Tasty, efficient, but most importantly, economical. Plus you’re recycling.

At work today, I ventured into the staff lunch room. And then wished I hadn’t. I remembered why I’d been staying away from the place. Every day at lunch time, a certain subculture of the staff at my work huddle together to try and work out the daily general knowledge quiz in the Herald-Sun newspaper. There’s 10 questions. On average, with the power of their 6 minds put together, they get around 0 right. Their record is 3 right answers. It’s painful to watch. I can hear their brains clicking.

Ms Superiority at my work (see yesterday’s entry) got a new desk today. It’s a very big desk. It looks like it’s off the Starship Enterprise, and whenever I sit at her desk to talk with her, I get this unnverving feeling. I think it’s got something to do with the way the desk is positioned, and the type of desk it is - it makes me feel like I’m being interviewed on a tonight live show. Maybe that’s why I always seem to make incredibly crap jokes while I’m at her desk.

You know how sometimes you jump into conversations, then the other people say something incredibly bizarre, and you wonder what the hell they could have been talking about to say something like that. Today on the train I thought I heard two women arguing about what colour they were going to dye their pubes, but maybe I mis heard them.

My classic “whatthefuck?” moment of eavesdropping in on a conversation happened last year on a bus. (There’s no end of lunatics on public transport buses, I find). I had just gotten down in my seat, and one of the guys behind me says, “Well, I don’t think you’re truly a pervert until you pierce your scrotum with a soldering iron and it just feels soooooo good.”

I found out something interesting today. There are heaps of recycling bins in my workplace, and I make extensive use of these. I even walk the extra distance away from my desk so I can be environmentally friendly, and throw my paper in the recycle bin.

I found out something I’m not supposed to know today. The recycle bins actually don’t get recycled. It’s just to make the business look good. How wacked is that? And to think that in the 3 months I’ve worked there, I’ve probably spent an average of about 3 minutes per day walking to the bin. So.. (hang on… hmm).. I’ve wasted about an hour of my life. I guess I’ll have to wait for daylight savings to come around again before I can claim that wasted hour back.

Because I had Monday off, I had the opportunity to watch some fantastic bad television. I always like watching kid’s game shows, because the hosts are always so crap. I think hosting a kid’s tv game show must be the jobs they give to the people who flunked in TV school. I watched something called Wipeout on Channel 7. The host was just ridiculous. There’s such in depth conversation on these shows..

Dickhead guy hosting the show: And here we have Damien. Hi Damien.
Kid: Uhh. Hi.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: So Damien. What do you like to do.
Kid: I dunno.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: Uhhh, yes you do. What were we talking about backstage just before?
Kid: Umm. Oh, I like basketball.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: GREEEEEAAAAT!!! (flailing arms everywhere) WOW! SO I bet you want to be a pro basketballer when you grow up!!!
Kid: Um. I guess so.
Dickhead guy hosting the show: GREEAAAAAAT!!! Well, let’s play WIPE OUT!! (cue hyperactive music and shots of sugar-fuelled kiddies in the audience)

It’s almost worth watching this show just trying to guess how many centimetres deep the makeup on the host’s face goes. It’s a shocker.

There’s someone at my work who always makes everyone feel like they’re stupid (there’s always one wherever you work). I think I’ve found the key to my revenge today, though. You see, my desk is right near the stationary cupboard, and I’ve noticed the odd rate at which Pacers disappear at my work. (You know, those refillable pencil thingies). Today, I noticed this particular staff member excalim out loud, “Oh shit. My Pacer’s empty”, and then witnessed them throw the Pacer in the bin and trot off to the cupboard to get another one.

I find this quite amusing. This person doesn’t realise Pacers are refillable. I was going to mention the fact to her today, but I’d rather be heartless and vindictive and announce the fact to her when there’s more staff members around. Or maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I’ll just keep this little nuggety fact until I need it.

Well, my car is still dead, so me and my flatmate had to actually walk to the supermarket today. The 7 minutes almost killed me.

Have you ever noticed when you walk into a supermarket and go to grab one of those red baskets you put your groceries in, that the basket on the top of the pile always, amost without fail, has a piece of lettuce stuck to the bottom? This always happens! Of course, there’s always the aisle with the suspicicously sticky floor, that never seems to becoming un-sticky. Somehow, I don’t think I want to know exactly why the floor is always sticky in the first place.

Conversation I had today:

Stupid friend: Are you still fighting?
Me: Who with?
Stupid friend: That woman.
Me: What woman?
Stupid friend: The woman inside you, trying to get out. Hahhahahahahahha.

(I don’t know how some people manage to crawl out of the abortion bucket.) *cough* Did I say that?

For the very first time today, I had some of that Mountain Dew drink outside of it’s bottle. I poured it into a glass and immediately wished I hadn’t. You see, Mountain Dew isn’t a green drink (as the green bottle would lead us to think). The color is urine yellow. Now I know why they never used a clear bottle.

For some reason, I was watching a Japanese class on Open Learning on the ABC at 4.00am last night on TV. It took me around 15 minutes before I could snap out of the transfixingly bad acting that was used to demonstrate the language. (Well, it was either Open Learning, or the Cyclone Rider infomercial - pity my favourite infomercial, the Space Bag wasn’t on that particular night).

Right now my car is sitting in my driveway. I’m waiting for it to die.

You see, for some reason, the parking lights won’t turn off. The RACV won’t come out and fix it unless the car won’t start. So I’m being forced to wait until my car’s battery is drained so much that the car won’t start. Well.. I could get the RACV to come out while I can still start the car, but I’d have to pay for it.

I’m still in shock over the fact that I’m going to have to actually walk to the supermarket for a few days. Eeeek - exercise! (It’s a well known fact amongst my friends that I have a quite physically violent reaction to the words “Aerobics Oz Style”).

It’s Easter. Hence, the acquisition of chocolate eggs, whether you like it or not.

Of course, we all know that Easter chocolate tastes ‘different’. But have you noticed how there’s always somebody that you know that won’t eat their eggs for months on end? Will just leave them there? Someone was talking about this on the radio today and I couldn’t agree more.

There’s always someone. You know, somewhere in August they start going “Huh, I’ve still got some Easter eggs left and you don’t.” The thought that they might actually have gone off doesn’t enter their minds, I guess.

Most Amusing Home Brand Product of the Week #1: Imitation Raspberry Flavour Cordial. (It exists!)

Lately a girl at my work has been gibbering excitedly about the coming of the end of the world. She apparently quite thoroughly believes in Nostradamus’ predictions, and alledgedly the world is going to end on the 29th of May or something. I think that’s a Saturday. (Wouldn’t it be apt if the world ended during Hey Hey It’s Saturday?) Does this supposed event of Armageddon cancel out my Satanic curse (see Sunday 21st March entry)? I guess so.

So here’s this girl, ranting and raving about how the world’s going to end, bla bla bla, trying to scare people. So I ask her “Will you spend every single cent of money you have on your “last day” on earth?” She says ‘Ummm…. no.’ I say, will you do something outrageous that you’ve always wanted to do? Will you run around the street naked? Will you tell your boss you bet he has a really small penis? Will you watch Totally Full Frontal and actually tell someone? Of course, she says ‘No.’ So I’m gonna have a right laugh at her on the first of June. I’m quite looking foward to it, in fact. And I win in both instances, because if we all live I get to laugh at her, and if we all die, well, she wouldn’t have known that we’d all died because it’d be over so quickly anyway.

Last night my work had a function thing with some big knobs in management. It was fairly boring, but coz it ended so late they paid for me to get a cab home. Which would have been absolutely fine, except I had possibly the worst ever taxi driver in Melbourne. His only solitary words of conversation were “I like green things.” (?!) And whenever I directed him somewhere, eg, turn left here please, he’d just pull over and say ‘That’ll be (insert figure of money here) tankyoo’. Even when I started to try and generate some conversation he pulled over! We pulled over 4 times, I kid you not.

Then I got home and went straight to bed. After a while I heard my flatmate making some odd pounding sounds in the living room, which drew my suspicions. I found him kicking furniture, because he’s been watching a whole series of Manga (Japanese cartoons) at the moment, and he thought that he had hired video number 24 in a 24 part series, and thought he’d finally see the end. Then he found out after he’d watched it, that it was actually a 25 part series. He went so far as to proclaim he was going to walk the 30 minutes to the video shop to hire the next episode, but I talked sense into him.

I made a rare trip to McDonalds today, why, I don’t even know. I only went in to get a choc chip muffin. I had my heart set on a choc chip muffin. So I order a choc chip muffin, and the dweeb gives me a blueberry muffin. Which I only find out after I’ve walked 5 minutes away from the stupid place. So back I go, and ask to swap it for a choc chip one please. Back I trot down the road, and what do you know. I’ve got another blueberry muffin. I go back AGAIN, ask for a CHOC CHIP MUFFIN THANK YOU VERY MUCH (politely though very gritted teeth), get another one given to me, and I check it on the spot. What do you think I had? A fucking blue berry muffin. So I asked for my McFucking McMoney McBack. And I got it McBack.

Here’s a quote from a book I’m reading right now, ‘Kindling Does For Firewood’. Quite funny, and the bloke in it thinks like I do. Eg: “It’s fucked. It’s like.. you know, kind of like, you think about colours, and you think blue, red, yellow, green. And then you think, ‘Who the fuck are you green? You’re just yellow and blue. Piss off back to the little league with purple and orange.’ But it is up on those colours. It’s a major colour and yet it’s not”. I love that stupid stuff. Directly following the colours spiel is: “It’s like rectangles. You think square, circle, rectangle, triangle. And then you think “Hey rectangle. You fucking top quality shape wannabe. Piss off.”

If you find that funny, you’ve got a sense of humour like mine. If not, then you’re probably a normal functioning member of society.