Thursday, January 19, 2012

Dear Expert

I'm glad I don't write a 'Dear Abby' advice column because then even the birthday song becomes a request for advice:

'Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Dear Abby'
'Wait wait wait, seriously you’re going to throw one of those at me now? Give me a break for fucks sake, how dare you try to make me work in the middle of my birthday song!''
'No no, it’s nothing, it's just the song'
‘Oh it’s just the song, it’s just the song, now help me, right?
‘No, not at all’
'So why do you have to include ‘Dear Abby’? It's supposed to be my day off!'
'That’s just how it goes, I swear, everyone gets 'dear' and then their name’
‘So you're saying everyone is trying to take my job now, ‘Dear Steve’, ‘Dear Phillip’, ‘Dear Dramquilla’ and you're telling me this on my birthday, very classy, thank you, and I'll remember this every year too, because you told me during my birthday song, thanks a lot you cunt'
'Um Abby? Are you sure you're qualified to give 'advice' to people?'

No sir, not for me one little bit. I guess what I am really asking is this - is your name really ‘Expert’?

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Some very good advice

On how to….. Wait for the excitement….. Fix a fridge!

Cricket, for those who don't know, is an awesome game. In its best variety, known as ‘test cricket’, a match lasts for five days. Some of the awesome elements included in this sport during these five days are:
- Long periods where seemingly nothing happens
- Heavy drama that to many looks like people just standing around
- The daily tea break
- Ducks (seriously)
- A player position known as ‘silly mid off’ (also ‘silly mid on’!)
- Another known as ‘the night watchman’ (that sounds like a superhero!)

Don’t you just love it? Ha ha, I put a question mark as if you may not!

One way to put it is that if sex is a super fast-paced game that lasts for 90 odd minutes, then test cricket is like spending five days in bed with a beautiful new lover mixing up long periods of cuddling and staring into each others eyes with regular unplanned moments of passion. Plus cool helmets.

A less erotic (and therefore less awesome) way to describe cricket is that it’s just like baseball only with way different rules and tactics and with way cooler helmets (cricket ones have face masks!)

So you can imagine my frustration, anger and desire to rip heads off little girls dollies when yesterday I was lying in bed, alone, watching the cricket, smack bang during one of the mesmerizing long period of seemingly nothing happening, when abruptly my electricity went out! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

First thing first - locate the problem (some of you may have already guessed that it will end up being the fridge). I made a quick guess that it was probably the fridge, but only after I had made sure that no power points were overloaded, that nothing was on fire, that I had scratched my head until I had blood under my fingernails, and had looked around. Looking around of course being a euphemism for fifty times looking past your houseguest's chest who is wearing a see-through singlet and no bra, all the while pretending to be checking all the lights and appliances that are located behind her. And eventually making the discovery that her breasts are lovely and your other houseguest has actually checked the appliances, and god bless braless boobs in see-through singlets. That may in fact be the best sentence in the English language.

Note to self: write a book named ‘god bless braless boobs in see-though singlets’.

Having played around with the fuse box (note to self: next time don’t use a wet coat hanger) I came to the expert opinion that the problem was either the fridge or some other unknown problem. I had to pull the fridge out of its cupboard to confirm; horribly this required finding screwdriver.

If you're like me you have several tools in your house, consisting of a tool set given as a gift ten years ago that is always missing the exact parts you need for whatever you need to fix, and a screw driver you've had since stealing it from your dad 22 years ago to fix a skateboard.

I have a special 'tool draw' where I personally put the tools after every use, so my tool draw was full of plastic bags, light bulbs for lights I no longer own, and indistinguishable bits of moldy food scraps that I’ve been promising to clean out for years and will eventually do so the day I ultimately decide to sell the place, upon when I’ll think 'that's much better, I should have cleaned that 17 years ago'.

I found the toolbox in the spice cupboard and went to grab the screwdriver set. Last time I needed tools the much-needed wrench was missing from my toolbox but it was back today, laying uncomfortably in the spot the much needed screwdriver should have been. The other screwdriver was discovered after literally a five-hour search, conveniently in the cutlery draw under 12 forks.

It was finally time to unplug the fridge and it turns out (and this may surprise some of you) but it WAS the fridge that was the problem. It is now sitting on my balcony and I am hoping that it drying out may stop what ever was shorting out the electricity. It’s the best repair idea I can come up with.

The lessons are:
- I probably need a new fridge
- This cricket game is going along awesomely but
- I would actually prefer five days in bed with a new lover

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

For need

I'm feeling perfect
Like a horrible concoction of lies
My glass full of past mistakes
The tambourine in rhythm
Yet not my hand clapping
Where has all my effort gone
A deception of my long planned undoing
I need nourishment for my truth
A positivity revolution
Just jam
Sing in my alcohol taunting voice
Any distraction from reality please
And listen to the ruthless crunch of insanity
At least I'm not a hypocrite
Just another thing I hate myself for
As always
Forever
My own regrettable choice