Monday, 15 October 2007

Where Are You?

12, 13, 14 and F**kin' 15 October - Friday, if i can remember back that far may have involved some HR dramas which i think i talked my way out without too much trouble (it really can take up a lot of the energy of a day) and felt obliged to calm myself with a sizeable quantity of beer with some fellows who seem from the past - was rather pleased to win a cool eight dollars playing the who wants to be a millionaire game despite using my two only two lifelines on the first two questions.  Rushed back to ready myself for a belated return to the RSL for trannies for what seemed to be a work function considering the company i was with.  even found myself face to face with the reprobate who created the spreadsheets that are making my life a living hell right now.  upstairs was karaoke.  there are many different ways to experience this type of recreation - there's the smoky (not so much anymore) coffin that could be sardine jammed with bad singers and cheap booze, then there's the sordid late running boozy wineo bars that have many remember with dread and embarassment the next morning and then there's the gay ones with an army of failed Idol contestants and show tune spouting queens who often can sing really, really well.  And there was me croaking out Primal Scream Rocks and not getting booed off stage.  Somehow recovered enough after minimal sleep to ride to Gordon (on the new route over the Cahill Expressway but this time with the last minute decision to ride the roadway of the Harbour Bridge for the first time which was surprisingly easy when all was said and done) - had to do manly tasks on top of the roof (with minimal safety equipment which i was rather surprised about) then back southward again.  First victory in chess or checkers for the first time in over a decade.  If i was actually any good at all then i might have had the humility to throw the games in light of the competition's experience but it happens so rarely that i'd take every victory i could get.  Made a playdough (sorry, Das) dragon and assisted in making gourmet items for consumption (i inserted a fair share of effort for whole proceedings, i think?) where there was later delicious consumptions with fine company (and little company) but it took everything out of me and i did the unthinkable.  Crashing out on a Saturday night in absolute physical exhaustion.  Vacated myself earlyish for the start of training (back in the cleats on Chevette now) and took the slow, stop-starting but relatively picturesque journey down towards Ikea and back.  Refueled with a burger, took the very long route back to the north side for commiserations and collapse, refueld again, seemed to put things back together but still in the haze of almost complete loss of active energy ...  This is the longest gap between a post since the days of battery saving, Third World desolation where i still managed to find a hotspot in the darkest parts of the world.  I really don't get Scoop - I never really liked Woody Allen and am still yet to see the great ones he's meant to have created - but this is just slow and strange and kind of boring but at least it's not one of Adam Sandler's fantasy worlds can be exceedingly bizarre at the best of times but i cannot bring myself past the nauseating quasi plot of a man falling in love with someone who can't make new memories. The memory screwed up plot cliche has been used far too many times and his version is advocating what is really sexual abuse and not a love story.  In reality his character has the moral equivalence of a man who falls in love with a woman in a coma.  More HR woes - a charity screening (that i pretty much abused i'm sorry to say) - i think my Excel skilz are still there, that's kind of reassuring.

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