Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Hard as Nails?

Why hello there, is this Nails from How are you today?

Pretty crap actually. I'm replying from work [it's a Saturday, it's quiet. I'm bored, and if you're my boss - ha ha I'm so joking]. I just can't say anything good about work - oh wait, yes I can - only three and a half hours to go. Two days off. Oh gods, my life sucks.

Here is what I know about you already, tell me if I'm totally wrongeded. You are quite a lovely young lady who can get crazy mean if beer is not provided to her instantly when she goes out on the town. You like a boy who is single and athletically trim.
You work in Reception possibly with another blogchick called BourbonBird. You write your own blog brilliantly and beautifully, and share all the emotions and feelings about a situation, completely open, but you don't actually go into what the situation is.
Is that close?

Lovely is debateable. I am presently working with someone who thinks I’m completely schiz [she’s a dick so who cares] and who would describe me in other terms had she the wit to do so. Otherwise I’m fabulous, no really.
I must be needing beer cause I’m getting crazy mean as I type. I’m actually not that fussy about my alcohol – depends on mood/cash flow/who’s buying, the usual – I will happily drink wines and high-grade vodka, shots [not tequila, evil evil shite], cocktails…Hmmm I suspect I might have a problem. Whatever it is I do like it to be poured out and waiting for me when I arrive – I have no patience.
Ah, boys, ‘athletically trim’ is a delightful euphemism that I am tempted to steal. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that I have a decided type – though, ironically, I’ve never had any success with said type as [naturally] they can score supermodels. I like tall, dark, geeky types, frequently skinny undernourished types [I’ve just analysed that and I really don’t like how my mind works]. Brains before beauty [or even instead of…], strong of personality – blah blah – that kind of thing. They have to be tall. And smart. Actually, that depends on what you plan to do to them – rather – with them. Tall though. I don’t like men that come up to my boobs or whose eye level is closer to boobs than say MY FACE. Very off-putting.
[You crammed in loads for me to answer I’m exhausted! I have so earned beer.]
Bourbs and I work for a pathology company as phone whores - okay maybe not whores but we sure spend a lot of time stroking egos and getting screwed and yelled at. Or maybe that’s just me – she only works weekends while I’m a full-time slave. Fortunately they can’t see us or some of those doctors wouldn’t flirt quite so much [well they might with Bourbs].
Are we talking about a particular situation or in general? I may have [heaven forbid] to read my own blog to see what you mean. I think I relate some of my feelings, some of the time – when writing there’s always the how much is fact and how much just sounds good thing going on. I can be [can we tell?] quite the drama queen – or so I’ve been told. I guess most of the time I’m more interested in my interpretation than the actual situation. That sounds horrific, doesn’t it? I also suppose that I’m cautious about who reads what I’ve written.

Actually, that was a bit hardcore to start with, do you have a favourite colour?

No. I can’t make up my mind on colours. Most of them a pretty good. [Only a bit hardcore?]

One thing I've been crazy interested in, is that you are totally open with your inner-most thoughts, yet, some people who read your blog are you friends that you hang out with. I've noticed that blogs that have friend-participation are usually pretty light and fun, and blogs
that do actually open up and are very much treated as an online journal tend to be anonymous. I don't think you fit into either category. When you type in a post, do you think about who might read it, or do you just write?

It’s not like my family is reading my blog. I’m very guarded with them, usually, and can be very guarded with my friends too. Not great and not a great way to be. People [true in all cases, for all people] often perceive me differently from how I see myself and [it’s taken me quite a while] I’ve started to think that this is not the best thing. I think I have a fairly good idea of who reads my blog that I know in person. I’ve only given out the address to a handful, if that, of people who know me in the flesh – so to speak. Those who have the address or I know read my blog stand at the extremes of people who have my character pretty well sorted and those who I think ought to know me better. I wonder if that’s a bit of both. It’s always to easy to think you know someone and then be totally surprised when they behave differently to how you expect. Very disappointing for some. Maybe that’s it – I’m sick of people thinking that they’ve got me boxed only to have them say crap like ‘oh that’s so you’ or ‘that’s not what I expected of you’. I do not have the most consistent character in the world. There are contradictions, many. People assume too much from looks [I look safe and stolid, therefore I am] [I look angry, therefore I am] [I look like a ‘teacher’ (what the fuck?) therefore I must have the right temperament…] and they do not like when you step out of the box assigned.
Of course, it could just be that I’m not light and fun…
I do think about who might read this and there have been occasions where I’ve reconsidered something I’ve wanted to say because of that but mostly, hell, it’s all just opinion and perspective and they are so subjective as to barely matter.

How many bloggers do you know? That you've hung out with?
Bourbonbird was the first person I've ever met and that was really only for a few mini-micro seconds in a haze of semi-drunkenness.

I know Bourbs from work and met quite a few bloggers at her birthday [Jerkface, Misha, Muffin, that short guy, that tall guy, that moustached guy – I’m so good with names – I must have walked past you but was too lazy to fight back through the crowds with Bourbs. I also have a nagging suspicion that Mark and I have probably walked past each other rather a lot]. I’ve also met Miss Wired without knowing she was Miss Wired or, indeed, ever having heard of Miss Wired. It was a party, she was drunk, I was drunk, we exchanged email. I’m not sure why. Bourbs knew her blog and we got to discussing blogs and then Bourbs nagged me until I set one up. Which is how I arrived [oh and I’d like to thank the academy]… So ends my personal blogger knowledge.

So chicka, give us a boy sit rep? Pretty please?

Huh? Boy I understand, sit I’m guessing is situation, rep….report? No boy, no sit, no rep. I am a sadarse. If you were asking anything else – try again in granny speak :p

Do you have a path in life that you are following, or are you just bouncing around like the rest of us?

All depends on who you ask. I was supposed to make my parent’s fortune and give them a positively wonderful life. Oops. If you ask my aunt I’m supposed to have a career by now [she’s horribly offended that I haven’t and I lack the drive or ambition of her own children], I don’t, I’ve no idea what I’m doing. I need cash though so I may be inspired to do something else – work wise and study wise. I don’t know what to study though.. So bouncing for now. Mostly I’m just falling over my own feet.

Do you reckon there is a 34% chance of you roadtripping to Melbourne for funness?

Sounds great. If you can find me a car and someone to drive it. I’ve never been to Melbourne.

One of the themes in reading your posts is your potential obsessive nature. Almost everyone I know has obsessions, but each deal with it totally differently. My closest chick friends are crazy obsessive, to the point of being ridiculuously predictable, other friends, it took me a while to find out their obsessions and even now I know, they are totaly subtle. How do you deal?

Potential? My last obsession moved to TUMUT, ostensibly for work [my arse]. I don’t deal, I give in and behave like a complete psychopath [and frequently an arsehole] and then I blame my parents for my being insane. I give in on the minor ones too, usually, if they last. If they’re too pathetic I can stop myself. Almost.

When do you write your blog? At work, at home? Bored, excited, drunk?

I don’t post [I comment though, so go figure] from work because I’m paranoid that I’ll get sacked. I blog when inspired [or not]. I don’t really have a plan for my blog so all kinds of crap goes in – that was a bit obvious right?

Thank you so much for this interview. I'm sure you can tell that I love your blog totally, it captivates and intrigues me and sometimes makes my brain hurt with thinkingness. I love it. Do you have any words to leave us with?

I’m too flattered [and buggered, this has taken me two hours] to offer any further commentary.

Whoa! Freakin....

Hey kids,

Well, I accidentally found myself a real job working real hours. Freaked me the hell out.
I got so used to working public servant hours that I forgot how the real world operates. I've also haven't been given e-mail or internet access at this new contract so I've actually being doing work all day long for 3 days in a row!!!! Whoa!!!
I was a bit worried that I had forgotten how to actually work properly. At my job in Sydney, I got so used to working for 8 seconds, then leaving a comment on someone's blog, then writing some e-mails, then working for 4 seconds, then checking the internet again.
I'm a bit exhausted having worked 3 full days, I think I'll go lie down....

P.S) I know someone has said this before, but why doesn't the blogger spell checker know the word 'blog'?

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The God of Willowdale....

Hi, is this the ever enigmatic and mysterious Jobe from How are you today?

Oh, wow, I'm pretty enigmatic today to tell you the truth. *looks up enigmatic in the dictionary to make sure it doesn't mean dickhead* Yea engimatic as HELL right now. And also shocked to be chosen for this illustrious honour--Australian of the year.

How many times have you won the Internationally Acclaimed Most Number of High Quality and Hilarious Posts in One Day?

None. The accademy (read: cunts) hates me for some reason. I'm guessing it's because I'm just so incredibly good that they worry that no one can come close to me/they'll have to kick all the old people out of the hall of fame to house me. Sort of like Tiger Woods before he started sucking. I'm a lot like Tiger Woods actually...

I never did solve the riddle of James, Bill, Sharron, Mary and Michael. Are they your fans? Can you give me another clue? Does 'The God of Willowdale' also fit into this riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a blogosphere?

Ahhh good ol Willowdale. This is indeed a hard-hitting interview (it's only as hard as you make it, LOL!) because this was a secret I was going to take to the grave with me (because no one asked before). Let me explain it for you (this'll be boring, ha):

Willowdale was a little experiment in creative writing on my part. Basically, All of those 5 characters were residents of the fictional suburb of WIllowdale. As time goes by they eventually have a lot of interactions (although none of them know each other) and the readers
see all the coincidences that happen. Lots of cool stuff was going to happen like Bill having an affair, James and Mary hooking up and all of them joining the same gym for various reasons. The God of Willowdale was me, the allpowerful creator.

It would have been great but no one read it so I stopped it. (you should probably ask more interesting questions from now on)

I've seen your excellent/okayish comments around the traps, which blog is your favourite?

Well I'm still yet to see anyone come close to the unparallelled hilarity of I'M ON YOUR COMPUTER ( apart from me and, to a certain extent, you (okay I'm lying to be nice). I don't use the term "comedic genius" very often, and this time
will be no exception.

I should also give shouts to Ladycrackerland (, the number one on my blog review charts, and No Coles Supermart for Oatley (, the source of much humour/examples of how not to protest against a supermarket being built in your neighbourhood.

Have you ever been pronounced clinically dead?

I've pretty much achieved everything in my short life (apart from that).

I've noticed that there per blogging session, each post seems as off the wall as the last, and there is no congruency with each other, but after you read for a while, a lot of posts link with other posts from other days, making a massive complex web of posts. What is your favourite shape?

Ooooo, damn, you almost stumbled upon my secret but didn't go through with it.

My favourite shape is love/happiness.

Are you totally bummed or secretly relieved that we never bumped into each other in Sydney?

Pretty bummed. I would have preferred that this interview was conducted in a quiet neighbourhood cafe or big office building. People would think we were important, almost on the level of someone like Derryn Hinch or that guy who was in the final 12 of the first season
of Australian Idol.

Although I'm not surprised we didn't bump into each other, since I never leave the house. I'm too busy creating amazement 23 hours a day, 6 days a week.

Who are you?

You should have put this question first, you really messed up the flow of your interview. By putting it here you make me think I stumbled into the wrong interview and you just humoured me with a few questions to start off, hoping I'd go away.

Do you like stuff?

Stuff? Like... drugs? Why are you talking like this all of a sudden?
Is this interview just a cover for something else?

*looks under table*

We're cool man, we're cool.

Thank you so much for this interview, it is definitely quite a good one. Do you have any wise words to leave us with?

Haha, yes, lots! Such as the following:

- Wise
- Intelligent
- Butterfly/Papillon
- Haircut
- Your prescription will be ready in 20 days
- Stylish

Party last Satdee night

Satdee mate, satdee night.

So, we had this little party on Saturday night. It was an excuse, nothing more, but the official point of the party was to welcome me back into town. Cara and I set the place up brilliantly, the lighting was freakin awesome but there was a crazy amount of prep beforehand, we were totally exausted before anything started.

We were ready pretty much on time.
An hour later, no one has rocked up.
We had enough food and alcohol to beat the army.
Cara and I look at each other, at least we won't be hungry for a while....

The doorbell rings, and I always try not to appear excited.
The two little groups appear and make polite small talk in the kitchen.
You know how some small groups are stupid fun, and others are slightly painful. There were the latter. Lovely but are there to be entertained rather than there to bring the funness.
I make and invent cocktails as much for something to do as to get the party started.

Then the house just freakin explodes.
There were so many goddam people! It was amazing.
I reckon only half of the people I invited rocked up, but there were stacks of peeps I didn't really know. What I realised by the end, was that there were 3 significant groups of people, the people that didn't rock up didn't fit into those groups, but of those 3 groups, everyone in them was in the house. Stupid Fun Crazy Sexy Cool!

Anyway, I don't remember anything else.

'Not a pimp party.'


I am like, a computer guru.
I am totally, like, a contractor.

This means that instead of getting a job, I take up a contract to do a particular job. I've had one for 2 and a half years and I've had one for 3 months and I've had a couple of ranges in between. Even though I've been contracting for a while, I'm still new to the whole contract-negotiation thing.

Contracting is cool, you get paid more, but you don't get leave or super paid and you do jobs, then have a break, then do jobs again.

It's been a bit quiet. Lots of people have said there is a bit of work in my field of pretend-expertise, but no one has really come up with the goods. In the two weeks I've had off, there has been a number of close calls. These have fallen through because I generally work for very big companies who don't really know what they want. That's cool.

Anyway, yesterday I received something like 15 or 16 calls.
It was craziness.
I very nearly signed up for a 25 day contract when one of my pimps don't me to hold off at the last second. This means I had to totally avoid my phone and everyone who thought they had a signed deal was trying to get a hold of me.
I felt totally unprofessional avoiding everyone. I'm supposed to be having an interview today.

I was a bit nervous about facing my e-mail and my phone today.
That's the thing, everything plays on your emotions, especially recruiters, it all seems pressureful, then a new day comes along and everyone has moved onto someone else.
Today is someone else's day to feel the heat, but because the market is so small, it'll be my day again next week sometime.

It's all very interesting, but it is also very childish, lots of people playing games with their own agendas. I want a contract that pays good and on time. The guy who I pay to do my payroll and taxes and stuff, he wants me working, but he also has favourite companies over others. The recruiters don't care who does what, they just want the cash for the deal. They also want to skim money off the top so they'll try and beat your rate down. The company just wants to get some work done.

A lot of contractors have houses and morgages and whatever. So when they are out of work for a few days they start to get nervous. The recruiters play on that.
The most important thing I'm learning is to stay cool, because there is always something else just around the corner.

Everything always works out.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

This one time....

This story doesn't have a moral, or a point, or really anything about it, it's just a bunch of stuff that happened.

There was this one time, when I lived on a small street that could only fit one car down it if there were cars parked on either side. Once, when I was unlocking my car door, some dude flew past me and scraped the car coming the other way. The guy who had been hit parked his car, asked me to hang around and ran over to the dude who had to stopped at a stop sign.

The guy came back, looking all worried. He said the dude reeked of alcohol, wasn't making any sense, was totally menacing and that he wasn't able to get his license number plate details. I was able to give him that and gave him my number as a witness.

This guy called a few times and I sent an e-mail to his insurance company. He had reported the accident straight away and the Police found the dude still drunk and way drugged up. They charged him and then later the dude committed suicide.

The guy offered to buy me a beer as thanks, and picked me up and took me to a little lounge. We hung out, he seemed pretty cool. He was entirely too good looking, one of those dudes who should be only TV or something surrounded by models 24/7. We bumped into some friends of his, and we all totally laughed it up. When he went off to break the seal, his mates kept talking about how awesome he is. Some time into that conversation they realised that I wasn't gay and then I realised that everyone else was. I've had a stack of very close and very gay friends forever, but everyone there was so totally subtle.

Afterwards, I was freakin starving but somehow 'grabbing a bite' became 'him taking me out to dinner'. That was cool, I've never had anyone pay for me before. We chatted for ages, clearly both excellent talkers. He took me back home and got real nervous. I did some mighty fine thanking and bailed.

This guy then called me like, 4 times a day. Even after I explained that even though I'm an excellent talker, a way groover dancer and am neat, thin and single (this was before the chick), I'm not actually gay, he still called a few times a day. Just wanted to be friends, just wanted to hang out. It was sweet, but it very quickly got obsessive. Eventually I had to break up with him.

I still find it weird, that someone very good looking by society's standards got so funked so quickly, people really do only want what they can't have.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005


is the best invention of all time....... especially at 3.23pm on a Tuesday afternoon.

Re : Catch up

So kids, I know you've been a bit sad, a bit lonely, a bit wonderous without me constantly harassing you with comments. I've been making some new friends. They now live in my house.

Meet the Billy twins:

"Hi there, we are giving Adam far more floorspace by using the height of the room. Man this place was messy before we rocked in. We are totally looking after all the books in the joint, making space in the study. Me and me brother are a bit competitive though, I'm just lucky I can hold more crap than him"
"You can not you Swedish loser!!"
"Hey man, you're Swedish too you two book carrying, pre-firewood, easily put together jerk!"

And Jerker:

"YO!! I am the Desk for everybody!! Bow down to the excellence that is ME!!! Even a girl can put me together!! I come with shelves and everything!!! YO!!!!!"


"Um, hello, umn, hi. I kind of, um, attach to the big desk guy, and like, slide the keyboard out, and um, keep it safe and hidden when it's not being used. I think the lovely young lady wanted to use the desk, for um, music or something. I help with, um, that."

And Mikael:

"Yeah hi. I'm totally a set of drawers, sure I was the trickiest to like, assemble, but totally, I'm like useful 'n' that. Totally."

So, I can tell you are totally as excited to meet my new friends as me, and you way don't think unemployment has broken my brain at all. The thing is though, after meeting all my friends, I thought life would be totally grand, but even though they are hanging at my place, I've still got no freakin room for anything!! Damn.

Scariest post I've ever posted.

And do disappears any annonomousnessity.....

I give you,
the photographic adventures of my time in Sydney:

Click on the links on the right hand side of the bottom each page to continue. There is 5 pages.
It was created for my friends in Melbourne but I thought I'd share it with you lovely people too.