Actually it was 3 nice cold beers and I must do it more often since I won on the pokies instead of losing. It's better than LSD, a beer goes straight to my head and all those spinning wheels makes pretty whirly pictures and I can fall off my chair if I don't hang on.
I did have a good reason to be at the pub all afternoon. I intended to do the shopping at Southland but guess where all those kids who were at the show last week ended up today.
Millions of the noise machines in all directions. I came in through the theatre entrance to head for San Churro's and a large cake but they were in there, in Macca's, in the pasta bar, in the sushi bar and the wall of noise would have gladdened the heart of Phil Specter.
I stocked up on the essentials, credits on the phone, tranquilizers and a block of chocolate and my knee ran off its track. So I'm in the pharmacy also known as Robber Baron Central ($34!) bashing it back to its proper place and gave up on the idea of any shopping. They were downstairs at some cartoon concert, upstairs at a lego contest and finger painting on everywhere. The noise, OMG, the noise. One more shrill scream up the back of my neck from some little ferret who couldn't get it's own way and nobody would have had to watch "The Slap" on the ABC.
I'm home now, it's all quiet and I have to do it again tomorrow but I'm going very early and running fast. Then just to put myself in harm's way, I'm heading for the home with a load of goodies for Ma who informs me tonight that tomorrow is going to be another sewing bee. Like Hell, I will bandage every finger if they even try to hand me a needle. I've spent two weeks doing jewellery for the auxillary and pink ribbon day. I think I'm the only member of the auxillary now, the last lady resigned a year ago when she hit 95 and couldn't see her knitting needles move.
Anyway they'll all be tired because they went to Mornington on a bus today, had lunch in the pub, enjoyed the sunshine and the new driver was great, to the extent of driving them on to look at Sorrento because he had the time and they'd paid for his lunch. Nice bloke, didn't drive them far enough, they made it back.
18 comments:
Ah you had me at " One more shrill scream up the back of my neck from some little ferret who couldn't get it's own way and nobody would have had to watch "The Slap" on the ABC."
...nearly choked on my muesli!
I don't get it: some moll turns up at a bloke's birthday party and no one's bothered.
Is that really how these dorks behave?
Who knows?
And who cares?
Anyway, expect a root in every episode, or it wouldn't be Film Australia.
How long does this shit go on, how many weeks?
I might read the book.
With you all the way here. I find myself(ishly) wishing that there was no such thing as school holidays. Or that I could be temporarily deaf. And it brings out the old fart in me who whinges, 'we didn't have the money to go to shopping centres in our holidays....' And I would rather the old fart stays in her box.
ahhh! school holidays time again.
The little screamers are all over "my" supermarket too. Fighting with their parents, with each other, eating stuff before they get to the checkout so I have to try and scan the barcode off a sticky wrinkled wrapper....
Then they climb all over the dividing gates leaving the newly cleaned chrome all sticky....
the toddlers reach over and play with the eftpos pinpad, leaving that all sticky....
I should take my annual leave hours when the holidays are on!
Chances are the parents are as happy to get rid of them back to school as the rest of us are.
Phweeew: the sanctuary of the office/assembly line/ boning animals/scrubbing toilets etc.
Something's gone wrong here in what we are doing.
3 beers is definitely what you need to shop at Southland during the school hols. I steer well clear of the place, except for pre 9am on Saturday. Then I'm in an out lickety split! 2 more days and they're over (yay) but the traffic will get busier again (boo). Ah well, can't have it all.
Fen, it was much better on Friday, hardly a kid in sight. I blame the local paper for not arriving and giving me the heads up about all the activities. It's summer and the ice-creams you really have to watch.
Frances, I must have been a tyrant. The boys made a list before we left home and the slightest look of a tantrum or punch up between them meant something was crossed off the precious list. The theatres weren't there in those day which was a pity.
River, you poor dear thing, I never gave you a thought on the other side of the counter. Could you do something about little old lady day? I only look tall to somebody who's 3 foot tall and no, I can't reach the very top shelf without climbing into the trolley. I'm right with you on the sticky fingers thing though.
EC, are we right in to "The Old Fart" age already? You know where we start saying "In my day......" and I do say that now. Perhaps it's because a lot of parents are both working and holidays are the only time they're with each other 24/7. I feel sorry for the mother who finally snaps and yells "Shut UP" and everyone looks at her as though she's about to crank up an AK47.
Robbert, why are you watching it if you don't like it? It's been years since I went to a family neighbourhood BBQ but the horrible memories linger on. The drunken husbands, the bitching wives and the whinging fighting kids. That book could have been written about any of those afternoons.
Kath, is it our getting old hearing that makes the beasts sound worse or have they just perfected the getting attention pitch? Teenagers gabble but pre-teens squeal talk. There are worse things, being locked in a train with them for one.
I watched it because I'm a masochist. And because the ABC said it was wonderful. So did its sycophants, usual crowd.
I knew it would be shit. David Williamson, latte bard, has been writing this pap for years "Oh but we must act civilised, we're professionals!".
Local ethnics distrust anglos through several generations. The aussie bloke in the film was called an idiot. And shown as one. I haven't read the book and films always lie but it seems about right from an ethnic author. And from latte film makers, viewing the entire aussie working class as idiots.
But what would you know anyway, defending everything from sex deviants to freddo frogs.
Wake up to yourself, there's still time.
LMFAO
Missed you again at Chez Southland, will stand on each level and holler for you to find moi *snort*
Yes, I'll be the fat slapper smacking the idjits with the white stick and OMG I was almost doing The Slap at the GP's waiting room yesterday when some stupid mother let her two under-3 darlings squeal and scream on top pitch until several patients moved out into the carpark to escape the ear-piercing torture.
"One more shrill scream up the back of my neck from some little ferret who couldn't get it's own way and nobody would have had to watch "The Slap" on the ABC."
fabulous.
I didn't watch it anyhow. or read the book. cannot pronounce Tsiolkas either.
hey Kath - you're eating muesli in the country that invented it.
hilarious. X X
My dear Robbert, I also defend you, so does that make you a sexual deviant or a Freddo?
Jayne, always look up at the little coffee place outside David Jones, the banquettes are soft and you get to people watch. I'm the one slouched against the wooden support with my head in the Earl Grey tea.
Annie O, he's being interviewed on Compass tonight but don't tell Robbert, because not only is he an author, but a wog and gay (his words).
What. Are you saying Freddo Frog is a homo?
YOU are a Homo!
Sue me!!!
-ROBBBERRRRT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Transgender and Puppetry Collective.
River the Taciturn has a posting for you on backyard dunnies. Have a look. Your own backyard dunny posting is the best blog writing I've seen yet. Clever.
In my twenties I had a room in StKilda, the place stank: plonkos, prostitutes, pissed mattresses. I was getting casual work at Spencer Street rail yards, unloading wool bales. We hopefuls had to stand in a line outside the hirer's little wooden hut, he'd be on the phone noting down labour needed that day. Every so often he'd toddle out and there'd be about twenty of us standing there, some ruined by drink. The ones less on the verge of collapse got hired. "Right," he'd say, and point at us: "You, you, you...."
I was getting hired but not always, sometimes I didn't even go. I only worried about enough for the rent anyway and a feed at wog Theos. Then along Fitzroy Street one afternoon I saw The Collected Letters, Essays [etc] of George Orwell in a bookshop window. There were four volumes, all in their own little cardboard case.
I'd already read 1984 and Animal Farm, and thought Mad George's letters, etc would be really nice company. I just had to have the thing. Over the next few days I got anxious, checking to see it was still there, I'd have knocked it off if there was a chance. Then finally I bought it, with barely enough left over for the rent; I couldn't get a loan, plonkos in the place wouldn't lend me anything and the prostitutes never had money.
Two days later I stole a woman's shopping from her car in Prahran carpark. I remember standing there a long time, waiting, then I struck.
This all seems stupid now, I really don't have a a plea, or excuse. Call it market forces.
A hard choice Robbert, food for the mind or food for the body and people would say stealing is stealing but at least you didn't bash her head in for $50 to buy drugs as they do these days.
A minor blip that stayed in your mind while Company executives thieve money from people in billions.
A case of let those without guilt throw the first stone, we've all pinched something, large or small, in our lives.
Love the connotations of that word "ferret" there are some very ferrety parents about these days as well - barely human
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