Hot Andrew has been having a bad week and is tired and emotional, not the Hollywood 'tired and emotional' which means pissed to the gills and in need of urgent rehab.
My day, sung to the tune of that annoying women's magazine full of crap was tiring and emotional and I could have done with being pissed to the gills.
I walk to the pharmacy, 2kms, to put in Ma's morphine script, pay bills, send parcels, pick up medication. Did I mention that it was a cold wind this morning so that I wrap a scarf around me and the bags? I just miss two buses going to Southland in opposite directions so I wait and it rained on me. In the middle of summer, I get rained on.
More walking around Southland, more shopping, more carrying bags. More, much more swearing at stupid trolley. Half price homeyped shoes aren't in my size but never mind David Jones has one Estee Lauder Christmas special box left and my credit card and I grab it.
By the time I stagger to the taxi rank, it's hot and sunny and not a cloud in sight. Arrive at Ma's and a good samaritan has brought in the garbage bins but because of BrickOutHouse moving a rust bucket ute into the carport, they're right in the drive and I have to get the groceries around them. I show my adultness by throwing the recycle bin flat on the ground behind the rust bucket.
Various annoyances by all members of my family have me shouting, throwing and blood pressuring and in tears by the time I came home. I can't say anything because once the words are out, they can never be taken back and I can kill with words.
I didn't get any chocolate.
There's birdshit on my newly washed doona.
Don't be nice to me, I'm in the kill zone.
18 comments:
Good, I'm ready to kill, too.
Bargains are man's highest achievement.
-Robert.
The Singing Toilet Attendant.
Shop! Shop! Shop!
Buy the fucking lot!
Spend! Spend! Spend!
Mother's round the bend!
Jolly! Jolly! Jolly!
Fill that fucking trolly!
A poet is never timid. He is reckless, offering flowers to a feminist. He is defiant, watching his dog shit in latte street. He is daredevil, tossing carrot cake at a passing tram. In short, a poet will not serve. He is disobedient, that's all.
And disobedience can make your life.
-Robert.
Newport-upon-Yarra.
Ah, geez, I wish I was there. I'd help. I'm quite good at pushing trolleys, moving bins and rewashing doonas. I'd even make you a cup of tea.
River, never mind the tea. I have discovered a new brew, Bundaberg's lime, lemon and bitters (diet) which goes sooooo well with a wee drop of gin.
Rh, I thought the Christmas elves had stolen you away. A singing toilet attendant, a brilliant career move from your usual street corner warblings. Will we sense your presence at Bendigo?
Jayne, the hubby is on the burial list again? I'll start smashing crockery for the memorial mosaic.
Oh sweetheart I wish I only wish I could sort this all out for you...sorry can't
I hope you find something to kill that doesn't land you in jail.
"I hope you find something to kill that doesn't land you in jail."
hazelblackberry, she's promised to kill me on many occasions and your hope will come to pass, she won't end up in ail.
We're both going to plead insanity.
... or end up in 'jail' even.
You will sense my presence when I burst into song: The Indian Love Call:
Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo
When I'm calling you
Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo
And you answer Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo
Then I will know our love will be true
You'll belong to me, I'll belong to you-oooo.
I've changed it a bit so it doesn't seem so silly. Plus I'm getting too much echo from the urinals. Anyway while I'm up there I'll be checking whether they need a singing toilet attendant, there isn't much call for it in Melbourne.
-Robert. OAM.
Therese, it's just the usual 'life is changing' crisis. We've been joined together for three years when we probably would have gone in different directions long ago.
HB, The way to avoid that is to murder a block of chocolate but I'm trying to diet, it's really trying.
MiLord, I see insanity has already galloped up behind you.
I'm going for a lay down now (been busy today) but will be back to receive your adoration.
-Robert. MBE.
And remember, if you ain't failed you ain't tried.
The giggling foccacia. The lonely bruschetta.
Never eat anything you can't pronounce.
Robbert, I loved that film but not Rosalie, the other one with Jeanette McDonald and Nelson Eddy, Indian Love Call.
Golly, that was quick.
Yes, recorded by Slim Whitman.
Miss Brownie would enjoy it too I'm sure.
I've just seen it on youtube. Whitman don't look so Slim.
Which suburb do you live in? Close enough to meet up with our Kath. who's just moved there? Once she's settled of course.
Does R.H. have a blog? Can't seem to find it....
River, he does not blog, he is a professional commenter, singing toilet attendant and known latte hater.
Kath is on the other side of the city from me but close to Lord Sedgwick and other bloggers of note. She should stay away from MiLord, a bad influence on any pure woman.
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