Some people leave footprints on our heart. Cats leave fur on our sweaters. Dogs leave drool on our shoes. Families will crap on our doorstep. So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Hello again, dear friends (anyone left)
I have been a bit off the planet for the past couple of weeks. I really needed to be sick, in a deck chair surrounded by servants and watching the water. I'm sure I would have recovered much quicker.
I have done so much running around for mother since the new people took over the Home that I finally fell in a heap. Real fun trying to sort out 3 different types of pain and treat each one. I was worried about one thing. Sister used to tell me about the ward cat, he always slept on the bed of the next to depart, never leaving until the spirit did. So the Ice Bear slept with me for 3 days, always with one paw on my arm then on the 4th, he went back to sleeping on my chair. Spooky.
So today I ran about for myself. I've been saving for a new toilet was half way there before I went to the pokies on Saturday as one does after being locked up for two weeks and only a visit to mother to break the sick monotony. I talked to the lady beside me after she had a nice win and crap to her for telling me she'd just won 2 grand on a machine downstairs but my minor win was just as good for me. On the way to cash out, I put $20 in a shiny new machine and bells and whistles dinged as I won a jackpot. I nearly banged the collect button through the machine, I didn't want temptation because I'd just won a brand new toilet. (I really hoped I didn't yell that out loud) I was out of there in a flash and counting what I had saved at home. This is just not your ordinary toilet, it's 48cm high for people with long legs or crapola knees and it better be worth the $745.00. Now I just have to save the money for the plumber although he agreed that I should get the essential first and we'd work out the rest later. I did take a photo with me to make sure I was getting the right fitting and how embarrassment, standing in that shiny white spotless showroom with a photo showing up the dust and dead spiders under the S bend.
Kept going to Southland and my sister rings and my mobile drops dead. I mean, it's only 12 years old but it wasn't keeping the charge longer than 2 or 3 hours which was all I needed when I was out, for the Home in case mother did decide to ride the stairway. What a nightmare to get a new one. I went for the Post Office not Optusnet because they don't like pre-paid customers. Last time they told me to go next door to Big W and anyway if they'd asked me the number I couldn't remember it because it was on the dead phone. I'm glad the PO wasn't busy, the girls hadn't seen anything so old and couldn't get it open to check the sim card. Apparently sim cards are smaller now but they weren't allowed to open the new box unless I bought it and the sim card wouldn't have my number. Guess what, the old one is on charge and I'm still unpacking the new one. What does it matter if it's a different number, I don't have anyone ring me, I'm unfriended on mobiles. I do need the numbers on the old phone. It just takes me time to adjust to anything new, the battery has to go in then the sim card then call to activate then put money in etc etc. And it's a slide phone, looks like I'll be taking the instructions around with me for a while. Why do they make things so difficult, like the computer, I was very satisfied with XP so why didn't they give us non-nerds the option of staying with XP and letting the tech nerds go to Windows 10. I gave Windows 10 3 days trial and then wiped it. I have a desktop, no ipad, tablet, iphone, laptop, or whatever the Hub is. I want my XP back.
And Reece Plumbing wanted $55 to deliver a toilet approx 3kms after what I just paid. They should have been overjoyed to carry it here on their backs.
I feel better, I'm eating ice-cream again but can't look chocolate in the face.
Or immigration minister Dutton, what a steaming pile of merde.
But Miss O'Dyne sent me a postcard of Port Fairy, that made me happy.
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Well, I for one am glad that the cat wasn't foretelling anything much!
I need a new toilet, mine doesn't flush nicely!!!
You had me running to measure the height of my toilet, 41cm. Doesn't seem like an extra 7cm would make much difference, but you're the tall one, so I'll take your word for it.
I miss XP too, but I got used to Windows 7 and now I'm used to Windows 10, progress isn't all that bad I guess.
I like IceBear sleeping with a paw on your arm, I like to believe he was looking after you.
and what do you mean "any one left" we're all still here, waiting for you.
A post card from Miss O'Dyne? Ours must still be in the post. Our lavvies lovey are 38cm. I think I would like 48 centimetres toilet height but I am more concerned about my bits getting wet if the seat and water level difference is small. Yes, we have gone from small cards, to mini, to micro to even smaller. The next sized SIM will be called symbol.
Flash Al was minister for immigration and told lies. Dutton has told the truth.
I don't know why, it never gets you anywhere.
You have just explained why Jazz joined me when I retired back to bed yesterday.
Hooray for a new and taller toilet. My legs object to doing an origama fold to get to the ground. And object even more to getting up again.
Fenstar, whatever you do, don't look in the sistern. I did once and there are things growing in there. Have you adjusted the water tap for low and high flush, not that I know much about that but the nephew did it when he put in the new cistern. Did you know they make rimless ones now? No scrapping with a stupid brush to get the grunge from under the rim, another ghastly revelation of what lives there.
River, I bypassed Windows 7 altogether and still haven't figured out Windows 8 but the Cloud did give me back my photos. I don't understand Cloud either. You're right about the cat, he was watching his kibble container dribble down to only 4, very worrisome for a Bear of a large empty stomach.
Andrew, you mean you have no bidet at the HighRise?
I charged up the old phone because it's mother visit day and I haven't got time to be on the phone for hours changing things and I still have $26 credit. It seemed a good buy for me, $69, which is mostly emergency use.
Robbert, Dutton says the illiterates will take all our jobs, WHAT JOBS? Every newscast I saw last night had people moaning because they'd all be on the dole and taking our money, that's how you cause violence and win an election. Besides I don't like his face, reminds me of spotted dick pudding.
EC, rule no.1 of knee replacements, never have the bum lower than the knees, it hurts getting up although my sister says it doesn't bother her. I have a hand rail on the wall, worth it's weight in gold. I will love not having to head in toilet to clean under the S-bend, something I've given up as non essential.
Capitalism adores a situation where unskilled workers clamour for low paid jobs. The more of them competing the better. It keeps those jobs low paid, and the conditions poor. I know what I'm talking about, as a young man I worked in factories where migrants had been farm animals in their own countries, and the worst factories were full of them. They wouldn't join unions, or go on strike.
It's easy to support migration, etc, when you're insulated from its effects, having never had to compete with these people for low paid jobs and cheap housing. Capitalism is cunning or it's nothing, using loudmouth dupes for propaganda. You know who I mean: latte bastards.
1. relax, it is not carved in stone that the crapper has to be microbe-free. nobody eats in the W.C. FFS. For the stats, mine is 44 Cms from the floortiles and I cannot raise myself [71 kgs, 5'6"] without grabbing the edge of the sink. Every time, I expect it to separate from the wall.
2. I am sorry for you, but SNAP! joyous that I am not the only one having all those SIM/phone/charge issues.
3. I hate Windows10 and it infested my laptop like a pestilence without me consciously doing a thing.
4. apologies to the Highrise. that postcard purchase was weeks ago and a miracle I finally got it into a postbox.
5.back to watching the wonderful RAKE with the added juice of Johnny 'Warts' Waters.
Annie O, can you imagine me getting one of those wall installations with no visible means of support?
The way I scream in sometimes, desperate and thump down, I can imagine the whole bloody wall falling on me.
The drool of my youth, John Waters, divine.
I did think/hope that Mick the plumber can do it all in one day or I'm going to have to fill the bath with kitty litter. I have no desire to go out to the lemon tree and moon the International Space Station.
None of this matters to me, I'm moving to a town where the people are ghosts, living and dead. Because these are inner city issues, fashion concerns, for bonehead materialists with powdered bums. They're ghosts themselves already. Certified dead. By history! Read Trove. Read history. It's all about money. No matter who rules you still get rooted.
In the 1890s ladies did the block, Swanston, Bourke, Elizabeth and Collins streets. Now they promenade in a straight line, Brunswick, Chapel street. Nothing changes, not really, there's more clothes shops, that's all. There's more products, mass production, credit, claims on future income to put a rope round your neck. Nothing changes, there'll always be the lower orders, cheap wages and cheap housing. It's all relocation, slums moved to the outer suburbs. Instant slums, authentic slums, complete with no greenery. My psychotic pal has bought a brand new dump on the fringe, the house takes up all the land, it's huge, eight rooms, with this lunatic inside. And they all look the same, these houses, twisty streets in a vast lego land. He was better off in the Thomas Embling- miles from creditville, wherein suckers say, "Isn't this nice," while going crazy.
Should I care? Support who you like, the millionaire lawyer or the ex governor's son in law, my class can expect nothing. We expect nothing, no change, more clothes shops, more cafes, that's all, for a thieving middle class that can afford it. History is not a progression, no doors slam shut, populations are bred to work, consume, and die in wars. We working class are born into struggle. Suckers, all of us.
Okay? Shut up.
Hi, my name is Robert. It occurs to me that I have disclosed much of my life in these comments - much of my personal history, on big thing blog. Good. Because it's no more than reading headstones in an overgrown cemetery. The past is decay. The past is a ghost town, full of dead ends, every wrong move you ever made. And shouting all the things you should have done for a ride up the main street. It's the things you should have done that really haunt you. I have finally realised that I have nothing in common with my latte-academic niece. I have realised there is no point in continuing with her. Latte is a separate way of life. It has its own catechism, full of shalt nots. It has a diet as well; muffins were the latest I heard. My psychotic pal has a diet, conducive to playing with his cock. Of those two diets, neither is less nutty than the other. If my niece - or any other apostle of the latte set - were to rule the world, it would be a terrifying place. Men would be pet animals, that's all. Well darlings I'm sorry at this state of affairs but I'm reminded that in the American Civil War brothers of the same family fought on opposite sides. Just being alive is war, we're in constant war with politicians and even a parking fine is a bullet between the eyes. War is the human condition. Well I'm glad of this breakthrough in thinking, a full realisation that this niece whom I visualise as a weird sort of blackbird is an utter waste of time. We're foreigners speaking a different language, why keep going?
Try having a Queen Bitch of the Universe born again Christian ex daughter in law if you want a complete mashup of hypocracy.
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