Charter: "To Make Nandos Sexy...or sumpthink"

I'm probably way behind the times, but I just saw this advert for the first time last night. I can just picture the brain stem storming session that delivered it to our tellies...

Still-drunk Alec, from Adverts are Us, feeling the pressure to deliver to the clients sitting expectantly across from him, their slight frowns indicating they may have copped a hint of his sour-drunk-breath, reaches into his recent experiences to come up with:

"Picture this, a hot MILF stripper, with tits like woooaaaarrrr," he cups his hands appreciatively, "and the firmest little peach arse that I'd pay to kiss," he sways, as if overcome by recollection. "Er, anyway, she goes to work in, um, business suits, yeah business suits, ahhhh, and she has this happy family, right. BUT, (oh yeah, this is great), she has a peri peri addiction..."

Really is it just plain fucking stupid or what? And does anyone even eat Nandos?

Just hangin'

So, she that is mini-cyclone is sleeping, the wonder-boy is at kindy. I have done everything I need to do that requires the computer, but I'm still here, sipping coffee...and my parents will be here in about 3.5 hours, to stay overnight.

Not only have I not cleaned the guest bathroom, I have not cleaned anything, nor have I started preparations for a fabulous dinner (must do this to circumvent mother obtaining a hot chook), nor have I made their bed, put out towels or done any such visitor-related crap.

Eehh, they're my parents, they've both wiped my arse, I'm sure they can handle a lack of preparation.

Holey pants Batchick

I have a hole in my favourite jeans,
right on my arse,
left cheek.
It's a small hole, for now,
which mildly amuses me, because
my arse was once small too.

Will I patch it?
No.
Not in this decade.
I'm too old,
for patches.
The time is no longer right,
for patches.
It simply is not the time,
of the patch.



But, I do love those jeans.
So, I will wear them still,
in the comfort of my own home,
and in other places.

I foresee a source of temptation-
The Hole.
People will poke it,
and state the obvious,
"Callisto, you have a hole,
in your jeans!"
I do, I do,
and how void this moment
between us would have been
without The Hole to fill
this gaping, throbbing, space.

"Win Yourself A Cheap Tray"

Day Two Opinion: More affordable property, laid-back, friendly people, fuck-all traffic, fabulous, uncrowded, squeaky white-sand beaches that stretch for miles, peaceful, serene, quiet, very quiet. As the squeaking sand welcomingly caressed my feet, I avowed, "God, I love this place".

Day Six Opinion: Second-rate houses, country hicks, mad-idiot drivers, lonely, rip-filled beaches, and it's only so fucking quiet because there is fuck-all to do. No yum-cha, no opera, no great dining, no live music (except AC/DC tribute band, at the Rissole of the nearest big town), no clothes with style or interest, no facilities beyond the "Community Centre", nowhere to drink that does not have the tinkle and jingle of poker machines. Boring, boring, boring hicksville, "Let's go home a day early." And there you have it, another broken vow...

Jaded Meme

Thanks to the lovely Jaded Lotus for the prompt.

I was never really into mainstream, so as I perused the list of number 1's from 1988, my memories were along the lines of "That's crap, that's crap, that's crap!" and, "Oooh I hated that!" Still, as '88 was the first year of my life out of the nest, there were some stand-outs.


Need You Tonight - INXS: Anything from the Kick album reminded me of the last days I'd recently spent with my high-school friends getting pissed, and sun-burnt to hell, in Yamba, before we broke apart and went off to obscure and out-of-the-way universities (oh wait, that was just me, those with any sense just headed to Sydney).

Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley: Reminds me of how odd I used to think Rick Astley's voice was. I used to imagine his balls were the size of watermelons, and actually thought that I was hilarious to conjure such an image. It was a staple of the nightclubs (all two of them) in the town I was in. As I think back to that place in the space-time continuum, I can actually taste Bacardi and coke, which is tragic, I know.



Wishing Well - Terence Trent D'Arby: Wine and cheese afternoons in the front yard of my new best-friend's gay neighbour's house. Now I knew gay people, who were not in the closet, how grown up was I? (at this point you'll no doubt assume, and be correct, that I was from a very small coastal town). The wine was at best, bad, and the cheese was No Frills tasty, and the music was always Terence Trent D'Arby or Tracy Chapman. Oh, good times!

Sweet Child O' Mine Guns N' Roses: I heard this song...and I loved it, I hated myself on the spot. When I started to think Axl was cute, I hated myself even more. What the fuck was happening to me?

Red Red Wine - UB40: I hated this song. I only started listening to UB40, because I was truly, madly, deeply (for about 5 seconds) with a guy who liked them. But it started something, because I've seen them live 3 times, but I've come to my senses, finally.

So there you have it, please feel free to participate, or not.

The things you learn (or must stop being a bitch to strangers)

"NO, DARL, NO!" the virtual stranger asserted, just as I was about to pour the freshly boiled water into her instant coffee.
"Oh, sorry," I said, and I may have looked at her like she was a bit mental.
"I haven't added the milk yet, Darl," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Cripes, I'm soooo sorry, Lovey," the sarcasm escaped from me before I could self-regulate (NTS: must find my copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People, and actually read it).
"No worries Darl, it makes all the diff is all," she was still smiling, so I guess my sarcasm slid off her back, which is good, because I regreted it as soon as it issued from my mean mouth.

Anyway, over the last few days, when I've been too slack to bother with stove-top, real coffee, I've had a few 'instants', and I thought, well, may as well try it. And, can you believe that it took 30 plus years for me to discover the truth? Instant shitty coffee really does taste better, almost 'sorta-good' even, when you add the milk before the water.

"Thanks, Darl!"

Enlightened

My 4 year old kid just saw a photograph of the Dalai Lama and said, "Look at that baby-man, he looks happy, and nice."

Mr BigLove

At the park with my Littleloves, we played soccer, we ran, we had a swing, then we lay flat on our backs on the grass to admire the blue sky and wispy clouds. Mr Big Littlelove said, "This is nice."
"It is," I replied, "I love this park."
"What do you love about it Mummy?" he asked rolling onto his tummy.
"Well, I love that you can hear the waves crashing on the beach, and that you can see the blue horizon of the ocean. I love the pine trees along the beach front and the smell of their sticky sap. I love the green of the grass, the space to run, the clean air, the birds, the people that we meet, the play equipment, I love watching the people come and go. I love the smell of the ocean and the way that the salt spray seems to mute the colour of everything." I rolled onto my stomach and asked Mr Big Littlelove, "And what about you, what do you like about this park?"
"I like the way you talk about it Mummy, it sounds better than it is when you describe it."

Long road

I used to sit reflectionless, and watch the eel slither his way slowly around the swimming-hole of my childhood. By the cool clear pool, under the shade of a giant fig, I'd sit motionless, observing him for hours sometimes. There I would escape the reality of my teenage world. Some days, I'd stay until the daylight filtering through the leaves passed it's golden hour, and only the chill of early evening would shiver me out of my dream-state.

Of late, I've been eel-watching again, and so calming was the gentle undulating movement of his serpentine body, that I was easily able to give reality the slip, for a while.

But reality is an tenacious bastard, and here I sit, staring into his familiar eyes, as he holds my hand, and reassures me it will be OK. And it is good to see him again, it is always so good to feel his warm embrace. But despite his comfort and warmth, I know there will come a time, when I slip out of the room before he wakes, because I know I'm still afraid to commit to reality.