Up From The Dirty Grease Chambers

I saw a portly guy with an orange beard today. He looked like a computer programmer or maybe someone that worked in a call centre. A pretty judgmental judgment I know, but he had that look about him. He had 3/4pants and athletic sandals and one of those satchels that you can store a laptop full of torrented television shows and pictures of your girlfriend eating cheesecake and your two fat cats that you call 'your kids' and hump in front of.

Added to this he had a T shirt that proudly proclaimed I'M A BOMB TECHNICIAN IF YOU SEE ME RUNNING TRY AND KEEP UP. That wouldn't be very hard. I hardly felt that his plastic sandals, although 'athletic' in appearance, would get his puddingly frame anywhere too quickly. I mean, if there was a bomb, I kind of have the feeling he'd either have an asthma attack, collapse and plug up a doorway or he would run extremely fast for about ten metres and then collapse. He'd want to hope that the bomb didn't have much range or force in explosion. He'd be alright if the bomb was a cake because he was chubby and he would have probably have eaten if it was a cake because he was chubby.

His phone rang and he said "Hello my love"
"Meet me at the busport in 5 minutes"
"I can't tell you"
"It will all be a lot clearer in 5 minutes"
"Go and buy yourself some licorice"
"I know you like some licorice"
"Have a wander around the shops. Buy some comfort food"
"Get yourself some licorice"
"It will all become clearer when I get there"
"YES! I am up to SOMETHING!"
"Go get yourself some licorice".

I wondered to myself "What ever can he be up to?" I guessed that it would have something to do with his girlfriend, actually it could have been a boyfriend, eating up a whole pile of licorice and then getting a surprise. Perhaps he was picking up a ring from the shopping centre and then he'd ask her to be his forever and then go and get some running shoes from Footlocker. Or maybe he was going to buy her something. She'd already had licorice - what goes with licorice? Pork!

Perhaps they'd buy two big pale raw pork sausages from the butcher and run as quickly as possible (well stroll) to the undercover carpark and suck the guts out of them and say "We're in TrueBlood, we're in TrueBlood" and then have rough vampire sex all over the bonnet of a P plater's Hyundai.

Or maybe he was going to surprise her by showing her his new haircut. He'd take off his hat and point to his hair and say "What to do you think? What do you think? I said make it like Wesley Snipes but she said I didn't have the right type of hair so I got a football haircut. Touch it! Touch it! Pretty bloody spiffy!!" and then he'd shuffle from one sandal to the other while his girlfriend an her thick fingers through his new do.

I'm not sure what he was going to do but I wanted to find out. So I followed him. Well, I mean I got off the bus and went home. I'm not sure what kind of person listens to these conversations. But I mean he was talking loudly and I was behind him and he did say 'licorice' about 6 times.

Waste

It's recently been curbside waste collection in my suburb. All along the streets were piles of crap that people were throwing out. I was amazed at how many mattresses were lying dead and gutted on front lawns. Some of them were so old and abused It seemed humanly impossible that someone would ever have slept on them. The large number outside a couple of houses obviously advertised that they were backyard brothels. In fact I'm sure there would have to be at least seven within walking distance. These mattresses looked like they'd had numerous tax free sins performed around the clock upon their sheetless plains. I will have to move. I don't know if I can sleep easy knowing that my neighbours are running handjob parlours.

The best thing about waste collection is watching tarago vans full of pony tailed youths cruise the street looking for outdated computers and walking machines. Oh and the chubby professionals with trailers full of heaters with their chords cut off and assorted seat less bicycles.

Do you know you can get a KFC loyalty card? You can! I just saw it on TV. Who the hell would want that?
"Hey baby I got me one of them KFC credit cards. I'm gonna buy us some of them zinger cakes! Then we're going to have sex. That's my plan. I got plastic monies".

This was a while ago but it just occurred to me again

My dog humped my next door neighbours' kid's leg. Yeah he did.

The dad asked if his kids could come over and play with the dog as they weren't allowed to have a dog at the house they are renting. (We're not allowed to have a dig either but my girlfriend said we needed one so we got one)

The kids came over to see Louie. Kevin (who I call Junior because I figure this is a Philipino tradtion*) came outside and his sister Melissa stayed inside. Her dad told me she had "asthma of the skin".

Louie saw him. He then walked to Junior (American spelling because he has an American accent). Then he grabbed his leg between his two beagle paws and humped him. The kid didn't know what to do. I pulled the dog off (HAHAHAHAH SEE WHAT I DID THERE?!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! OH GOD!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!)

That's the end.






About, oh let's say 4 months later, the Dad asked me about my dog.
"What's he do?" SLEEP AND EAT THE BUTTONS OFF MY SHIRT.

"What does he eat?" JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING. NO SERIOUSLY, THERE'S PLASTIC IN HIS STOOLS.

And then he asked me about de-sexing. I can't remember how he approached the subject but the question was asked. "Definitely no lead in that pencil" I said.

"But does he still get ..... urges?"

"Ummm... well he humps legs but it's more of a dominance thing." (Urges!!! This guy gives me enough things to laugh about for a few days. But seriously, he's one of the nicest guys. If only he knew how unsavoury I truly was- he'd probably give up on trying to make over the fence conversation).


* I only call the kid 'Junior' when I see him walking out the front. But not so he can hear it. Just "there's Junior". We knew this Philipino woman who was married to a crayfisherman and her brother was called Junior. I figure this is a tradition. Tenuous? Racialist? Yes, probably.

Bush fire moon

A girl fell asleep on the bus today. Like rolled her eyes back and zonked out with her mouth all open. The bus went around a corner and she slumped into the dude next to her. He was sort of polite and let her lean against him while feeling uncomfortable at the same time. She came to and realised she was leaning into a guy sitting on a bus. She jolted up and wiped the drool from her mouth. One time a guy, who looked like a cross between a deputy principal and an accountant, fell asleep next to me. He leant right into me and I tried to be all cool but it got a bit annoying. I gave him a little nudge, all hip and shoulder like, and he still didn't open his dumb eyes. I noticed that he had pink nail polish on and wondered how it got there.

Each day my bus drives past the burnt out remains of another bus. It caught on fire and basically burnt to death. When I see it I pretend I'm in Palestine. A girl in my primary school's mum's car caught on fire once. The de-mister on the back window heated up and then burnt the shit out of the back of her car. My best friend walked with her to the end of the oval and then moonied her. I thought it was the greatest thing ever. Our teacher gave him a lecture on sexual harassment. The teacher was a douche. My friend was rad.

Mozza and the best actual keywords

Have you ever watched youtube videos of Morrissey singing "there is a light that never goes out" and fast forwarded to the section where he takes his shirt off, throws it into the crowd, and walks off stage?

I did this a couple of times the other night.

He spends less time on stage shirtless these day. Like shirt comes off and bam he's gone. In the 80's vids he dances around with his eyes closed and his back to the crowd. I think he's embarrassed of his older frame. Something like that.

My belly swells when I eat too much. I like to imagine I'm a Pokemon called Garlax (garlic dumpling).

There's a kid in my class who can talk about Manga for seven hours if prodded with the right questions. He calls it 'mungah!' though. Which sounds cooler if you imagine him as a thai kid with a marine cut and not as a New Zealander, which he is. He talked a lot about Goku's wife the other day.

A guy showed him some porno on his mobile phone and he went crazy. He told us that he'd actually seen stuff like that before, actually he'd seen much better ones on the Internet that went for like 20 minutes not 30 seconds like this one, and that he actually knew all the good key words to type into search engines. I should of asked him for them. So far 'women with no clothes on' is bringing up the same hits.

Christmas in March

I met up with an old uni associate today. Unlike me, he decided to try his luck at honours. Which basically means avoiding looking for a job for at least another year. He told me his friend was getting married. Why would a twenty one year old get married?

The kid’s a Christian. Has to become an honest man. Turns out he’s been opening his presents before Christmas day. (ooh err)

Another local paper has run with shopping trolley theft. I feel pretty chuffed that I was able to ride the crest of this fast breaking story before my competitor the Fremantle Herald. The same paper that granted me an interview for a cadetship but cut the love before I was able to get a leg over ( the rungs of the ladder). Ha! I’ll bet they’re sorry now. I have a news barometer. Shopping trolleys= biggest bloody story of the year! And I managed to make comment before the Herald (or the too late to compete with eat.sleep paper) had even collected the views of pensioners and derelicts. Apparently trolley thieves will be facing fines. Joe Bloggs said he didn’t care because “he didn’t steal trolleys”. Jeez, nice work.

I would have suggested a little undercover reporting. You know a little field work. I would assume one of the two appearances of trolley thieves. A) Smacky. You know faded tracksuit pants, two litres of milk, thongs, Wrestling T shirt, thin straight hair. Or B) Forgetful pensioner. Two litres of long-life milk, dog food, trackies, cardi.

Then I’d go and talk to the smackies and forgetful pensioners.
Me: “Hey, you know of any hot trolleys. I’m talking the type that drive straight and would make an excellent mode of transport for my heavily pregnant girlfriend.”
Smacky/Pensioner: “I remember when you used to be able to buy a pack of smokes for 30 cents.”
Me: “Yes and we were allowed to use our sprinklers all day long. Now my garden is blasted deaded.”
Smack/Pensioner: “ Hey, your alright. Guys, he’s one of us”

I’d buy their trust with a knob of polony and some Fanta. Then I’d have the story. Simple. Journalism award? Make mine a double.