Thursday 11th July – Anthony Laffan’s “Comedy Hypnosis”
I worked. It was a rushed day. Cat and Niall are in Sydney.
Bronwen and I ate free Govinda’s pies for lunch in the park.
I drove from work to Bronwen’s work, and from there to the Albion Comedy Club and Restaurant, where we met Anne and Andy, and watched Anthony Laffan’s “Comedy Hypnosis”—which may or may not have involved actual hypnosis.
Friday 12th July – Relaxing
I got up and drove Bronwen to work, and dropped past work myself—though I only had ten minutes’ work to do.
After work I drove home again, and spent the rest of the day inside.
Bronwen and I watched the last episode of the second (2006) season of America’s “So You Think You Can Dance”, and ate pasta.
Saturday 13th July – A large, but not largest, trumpet ensemble
Bronwen and I headed into the city where we watched a (failed) attempt to form the largest trumpet ensemble ever at King George Square. They didn’t get enough people, but it was still quite a large trumpet ensemble—and looked quite impressive when they all raised their trumpets to the sun.
After the trumpeting, we won a small frozen coke and a small soft drink from Hungry Jack’s, and then went to the city Govinda’s for breakfast/lunch.
After lunch, we drove to Musgrave Park, where Bronwen went slacklining while I read my book. The park was trashed with rubbish everywhere—and I mean everywhere. Apparently there had been an aboriginal party on Friday night. By the time we left, it had been almost entirely cleaned up—a group of aboriginals did a great job picking it all up.
We headed to The Archive, where I had an iced water with a straw with some of the people from slacklining, before driving home for home-cooked pasta.
Sunday 14th July – The Ailan Kores, Bastille Day, & The Sunset Gathering
I got up fairly early, and Bronwen and I rushed to St Andrew’s Uniting Church, where we listened to the Ailan Kores—a choir of Torres Strait Islanders, who I imagine must have been freezing, as even I was feeling the cold.
After this we drove to Francy’s Patisserie in Rosalie for breakfast, then drove up to Bronwen’s parents’ place, and then to a Bastille Day celebration at Park Road (which was quite unexciting—a handful of stalls mostly advertising things which didn’t seem to have any connection to the French—I got a bag of lollies and a pen with a LED light in it), and then to The Sunset Gathering at Kangaroo Point (with fairies, circus pandas, and a smattering of fire-twirling, pois, hula-hooping, and head-standing and general all round fun) with some chips we’d bought from Rosalie, and then to Livewired Comedy at The Powerhouse (which sadly wasn’t as funny as usual—though the headline act was quite hilarious).
Bronwen and I met Maz at Halim’s and had curry for dinner, before driving home.
Monday 15th July – Pacific Rim
I had a day. It began like yesterday, or the day before—or perhaps even the day before that. The turtle swam valiantly, while the sun-disc rotated, rising up to dispel the vapours of night. I awoke to find that I had survived the night, yet again, like some kind of valiant hero—splitting asunder the darkness that for generations has driven fear into Vikings, Erics, Pauls and even Simons, with my eyes closed, by the simple passage of time, combined with living.
Then, sadly, I had to drive to work. Interestingly, traffic was again good. I’m unsure if this is a miracle, a delusion, or proof Campbell Newman really Can-Do. Back during school holidays traffic was good. I was not surprised. Then, after school holidays it stayed good. I was surprised. The only thing I can think that has changed is the removal of the transit lanes, but I don’t see how this would make a difference. It has been so good that the rate-limiting hasn’t been on—or perhaps it’s broken, in which case they should leave it off, because the traffic all the way into town is vastly improved. My journey takes nearly half the time it did before—which as we all know, once lost, can never be recovered.
I have received an email. I am distracted.
Don’t worry—I’m back. It was not interesting. It was an update from eBay about a purchase I had forgot I had made, which hasn’t yet arrived—as one would expect.
So where was I? That’s right, I split the night asunder by a clever combination of breathing, heart-beating, and staying alive (I’m pretty sure there’s a song about it), then drove to town twice as quickly—but at around the same speed as normal (physics is amazing, even ants use it, though they don’t have zebra crossings or stop lights)—via Bronwen’s work and several potholes. Once at work, I worked. I also had a coffee, some Nutrigrain in case I need to be an Iron Man (still working on the suit though—need a suit building robot. eBay doesn’t sell them (though it does sell lightning and happiness, according to its ad (I just wanted three (or four (or even five) brackets in a row (nested, for no reason), which sadly, broke the grammatical sense of this sentence (and furthermore, I’m now unsure where to put the full stop? (Or does the question mark negate the need for one?)) And, in order to start a sentence with it, while I’m grammatically rebelling, so as to continue the theme.
Now, back to normal English—Bronwen heated leftover Halim’s curry which we ate for lunch in the park just before the rain struck. Oh, just as I got back to proper English, I’ve ended. What a shame.
After work I drove to get Bronwen, and then went to The Burrito Bar to argue about going to The Burrito Bar, because it’s not very good and for the $2.50 a $1.95 taco costs me on Monday (yes, it’s confusing—double decker tacos are 50 cents more than normal tacos, which on Monday can be had for the remarkably low price of $1.95, and yes I’m aware that doesn’t add up either, but that’s what they’ve always charged me—and who am I to argue with a Mexican?) Unfortunately for my argument (with Bronwen that is, not the one I’m not having with the Mexicans), they kindly made us special “old style” tacos, which were just as bad as they used to be in the olden days—but far better than the awful new ones which consist almost entirely of bitter lettuce, chopped finely so as to ensure its pain can be best absorbed by the unsuspecting customer. And, partly to use it at the start of a sentence again—but also because this part adds on to the previous part, but is also disjunct—an entity in its own right, but not alone—we got free chips (and a fancy little bowl of dipping sauce) just by checking in on Facebook.
After dinner we drove to South Bank, parking at the Cineplex, and made the mistake of watching “Pacific Rim”. It’s one of the worst movies I’ve seen—the best part was the music at the start of the end credits—not a bad song.
I then wrote a convoluted journal entry, and having now caught up to myself—and for fear that should I overtake myself, something time-warpy might eventuate—I went to bed. Oh dear—I’ve just realised that I haven’t actually gone to bed yet... that’s still in the future. So much for time warps.
Oh no, it’s 1:41 AM! I didn’t go to bed. Instead I read nearly all the Hyperbole and a Half comics. Woe is me.
Tuesday 16th July – Sizzl’r
I got up, right, but it weren’t early n’more, right? I drove Bronwen ter work jus’ by nine, th’n arrived late at me work m’self.
For lunch, right, I ‘ad Sing’s green Thai curry wiv two types of tofu, and coconut rice that weren’t as coconut as it should ‘ave been.
Then, for dinner, right, Bronwen and I drove ter Toowong sizzler, where we used anuvver of us two-for-one Tuesday vouchers. The queues weren’t as long, and we were seated relatively quickly, tho’ it were so noisy wiv ev’ry geezer goin’ on and all the babies discussin’ fings, that it were ‘ard ter chat.
Bronwen laughing at Dogs Don’t Understand Basic Concepts Like Moving.
Wednesday 17th July – The Late and The Helmetless
I was a little later than I’d hoped to be getting to work (but still got there around nine) because Bronwen didn’t have a bicycle helmet so I slept in.
The usual veggie pasty was had for lunch.
I had a quiet night at home, watching “So you think you can dance”—the American version, and we’re now up to season three.
Thursday 18th July – Terrific Thai-ish Food
Bronwen rode to work today, so I got to work nice and quickly. At least, that was the theory. Unfortunately, traffic was especially bad (Kevin Rudd’s fault I assume) so it actually took me quite a while.
I drove to Bronwen’s parents’ place, where I had the most delicious—and also colourful—Thai-ish food. It looked like lots of effort had gone into it, and I felt a bit rude turning up after everyone else had presumably been running around for hours cooking things, and just sitting down and eating it.
Friday 19th July – Petrol prices skyrocket, destroying happiness, koalas
It is rainy again, so I dropped Bronwen off at work on the way to my work. We had leftovers from last nights’ dinner for lunch, and went to Halim’s for dinner.
In other news, my service station is closing down! Last day 22 July. I don’t know where to buy petrol from now? I checked a few other nearby ones (a BP, a Shell and a Caltex) and petrol was 166.9. I went to my service station (a Shell) and it was 147.9. That’s a noticeable difference.
Saturday 20th July – Bronwen’s Parents’ Place
I had a quiet morning. I had planned to go to the Multicultural Festival in the Valley in the afternoon, and the Epicurean Festival at South Bank in the morning, but it was rainy and miserable so instead I went to Nandos in West End for breakfast (at lunch time) then spent the rest of the evening at Bronwen’s parents’ place where it was nice and warm and welcoming, not going to the Multicultural Festival where it was probably cold and wet and full of Valley people.
Bronwen spent the night there to go riding nearly in the morning, and I went to bed late.
Sunday 21st July – Free Trees, Collapsible Buckets & the Epicurean Festival (or why I ate sheep’s cheese and had cause to ponder apostrophic possessive collective sheep)
I drove over to Bronwen’s parents’ place, cleverly arriving just as Bronwen had got back from her ride. We had a yummy cooked breakfast, and then drove to the Northey Street Farm to get free trees, then went to a nearby camping store to buy a collapsible bucket, and then Howard’s Storage World to look for a dishwasher-sized-hole-storage-solution.
After all this excitement, Bronwen and I went to the Epicurean Festival at South Bank—which was much bigger than I had expected—and ate lots of small, but usually rich, things.
After South Bank we drove to Kookaburra Cafe, where I had a pumpkin gnocchi in blue cheese sauce and Bronwen a spaghetti vegetarian. It was delicious. We then drove to Bronwen’s parents’ place again, where we stayed chatting, drinking tea and solving political problems, as the British used to do.
Monday 22nd July – I save Australia
Today, I saved Australia. I also went to work, dropped Bronwen off at her work on the way, and had lunch with Bronwen and Anne.
But first, let’s save Australia.
Ned’s quick solution to Australian Democracy:
Not only make voting voluntary, but actively discourage people from voting. Run TV ads “Cool people don’t vote. Drink VB instead” etc. The kind of people who respond to the ads, are not the kind of people you want choosing who should run a country.
Ask almost anyone and they will tell you they are voting a certain way because they hate Abbott, or love Rudd, or hate what Rudd did to Gillard but hate Abbot so have to vote Green, or... not a SINGLE person has yet said to me they are voting a certain way because of party policies, or the party’s historical record of delivering its policies, or because it will generate the best political outcome for Australia, or anything even remotely sane. Not one of those people should be voting.
Then, ban all political advertising the same way cigarette ads are banned. Make them all have an equal amount of space to deliver their messages, in black and white, with pictures of diseased people where appropriate and lots of warnings. The media would automatically lose most of its power simply because anyone who reads it will respond to the ads and not vote to start with, leaving only those who can think properly, and actually care and understand—who will then vote correctly, in a way that’s best for me.
I am unsure how to deal with Katter’s hat, bus, and motorbike tours, but other than that, democracy is fixed.
You’re welcome Australia.
So, for lunch I drove down to Rosalie, where Bronwen, Anne and I ate many, many chips, several potato scallops, and perhaps a few pineapple fritters—while discussing Woodford and black and white film development—such seemingly normal subjects to be discussing on this momentous day.
While waiting for my knighthood, I drove to The Burrito Bar. Bronwen, Dan and Maz managed—with great difficulty and lots of explaining to the poor guy on the cash register, who could barely order normal things (though to be fair, this is not his fault—no one seems to be able to use their computerised ordering system), let alone mystical things from the past—to get one of the longer-serving staff members to make them “classic” tacos. I, being jaded and disenfranchised, instead ordered nachos—which have gone up in price considerably whilst also going down in size. Having thus confirmed my jaded opinion of reality, I skipped ordering Cold Rock, and drove to Bronwen’s parents’ place instead, where some nice hot tea saved Australia’s saviour from the inglorious—and somewhat ironic—fate of freezing to death on the same day he saved Australia. As one would expect, we discussed early American history while nibbling Swiss chocolate with little orange pieces in it.
After driving home I had to stay up late and do my washing. It should be noted that it was too cold for this and I endured hardship.