Obviously...

I have an honest face.

Honest face = schmuck.

So everyone, please perform the following acts:

Walk up to me in the street and ask for money. I obviously can afford it, and I’m obviously far too nice to turn you down.

Order me around. I’m obviously too self conscious to make my own decisions, and I don’t have the assertive personality to stand up for myself.

Disagree with me, and tell me why I’m “too sensitive” to your efforts to undermine my position and basically screw me over.

Take credit for my work. Or at least sabotage it. I’m obviously not deserving of any credit, as this is a dog-eat-dog world, and only the toughest survive.

Oh… I forgot to mention. I’m not an “obvious” kinda guy.

Fuck: off, you, you and that.

Respectively.

The human atrium

I work in a building in the Adelaide CBD, about nine storeys up. I have a nice view to the west, which shows a vast panorama of the glass building next door.

There are days where I feel a little trapped. This feeling isn’t helped by the Venetian blinds which create a gaol-bar-like effect.

About half an hour ago, this feeling came to a head, almost to the point where I cracked and started flinging crap around, like a caged animal.

A couple little birds, spoggies as they’re known here, flew up and landed on my window’s shelf.

One of them just stood there and looked in the window… staring at me. The bird’s partner hopped up and down the shelf, periodically staring into my cubicle.

I felt their eyes on me, like they were just waiting to see what I would do next.

Then they both continued to hop around the shelf, taking in the sight of my cluttered workspace, my hunched figure over the keyboard and the dim glow of the machine’s eye.

Then they chirped to themselves. I could only just hear them through the glass.

It was like they were laughing at me. How pathetic it was that this monstrous animal was reduced to a cramped space, surrounded by stacks of paper, his bleary eyes testament to the futility of it all.

Then, somewhat teasingly, they flew off. Free.

I have suddenly developed an odd hatred of zoos.

Penguin Force, Go!

Over the years I’ve learned that dealing with a confrontation with an equal and opposite amout of aggression doesn’t cancel the confrontation out.

Far from it. In fact, it makes the entire ordeal a fistful-of-fuck worse.

And I was chatting to a friend of mine about this precise subject the other night. I said that I find the best way to negate a situation like that is to make light of the subject, give a self deprecating comment and voila… situation avoided.

He nodded like he understood what I was saying.

The night progressed. We were at a black-tie dinner. Thankfully not too much booze was drank – I had soft drink the whole night.

On the way back to the car, I had to walk up Bank Street to pick up some cash. I asked my mate to come with me as it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Sure enough, as I was pulling my cash from the ATM, a drunkard staggered up the street. Spying us in our tuxedoes, he decided he would approach us.

“Havin’ a good night, fellas?” he slurred at us

Keeping my eyes on him, I hurriedly pushed the cash into my wallet.

“You guys are inshurance saleshmen…” he queried.

“Nah mate, just been out at a function” I replied cheerfully.

“You guys don’t have any shpare cash on ya, do ya? I need to get home”

Now, I am usually prepared for this kinda stuff. He would’ve seen me at the ATM, so he knew I had cash on me. But I usually keep a bus ticket with one trip left on it in my wallet, just in case I’m approached by people wanting money for a “bus ticket”.

I was ready to pull the ticket out and give it to him, therefore negating any problems before they came to a head, but my mate decided to interject.

“No we don’t have cash on us, but I’ve got a good idea for ya”

Pause. My mind racing with the words Oh and Fuck.

“Get a job”

I let out a resigned sigh, reaching into my pocket for my car keys, strategically placing them in my fist so many keys jutted out between my fingers.

What the fuck had I just told this guy???? I kept my hand in my pocket to hide the fist of metal I had hastily prepared.

He started shouting a bit of abuse. My mate only stirred the pot even more with a calm but condescending tone. The tuxedo probably didn’t help.

“Nevermind him, mate” I quickly told the drunkard, “he’s tanked and doesn’t know what he’s saying”

“He should keep his mouth shut!”

“Alright, I’ll take care of him” I said before backing away down the street with my mate.

“I’m not pissed (drunk), Andy” my mate said to me, “we coulda taken him. I don’t put up with people like that”

Further proof that you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t stop him from being an ass…

Bubye winter.

You know it’s that time of year again.

The mercury climbs, and the lifestyle changes ever so slightly. I used to hate the warmer months, truth be told. But it changed last year.

I used to lament warm weather, as I was hardly comfortable in shorts. But now evenings are spent walking through parks, and running like an idiot through the sprinklers - with my shirt and tie from work still on.

I now sit on the landing at Café Lago and let the cool waters of the River Torrens gently balance the level of comfort with the warm air. White wine always tastes better whilst relaxing at this place.

Searching out that nice little restaurant in the hills I find is a pleasant cruise with the windows down. The warm air blowing in the opening chills momentarily as you pass a sheer rockface that hasn’t been touched by the merciless Australian sun.

You can walk down the beach these days without requiring the ten layers of clothing to shield you from the Antarctic gales that blow up from the south. The beach is where you can marvel at the beauty of this country, and the colours of the sky gently warm your soul.

Hoho… and let’s not forget the best thing about the new season. It is something that is truly a joy, and surpasses all these sensations I describe above. Mere words cannot fully express my delight.

Girls. Short skirts.

Phwoar.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Over for another year

I have done it

I have successfully managed to go through a whole season of Australian Rules Football (AFL) without viewing a game at all. I hardly knew who was on top of the table, and I didn’t know what team was scrubbing up the arse end.

All I know is that the West Coast Eagles won. It’s kinda hard to not know the result of the Grand Final (Aussie version of the Superbowl) as it’s plastered over every single news stand.

I played AFL in my younger years, and I consider myself to be somewhat handy with the ball. Unfortunately injury took me out of the sport. There was a time where I became couch coach and would yell things at the screen – because I knew everything about the footsball.

Naturally, it was a perfectly good excuse for me to force my kids into the game in order to live vicariously through them.

But I stopped watching football. It’s an incredibly frustrating game to watch, due in part to the rule book being thicker than an entire collection of encyclopaedia Brittanica.

I can sum up playing the game as below:

There are two teams on the field. They wear differing colours to separate them and therefore allocates which goals they should be aiming the ball at.

There are guys out there who wear the same colour as you. You punch them.

There are guys out there who wear different colours to you. You try to punch them more than the guys wearing your colour.

Sometimes your hands hold a “ball”. You kick or punch this ball, sometimes glancing your limb off it strategically so that you end up kicking or punching someone else.

The referee is named an umpire, and you are not to come into contact with him at all… accidental or otherwise. Doing so will have you suspended indefinitely and you must sell your house to cover the fine.

Each team, however, has a player who is the umpire’s favourite and he is free to punch and kick everyone and anyone. Even the umpire will brush off a full frontal crash tackle with a, “nice one, champ” and a thumbs up.

The winner of the game is the team who somehow managed to not get caught punching someone else.

SO yes, it is an achievement. I have avoided the legalised combat that is the AFL for an entire season.

For anyone overseas who is curious about Aussie Rules Football, simply pick up an oblong shaped ball, get a few sticks to peg in the ground, and then proceed to punch everyone nearby. You’ll get the picture soon enough.