Friday, August 17, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
42
Another two weeks without blogging... shame, shame... but the good thing is, most of my friends have pretty much neglected their blogs as well. So I don't feel so bad.. :o)
My reasons for not blogging? Two words... well, maybe one, depending on how you look at it... facebook.
Facebook has consumed my spare time. Stuffed if I know how it manages to do that, since there isn't a lot you can do there... strange how a half hour can turn into hours and hours... I have even started using it at work - like I really have time to add facebook to my daily work schedule...
Oh, in case you have facebook but haven't added me as your friend yet... Add me! :o)
So anyway, my buddy Adam came over Friday night. We don't get to catch up very often. Turned into a booze-fest (Well duh!) Many many beers, late night oven baked chicken & chips... and a load of music & talking and squealing and stuff, we crashed. Why can't I ever make it a whole night anymore... Good times anyway...
Saturday morning, woke up not feeling too hung over (surprisingly) and I forgot the aerial guy was coming. As you might know, we have been without commercial television since we moved in to this apartment... we plugged in an old telly in the first week while waiting for my stuff to arrive from Sydney, and we couldn't get any reception in the living room - but we cold in my room. So, obviously there is something wrong with the aerial connection in the living room right? WRONG...
The aerial guy arrives, Adam leaves... silly boy - with a hot tradesman in the house, who would just leave like that, huh? He was hot. Looked Italian / Spanish / something dark and exotic anyway, dark hair, short, tight bod, lunchy, nice...
Anyway, so he tests the two connections in the apartment and says "There's nothing wrong with either connection. They work fine..."
Huh? What the..?
"Sorry mate, it's all working... but since there is nothing wrong, I can't bill the real estate - you are gonna have to pay - $80"
Huh? What the..?
So I thought, since I have to pay him anyway... I best be putting him to good use.
Now in my own personal Bel Ami Land, this is where I would really put him to good use. But no. That's not how things happen in real life. (Of course, I wouldn't have hesitated if the opportunity presented itself...) I sat him down, played my Paris card and got him to completely tune my TV, analogue and digital, and DVD recorder - everything. The man's fingers worked very hard for the money, believe you me. He was a master - magical fingers, touching every button, making everything happen, if I smoked I may very well have lit a cigarette afterwards. He was amazing.
So afterwards, paid him his money and sent him packing. Really wasn't far off the real thing then was it...
Sunday I met Moto in the city. Moto is new to Melbourne like me. Well, I'm not really new any more, 8 months now. But still feel a bit green. Moto has been in Melbourne 4 months. So I took him to one of my favourite places in the city, Ca de Vin. Nice place in the laneway between GPO & Myer on Bourke St Mall. So we sat there polished off a few bottles of Pinot Noir and talked. And talked. And talked. Left there 5 hours later feeling rather uncoordinated. Being a Sunday evening, with work the next day, best option was to jump on a tram and head home, right? No. We wandered back to his place (he lives in CBD) via a bottle shop and grabbed another couple of bottles.
Staggered out into the street sometime around 9 (I think!) and jumped in a cab. I flirted uninhibitedly with my married cab driver. The shame of it all... but he was certainly very receptive, so I don't feel too bad about it!
Staggered inside, and Dom offers me... another wine... aiya...
I end up a pathetic mess. Pass out.
"Hi, my name is Brad, and I'm an alcoholic."
Monday morning. Oh - My - God... I was so ill. I was so ill I could hardly walk. I struggled to get dressed. I staggered out to my tram. I had to get off the tram twice on the way to the city, thinking I was gonna be sick. I wasn't. But it felt like it many times.
Made it to the city, changed trams to head up Bourke St - buggered if I was gonna walk it today... Half way up, I started to shake. Not a light shiver... but a near on fit kind of shake... my whole body shook, went all numb, like pins and needles. sweat. Oh - My - God...
Managed to make it to work. Crawled to my desk. I was green. I couldn't work. I couldn't even speak. It wasn't until lunch time that I was stable enough to actually do any work. Prior to that it was "Ring, ring.. - Can someone get that?" "No I can't help you right now, I can't even help myself right now. Come back later..."
Boys & Girls - The moral of the story? Don't drink so much on a Sunday night when you have to work the next day? No. Have the guts to call in sick when you do drink too much on a Sunday night.
Good times...
Oh, and in case you are wondering what the title means... well, I couldn't think of a title, and as was pointed out to me, 42 is the Answer to The Ultimate Question Of Life, the Universe and Everything. So 42 it is...
My reasons for not blogging? Two words... well, maybe one, depending on how you look at it... facebook.
Facebook has consumed my spare time. Stuffed if I know how it manages to do that, since there isn't a lot you can do there... strange how a half hour can turn into hours and hours... I have even started using it at work - like I really have time to add facebook to my daily work schedule...
Oh, in case you have facebook but haven't added me as your friend yet... Add me! :o)
So anyway, my buddy Adam came over Friday night. We don't get to catch up very often. Turned into a booze-fest (Well duh!) Many many beers, late night oven baked chicken & chips... and a load of music & talking and squealing and stuff, we crashed. Why can't I ever make it a whole night anymore... Good times anyway...
Saturday morning, woke up not feeling too hung over (surprisingly) and I forgot the aerial guy was coming. As you might know, we have been without commercial television since we moved in to this apartment... we plugged in an old telly in the first week while waiting for my stuff to arrive from Sydney, and we couldn't get any reception in the living room - but we cold in my room. So, obviously there is something wrong with the aerial connection in the living room right? WRONG...
The aerial guy arrives, Adam leaves... silly boy - with a hot tradesman in the house, who would just leave like that, huh? He was hot. Looked Italian / Spanish / something dark and exotic anyway, dark hair, short, tight bod, lunchy, nice...
Anyway, so he tests the two connections in the apartment and says "There's nothing wrong with either connection. They work fine..."
Huh? What the..?
"Sorry mate, it's all working... but since there is nothing wrong, I can't bill the real estate - you are gonna have to pay - $80"
Huh? What the..?
So I thought, since I have to pay him anyway... I best be putting him to good use.
Now in my own personal Bel Ami Land, this is where I would really put him to good use. But no. That's not how things happen in real life. (Of course, I wouldn't have hesitated if the opportunity presented itself...) I sat him down, played my Paris card and got him to completely tune my TV, analogue and digital, and DVD recorder - everything. The man's fingers worked very hard for the money, believe you me. He was a master - magical fingers, touching every button, making everything happen, if I smoked I may very well have lit a cigarette afterwards. He was amazing.
So afterwards, paid him his money and sent him packing. Really wasn't far off the real thing then was it...
Sunday I met Moto in the city. Moto is new to Melbourne like me. Well, I'm not really new any more, 8 months now. But still feel a bit green. Moto has been in Melbourne 4 months. So I took him to one of my favourite places in the city, Ca de Vin. Nice place in the laneway between GPO & Myer on Bourke St Mall. So we sat there polished off a few bottles of Pinot Noir and talked. And talked. And talked. Left there 5 hours later feeling rather uncoordinated. Being a Sunday evening, with work the next day, best option was to jump on a tram and head home, right? No. We wandered back to his place (he lives in CBD) via a bottle shop and grabbed another couple of bottles.
Staggered out into the street sometime around 9 (I think!) and jumped in a cab. I flirted uninhibitedly with my married cab driver. The shame of it all... but he was certainly very receptive, so I don't feel too bad about it!
Staggered inside, and Dom offers me... another wine... aiya...
I end up a pathetic mess. Pass out.
"Hi, my name is Brad, and I'm an alcoholic."
Monday morning. Oh - My - God... I was so ill. I was so ill I could hardly walk. I struggled to get dressed. I staggered out to my tram. I had to get off the tram twice on the way to the city, thinking I was gonna be sick. I wasn't. But it felt like it many times.
Made it to the city, changed trams to head up Bourke St - buggered if I was gonna walk it today... Half way up, I started to shake. Not a light shiver... but a near on fit kind of shake... my whole body shook, went all numb, like pins and needles. sweat. Oh - My - God...
Managed to make it to work. Crawled to my desk. I was green. I couldn't work. I couldn't even speak. It wasn't until lunch time that I was stable enough to actually do any work. Prior to that it was "Ring, ring.. - Can someone get that?" "No I can't help you right now, I can't even help myself right now. Come back later..."
Boys & Girls - The moral of the story? Don't drink so much on a Sunday night when you have to work the next day? No. Have the guts to call in sick when you do drink too much on a Sunday night.
Good times...
Oh, and in case you are wondering what the title means... well, I couldn't think of a title, and as was pointed out to me, 42 is the Answer to The Ultimate Question Of Life, the Universe and Everything. So 42 it is...
