So cool to have friends, problem is I don’t have many. I’ve invested so much time over the years working and dutifully returning home each and every day. My line of work is not physically taxing, but it can be stressful and so I learnt early in the piece that a beer in the hand is worth two in the fridge … like Homer Simpson, ‘cept I have more hair. Friends, like really good one’s, are like receivers. You transmit information and they process it. Problem is, I’ve noticed is that, some people take advantage of this and use it to spin their yarn with full poetic license, and the ‘friend’ fulfils their obligation to believe everything told to them. There’s two sides to almost every story and, it takes two to tango. Tango by the way is not as cool as Samba or the Salsa. Incidentally, it takes two to Samba or Salsa as well but the negative connotation only applies to Tango. My children are my bestest friends, however I don’t weave any tall stories with them, unless it’s about the fish I caught, that was this ‘bbbbbbbbiggggggg’ or the fierce dragon I wrestled to submission. Oh well, got to get up soon for work, ground hog day.

Turning 50 has attracted a lot of pats on my back followed up with ‘it’s all downhill from here’ jibes. In fact, going downhill sounds fun, fast and requires a lot less effort than the journey getting to the top in the first place. Going uphill requires effort, strength and endurance, none of the qualities which I’m keen to exert any of my precious energy on. I guess going downhill is an acknowledgement that I’ve finally reached the top of the mountain, enjoyed the rest, and will now either glide, base jump, parachute down to the waiting paparazzi to congratulate me on this feat. Love it. Just watched a documentary showing the weirdest talents of people like the guy who is able to suck a strand of spaghetti into his mouth and out his nostril. And another person who can drink milk and can ooze it out of his tear ducts. How the hang did these people discover these things … theres just no accidental reason why someone should suddenly stumble across these things, it would require practise and perseverance to perfect. On that note, let me see if I can blow snot out of my ears?

Just recently I was thrown a piece of verbal wisdom, being told to live each day as it comes. I sort of recall being offered another gem, saying to live each day as if it were my last. You ought to see my very very old cat, the poor thing is mostly blind, mostly deaf, and mostly old. I think she should live each day as if it were her last. As for me, I would actually like to live my life in alignment with this adage, ‘live each 5 (or 10) year period as it comes’. I love planning, I love to look forward to some grand goal, and I certainly don’t want to live today as if it were my last because in all honesty, I would probably be shagging some harem of buxom women who know nothing more than to pleasure me, every day that I thought was my last. By the way, if you find this harem on ebay please bid for me by proxy. Maximum bid in the millions. I have lots of last days to celebrate! Last week I celebrated my 50th year on this planet, and I did it in style. So much in fact, that I do not recall much of what I did. Alcohol sales blipped a tiny minuscule percentage in Sydney, I probably insulted whoever, and most likely stared at someone way too long, and said the most inappropriate things, but hey, … I think I had fun. No matter what we do in these crazy moments however, we should always maintain a sharp focus on those who matter most.

Hi turtle-lings, I’m waiting for the dancing topless Amazonian women to drop from the ceiling Matrix style on my 50th birthday. No worries, my jaw will still drop, and I’ll still be surprised, in fact very surprised. The medics can piss off, my heart can take the excitement. 50 years ago, I was a mistake. A great mistake that my mum loved dearly. A visiting pilot from England decided to go out on the town (big happening place, Auckland), met up with my innocent gorgeous mum and did the deed. This would have had to have been around mid October, 1961. According to Google at that time, ten NZ National MPs voted with the Opposition to remove capital punishment for murder from the Crimes Bill that the National Government had introduced (big, big news). I guess that would have initiated a flurry of amorous boys and gals to go out on the turps that week to celebrate. Wow! Beers sales would have sky rocketed. I’ve watched enough Discovery channels to know that I won the race to the egg! I beat all the other losers to get my mums egg fertilised, what a winner! Oh yeah, high fives!! I thank the lucky stars for that powerful tail flick. I don’t know terribly much about my dad, but he did fly Winston Churchill a lot in what I think was a Douglas plane with lots of fighter planes protecting him. Cool! Real cool. 50 years on, I’ve dyed my hair blonde once and that hurt so bad, I’ve had an ear ring, not the gay ear, I’ve had my chest waxed, never again. I’ve experienced a lot in 50 years and I could not even imagine to highlight any one thing that I would like to say was the big bang. But here am with 4 lovely children, unfortunately I have cancer but what the heck, true love can never be shattered by any dark moments. Brad was the first to extend me good wishes just now for the 50 years, he only just walked in the door. Nighty night all.

Another day, but this time I made my maiden voyage to the gym and pumped those muscles for all good of 35 mins. Brad was in the background flexing as he does with a whole lot more weights than what I could ever handle. I’m on a high, and I need to capitalise on these good feelings so I can build up a reserve. Much like the chipmunks who store food in their cheek pouches. Hahaha, … don’t you love cartoons that educate. I’d like to thank Brett who tirelessly called me and replied to my texting when I was down trodden in the dumps. It’s shouldn’t come as a surprise when someone is suddenly faced with their own mortality, that everythings takes on a new perspective. I like that word, ‘perspective’, not often do I get to use a word with 11 letters, … twice! I’ve been off the turps for around 11 months, except for 3 times when I fell thirsty and water was scarce. Two Saturday’s ago I was lured to the local Inn by the Hornsby Rugby Team, that was a night to remember!!!! I even got cosy with a hooker, here’s the picture to prove it. The first two times were when things just hit rock bottom after a great deal of disappointment. Almost everything looks different now after my last result, nothing needs to make sense. Just thought of an interesting book title, ‘Crab-like Hobby Dream’ … love, sex, and happy forever after. Is this what they call ‘intuition’?