Worlds Best Present

20121226-162459.jpg This is what a beautiful six year old girl gets you for Christmas. An exercise book with 8 FREE pages, so I can write a little bit more of my own story. I guess this is a reflection of what is important and rich in her own life. She loves to write stories and believes everyone around her does the same. You have to dig the multiple coloured Post-It Notes, a symbol of high organisational skills. Was she trying to say I need it, or that this supply would compliment my existing inventory? I put Google to the test this morning and found this quaint Scottish Restaurant over at West Ryde this morning. I didn’t order a lot of brekkie type food, only savoured a coffee and moved on.


At 12 past 12, 12th day of Dec, I was driving out of the work car park. Nothing particularly dazzling or significant about this but the cosmic boost of energy at this precise moment got me to the gym without complaint. I googled 12/12/1212, which meant our focus today 2012 has really been on the ‘poor cousin’ of this more powerful combo of numbers. And, nothing happened on that day either. At the time of typing this, it appears we all survived the end of the Mayan Calendar. The solar flare must have burst it’s bubble on the other side of the sun, and the deadly meteorite tapped a bit of space junk, enough to hurl it towards that fake planet Pluto. No disrespect to the girl who actually named Pluto, I thought it was Walt Disney. So glad I didn’t borrow any money to build that underground bunker, I guess there’s going to be a whole bunch of these on eBay at a bargain price. Stick one on a sturdy tree and you have a cool tree house for the kids or a flood proof man cave. End of World predictions? … “You don’t have to be really smart to figure out everyone’s been wrong up till now,” that’s why I must be smart. I’m so tough, I wasn’t afraid of the end of the world, I was more worried about the impeding zombie race and teenage vampires and man-wolves.

Book Club

20121201-163941.jpg I’ve infiltrated the secret society of book readers, and successfully passed the ritual rights of passage (paddles, tar and feathers). I am now a fully fledged member of literary giants. They call it a ‘book club’, I think it’s a secret poet society thing. After about six months, it’s now my turn to choose a book to appease the savagery lust of these eye candy seekers. That’s where the pic image to the left comes into play. Admittedly, my ploy was unravelling because I had struggled in the earlier assigned books to read anything in its entirety, so I chose a book that had less than 200 pages, and as a bonus, there was a DVD. I got both from Amazon for £19. I CAN read a book with less than 200 pages within 2 months …. I hope!

Flight to the long white cloud

20121126-064559.jpg I’m sitting at Row 13 Seat B, which means I’m positioned in that unenviable place having a body on both sides of me. My elbows uncomfortably nudge my temporary neighbours, and it becomes a silent battle of wills as to who secures the arm rests which I consider to be prime real estate on this long journey. in fact, I only win this battle only because of my early push at the gate and I maintained pole position right up until the point my bladder calls and I had to go to the toilet 25 mins into the flight. Damn blaady bladder, who invented these organs anyway … I never got to taste the spoils of the arm rests for the duration of the flight after that. Anyway, I urge everyone to see the film titled, “Beasts of the Southern Wild”. If you watch it in the right frame of mind, you can be assured to cry while two grown men are sitting next to you. Here’s a film review, please click on it (it won’t make you pregnant): Click here One advantage sitting at seat 13B on a 737, is that it’s a an emergency exit row. This gives immediate access to the outside world if the plane makes an unexpected stop other than the tarmac. Plus it gives you that extra leg space. The downside …. the seat doesn’t lean back, I guess you’re expected to always be awake and alert when the plane spirals down into the ocean. Whhhheeeeeeeeeee!

Its Snot OK

I was driving to North Sydney this afternoon, … and guess what was presented to me along the roadside? Some guy conducting a gold digging explorative search up his nose with his finger. What’s with these people? Isn’t it still an unsociable thing to do, or at least can’t they hide in some alley out of public view to do their business. I was almost compelled to call the police and report him for indecent exposure or at the very least, visual pollution. This sort of thing makes me ill. Hey, I have a lot of room for tolerance, and I’m happy to put up with this, if let’s say, you use any finger on your ‘left hand’. Reserve the right hand for those germ free handshakes, and for opening and closing doors, etc. Imagine giving someone a high five, only to find remnants of some green putty in your palms. Yuk!
20121101-195151.jpg I went to the gym this afternoon, really hoping that this exercise switch is back ‘on’. Also saw Rob from the local rugby club along with his gorgeous baby girl. He was signing back up, and I was returning from retirement. Immediately after the gym, I went and purchased this choice acoustic guitar. My last guitar was given away to a young boy who was learning to play at the time. Hopefully, he’s still deligently strumming those strings. Going to go find those dusty music books. Goodnight all.