Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Well that sucked

So in the dying moments of the old year, we get to assess what went right / what went wrong in 08. Like a crap newshow with clips I could revisit some of these moments as highlights - which hopefully have a spectacular crash sequence in them - only because it is spectacular footage as opposed to being of any actual news merit.

But I won't.

There have been some kewl moments I will grant you. Seeing theNoo awaken as he grows and learns is pretty neato. TheWife's efforts with that get a massive box tick from me, esp since she's borne the bulk of the burden.

However kewl has been outweighed by krap. There have been some mind numbing heart numbing awful moments as well. I won't got into them. But if I was to do that footage thing there would be a fair amount of post surgical vomiting.

So on balance ... 08 erred on being in the less than great column. I think the nays have it in speaker of the house parlance.

Onward and upward though. 09, baring an ELO (the event or the band reforming), would logically have to piss all over 08. Time heals all and all that.

Well ... here's hoping.

Have a happy new year punters. Auld Lang whatever and so forth.

UPDATE: I realised that ELO is not an acronym for Extinction Level Event, ELE is. So the above observation makes little sense. But then Duck was drunk so he likely missed that.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Why do computers hate me so?

The fucking laptop I bought for $200 from someone at work died - the keyboard likes to put 1s or 2s in place of half the alphabet and now the DVD/CD rom drive is fucked.

And ... on this here desktop the internet connection speed is at 50 kps - if that - and I have broadband. I'd call Optus (yes, we're still with those fuckers), except their FAQ simply blames my PC and their dodgy Indian techie named "Steve" will say the same.

Why can't things just fucking work?!

Congrats to Michelle

On the launch of the good ship HMAS Own Place

Kudos dude. May 2009 shit all over the crap biscuit that was 08 (for both of us).

Ah Michelle. Easily one of the most entertaining and interesting blog people I have ever met.

UPDATE: I just realised, that if you shit over a crap biscuit ... all you're doing is adding more shit.

The Office (US Version)

I have to admit when I saw the first season, which consisted of many of the British scripts re-touched, I thought 'the creamed corn tastes like creamed crap'.

But ... once the US series got into its own territory. Wow. Top notch first class comedy. It's as good as Arrested Development and 30 Rock. And ... like those two, both are sans laugh track / studio audience.

Great stuff. Season 2 (you can start with that) is for sale as low as $30 in most stores.

It is seriously good. Just fucking awesome.

A special double Rimmer to all those that work on it.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Winehouse Tips

In the SMH they have ad boxes. I misread the weightloss one as 'Winehouse tips.' So what could some of them be?

Beehives are kewl

Tatts are kewl

Drugs are kewl

Dental work - schmental work

Don't go to rehab

(Fire away blog punters)

Tripod Goodness

I'm a big fan of their work. I've been listening to Open Slather a lot lately. On it, there's this song called "Apparently", which is their self-described "political" song.

In the intro, Tripod mention that some people think they don't know about issues and that, in fact, they have been accused of being ... 'cock-spanks'.

Fucking hell, that is a funny term. I will use the term cock-spank with gusto from now on.

UPDATE: According to their wiki, Tripod got their first TV gig on Hey Hey's Red Faces segment. Tripod's goodness is such that I think they can be forgiven for this oversight.

Area bath time has adult themes

TheNoo's elder parents (aka grandparents) bought him some bath toys to use whilst at their place. They kindly let us take them home. They were of the colourful rubber squeeze variety in the shape of transport items (boats, cars etc) and had jolly cartoon visages - kind of like Thomas the Tank Engine.

These rubber squeeze toys have a squeaker hole in them that, when you hold the toy under the water and squeezed in, will fill up with water through said hole. You can then squirt out the contents with some force.

So naturally I squirt theNoo during bath time.

I was happily squirting him away with one of the toys, in short bursts as opposed to the longus streamus, and as usual I was babbling crap.

'Money shot from the pink train! Money shot from the pink train!'

In my defence it was from a pink train ... but still ... the door was open to the outside and I shudder to think what a passerby might have thought...

Peter Reynolds

At my school, there was this guy in my year named Peter Reynolds. He was an average bloke, one of the motorbike fan kids who at recess would impersonate their favourite bike by doing air handlebars and flicking their foot out like they were doing a dirt-burn out and saying 'vaunton'.

"vaunton" was the sound effect place holder for said burn out.

I'm not sure how this happened exactly, but whenever someone got in trouble with a casual teacher, and asked their name, they'd say it was 'Peter Reynolds.'

This soon extended to taking out library books in his name.

Our school librarian was an unpleasant moustache wearing man-woman arse-hat whose favourite pastime was performing unasked for psych assessments of the children and telling them their faults. I was apparently manipulative because I asked to store my oversized yellow bike helmet in the library so people wouldn't draw cocks on it.

Anyway, being married to the Deputy Principal gave her a lot of power. Consequently people with more than one book overdue were relegated to the same level as kids who got in trouble in class for fighting - banned from excursions, sports events and so forth.

Peter Reynolds was now one of these people due to the fact he had so many library books out.

Indeed, he got hauled into the principal's office at the end of year 10, and I believe he was leaving then to become a panel beater's apprentice or some such, and told they were withholding his year 10 leaving certificate because he was an incorrigible recidivist who was always mucking up on casual teachers.

Over Xmas I was reading Robert Hughes' The Fatal Shore, a kind of docudrama historical snapshot of penal settlement of Oz. It was an excellent read - totally worth a gander if you like entertaining history that is both a top down and bottom up analysis.

One of the figures of fun was the Reverend Samuel Marsden - the primo Anglican priest of the Sydney settlement. Righty Ozzers would have loved this guy. He wasn't one of the Jesus as Mr Roberts in Sandals types. He was a full on fire and brimstone, flogging's too good for them choleric red in the face Sunday screamer, who managed to focus on the bits on the bible about Sodom and not the part that says about rich people meets camels and trying to get into heaven - given the good rev was a prime land owner and user of convict labour.

For lower class convict types cohabitation was the norm. And given the lack of power female convicts had in changing their lot, a lot also performed the odd prostitution service in exchange for being able to survive. The worst women were sent to the female factory at parra, where some of them managed to get preggers despite their being locked up ways. Of course, it helps when the guards are men, but still.

At any rate, when a bastard was born, demands were usually made as to the identity of the father.

According to Robert Hughes, inevitably, as an Ozzer pisstake, the woman said "Samuel Marsden".

So there you have it. It's the Peter Reynolds joke, 150 odd years before he was born in action.

Go Australian humour.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Be it ever so humble...

Back home. Thank gawd. I don't mind staying away from home, depending on the environment where you're staying, but it's always good to be back in your own space where you're Charles in Charge of your own damn me.

But ... off again soon for a bit to see another slice of family-dom. Takes a deep breath...

Apologies for the lack of postings. I was in an internet-accessible unfriendly locality.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Xmas musings

I have IBS. I think I've mentioned this. Going to the toilet is a sometime painful experience.

I've discovered ways of making it more painful.

A) Have the toilet in the bathroom itself - make the bathroom expansive. That way there's lots of space around you and you feel weird.

B) Have the toilet / bathroom just off the TV room. That way when you're straining out some pebble dashery you can hear people less than two feet away.

C) Have the anti odor device in the bathroom pump out a coconut smell. The exact same smell the horrible middle ear infection medication you had to guzzle as a kid had. You know, as icing on the fucking poo cake.

So not really Xmas musings at all then.

Apologies to my blogger friends for not landing and reading your stuff. Access to the internet is sporadic.

Have a great day. I hope if you're with other people they're people you enjoy being with. If you're alone then I hope you've lined up a bunch of joy bursts to fill your day with.

Merry xmas one and all. And to all ... a good morning.

Monday, December 22, 2008


I am a hatman. I don't mean that I am made of hats, or have hat based super-powers (which, let's face it would be pretty pissweak as far as powers went unless your opponents all wear hats and one of your sub powers of the hat themed powers is to lower the brim of other hats over people's eyes. It a hat dominated society, like America in the 1950s, I could see that would be of benefit however).

I wear hats. Or a hat. A baseball style hat for the most part - and have done for years. Ever since I started to bald. That's not a concealment thing by the way. I don't care that people know I bald. I just don't want scalp cancer. So I wear a hat.

My prime hat of choice is my Alma Mater hat - my first uni. Sure, it's grubbed up. But it's iconic. It's part of me.

The other day theWife and I went to the movies. When I left my old uni I became a life member of the union - the student's association. The kewl thing is that the card was photo ID, stamped with the Uni's logo, and has no expiry date. I often use it to get student discount.

Yes, I know, that's borderline dodgy. But well no harm in trying.

So I flashed the card at the girl at the movie counter. Then decided to accentuate the card's power by pointing upward at my hat.

'You know,' I said. 'As per my hat!'

I made a click click noise, like they do in the movies.

Cue incomprehension from counter girl.

'Um,' said thewife. 'You're not wearing that hat.'

Yes, I'd decided to leave my uni hat at home and wear my Chinglish Canberra one instead.

Nice one mimo. I especially like the clicking.

Holiday going okay so far. Severe gut pain, sleeping lots, dosed up on pain meds but ... otherwise ... having fun.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Rogue Trolley

I borrowed a flat bed trolley from another section today. They were having their morning tea clustered around a circle table when I tried to muscle the trolley past them. It banged the table.

Cue laughter.

What can I say? I am a show off. So, happy to have an audience reaction, I then proceeded to "accidentally" batter the trolley into various items - bins, chairs, the gap between work stations, more bins, and even into a work station proper, spooling looped tinsel to the floor.

'Sorry!' I yelled, as the tinsel spooled.

Then I admitted I couldn't even drive a manual.

I am incorrigible.

Speaking of theWife...

The other day we were in the car and a story was on the radio about the Brooklyn Bridge. Specific mention was made of the number of people that died during its construction.

'27,' I said proudly, before the presenter. Yes, I know, it's pretty nerdy to know that. I was right too (OTB*).

At any rate theWife then asked why they died. Specifically she said the following.

'Was it the mafia?'

'What?' I responded.

'You know. Because they're always killing people and burying them in the foundations.'


*Own Trumpet Blow

Speaking of Ming

From Big Train...

For previous Ming goodness on HM's blog, see here.

Not with a bang but with a whimper

I'm largely done RE where I used to work, and am pretty much ready to start in the new area.

As I was taking my last box of crap away I realised I probably wouldn't see certain members of my now former management chain again before I start.

By rights I probably should have said good-bye. But given their churlish treatment of moi, passive aggressive hostility and manifest failure to actually manage or respond to my needs I decided against it.

So I snuck out.

Yes, I am admittedly pathetic. It was like leaving a breaking up group house and not saying good-bye to a flatmate.


This is not to blow my own trumpet. Thought I admit I do that now and then. But today when I borrowed the work car I noticed it was nearly out of fuel. The rule of thumb is that if it's down to a third you fill it up. Some of those involved in administering the car's admin are not pleasant people. They get upset when people don't do that. I easily could have returned the car without having done it. I wanted to in fact. But, no, I still went and filled it up. Why? Because it was the right thing to do.

Okay - it's a bit of a trumpet blow - but it would be nice if more people in the white collar world actually did the right thing.

How to feel like Ming

Tired of you and want to make a change? Want that ego boost you'd get as an intergalactic dictator?

Well want no more. Simply upturn your collar. As you can feel the material pressing on your neck and nape of neck hair, it is easy to imagine the other accouterments of Ming - such as a fu manchu goatee mo combo, baldness, sculpted eyebrows, minions, and a sexy daughter that you may or may not be diddling.

Forget Hammer Time - it's Ming time!

Ah Ming time. For when you need that quick ego boost.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Almost there ... stay on target

Still packing at work. Shifting to the new office shortly. People keep coming past to see how the packing is going. Or rather they walk past and ask how it's going, since I am on an arterial route through the work stations and they're doing that polite small talk thang.

And I am glad to be going. I needed a change, which was compounded by having a job I enjoyed. This way I get the change, still have my kewl job, and I can make all those corrections and changes I wanted that were fucking cock blocked by some in the previous management chain (not usually through not liking them - just through complete inaction).

Another wonderful thing about packing is that it can force you to decide what to keep and what to chuck.

And then again ... sometimes you keep the same stuff. I still have a manilla folder of "office art" that us drones from the mail registry made using the photocopier, scissors, and sticky tape from over 10 years ago, that's been dragged from desk to desk.

What can I say? It makes me laugh every couple of years I open the folder. Usually as a result of moving desk.

This makes my ... let me work this out ... ninth desk move since my time in the public service. That's right ... nine times.

Ed Rooney eats it.

Now that's anal

My toothbrush can get a little manky. I don't wash it clean. Well I do - the head - just not the shaft. As a result sometimes if I don't wash the shaft, the toothpaste slurry that runs down it can coat said shaft, then it hardens into a kind of crust.

It looks pretty gross. But, I'm a guy. So it doesn't matter to me.

Tonight, as I cleaned my teeth, I noticed my brush was nice and clean. I thought for a second it may be new - but the bristles were worn. So I asked theWife.

'Did you ... clean my toothbrush?'


Why? Because we had friends around and she was worried they might see it.

I call anal.


As you get older, you start to sag. I know this. I've never been blessed with a hot bod. So my sagging was minimal anyway thanks to an apple shaped tum.

But lately other bits have sagged.

For the first time, as best as I can tell, my balls now hang past my dick.

Apparently super old balls can get to nearly equidistant between knees and penis.

That's not a pretty sight I'd imagine.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

I love my toilet shelf

Recently we bought one of those metal frame over the toilet shelving things. We've put books and mags on it. When you're seated you can reach up over your head, feel around like a blind man meeting someone for the first time, grab a tome, and pull it on down for a read whilst waiting for some movement in your movements.

As an IBS of the stuck kind, it can often be a while.

Anyway, lately I've noticed an additional benefit of the toilet shelving.

When I eat I like to have an empty bladder. The same goes for awesome TV - not that I am eating it, when I am watching it. The TV - not the bladder. Indeed I can remember being so excited watching Buck Rogers in the mid 80's that my dad screamed at me for going to the toilet in every ad break. He thought I had a urinary problem. Uh-ah - just low grade OCD.

So it's often the case that when I am on the way to the study, with a delish meal in hand, I want to go potty so I achieve bladder empty before tummy fill happens. But then you have the whole backtrack problem of taking the meal to the study, then returning to the lav - or leaving the meal in the kitchen, then returning for it, and so forth.

But not any more - check it out. Toilet shelving can be used ... to host my meal while I go pee pee.

Sure it's weird having a tinkle whilst looking at the food you are about to receive but still, no back tracking. And I still wash my hands and all - and I carry the plate on the underside to avoid finger curl on the plate rim before said hands are clean.

Yes, toilet shelving. The storage solution that keeps on giving.

Jon Stewart is my hero

See the Dec 9 show where he takes on Mike Huckabee over gay marriage here.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Awesome Character Name

Two words.

Gob Knobbler

That is all.

Two shoes at Pres Bush

I can't be fucked linking to it, but you can go to You Tube to get the footage. Some Iraqi journalist pegging both his shoes as Pres Bush as an Arab world fuck you for all the shit Bush has done.

I have to wonder though. As Bush ducked the first shoe ... did he think it was an accident and it was only after the other shoe was thrown that he knew something had gone wrong?

Punked out

I'm moving area within my org soon, and spending my time packing etc and getting ready for the shift.

A while back I volunteered to perform an admin oversight role. It sits separate to normal chain of command. Basically it's to make sure people do the right thing the right way.

I noticed a senior member of the org was not doing the right thing the right way and called him on it. He gave some sort of whiny 'I thought it was legit' excuse - which clearly was not the case (I even sent him the link). But rather than cause a fuss I said that I would authorise a temporary rescinding of the rules to accommodate him in this case (and I do not have the power to do that). Provided he emailed the residents of the immediate area of the building to let them know.

His response?


Seriously. He sent back an email with NO in uppercase then proceeded to tell me how he wanted it done - to advise people via their team leaders instead of a broadcast email.

I was pretty pissed off. It was a direct affront not only to my authority but a slap in the face of the generous offer I had made to break the rules essentially to accommodate him.

My boss+, whom I attempted to enlist to fix this, did nothing. Even when I went into his office and asked. Nothing. I don't know why I expected anything different.

So instead of reading this senior person the law, or even resigning from the role and telling the relevant admin authorities what this person had done, I punked out and sent said communication to team leaders only.

I figure I am gone soon. No need to rock the boat and so forth. But ... I punked out and didn't have the stones to stand up for the role. I hate myself for that.

But I especially hate the management of this section I am leaving for their asking me to perform a role then not giving me any support when I attempt to do it. It's pathetic. No wonder no one wants to fucking do it when I go.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Chasing the tortise

Exercise and I have never really gotten on. When I was about nine I think I kissed sport adios courtesy of water on the knees. That, plus eating an entire block of cheese, Homer style, in one hit (once) + four rounds of honey toast each arvo after school, ballooned me into the man I have become. I've essentially been obese - in various gradations of porkery - ever since puberty.

The only physical activity I ever enjoyed was squash. Then I played Beve's friend G, one of those arse hats that's good at everything even though he's done it like once, and his method of playing to win made it less fun for me (forcing me to run around the court).

I remember reading an article about the governator about his childhood in Austria where he got so hard core about training he actually broke into the Gym on a Sunday so he could train. I also remember the article saying he got an actual endorphin rush off lifting weights.

Pshaw I said. A rush - from exercise ?! As fucking-if. I believe such as thing does not exist.

Well, this may sound a bit like a Oscar vehicle movie of a housewife, whose marriage dissolution, whether by a walk out or death,
caused a sexual awakening, but I think ... I had ... an exercise rush.

I power walked to the shops, listening to Discography (which is an excellent walking to album), and about 2/3 in I started to feel blissed out. Sure, I admit that I was also high on pain killers (I've had three today), but I wanted to keep going. I power walked around the shops fetching items then, standing in the express queue, bounced up and down to maintain some sort of movement. Then power walked out of the shops and back along the winding paths home.

I didn't even mind the incline bits. I kind of sailed up them. Area euphoria continued. Indeed, if I had not had to get cold stuff back home to the fridge, I think I would have kept going.

So, there you have it. I am on the north side of mid 30's, hated exercise all my life, am basically the shape of a misshapen potato, but I think I had ... for the first time in my life ... an exercise high.

Go me. I'm the fat little engine that could.

Bog watch III

I'm a bog watcher, in the sense I check that my leavings have left.

Tell me arm chair psychs out there. Is it disturbing that when I just checked said leavings that my first thought was 'wow, my turd fully looks like my cock.'?

I'm going to have a punt on a yes ...

Then, is it icing on the disturbing cake that I went and told the world about it?

God bless blogging, everyone.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Working on the weekend

With my soon to be going I had to hoob into work to have a crack at filing. I made some harsh choices and a lot of it is going into the bin. Hooray!

I decided to crank out some fauves (courtesy of the Beve who hooked me up with their goodness) out of the PC which helped it along.

I also took my shoes off.

It felt nice, socks on carpet. More peaceful. Happier. So if you have to work at work on the weekend and it's an office / during the week normal effort, go the shoes off.

I got a lot done. Pretty much organised I think. Though I still have to clean my workstation.

I remember Dr Karl said germs on your keyboard / workstation desk were likely x50 in number to that on a toilet seat.

Given the crud in my keyboard I suspect I am x100.

I pity the fool that takes over from me. In fact, when a likely candidate was in the area I demonstrated why she should not take my desk by pushing my computer box back.

The filth ring looked like a broadened U - the lines made up of food crumbs and dust bunnies.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Fare thee welled

Well, I had my bout of farewells this week given my soon to be departing on being transferred to another area.

We had an Xmas function that was supposed to be a combined farewell with the end of year festivities. Except ... it wasn't. D, whose also going, didn't get farewelled either. But ... he did get his lunch comped (the tradition in public service land is people cover your farewell food costs at your final hurruh) - and I had to pay for mine. Which was a little annoying.

So I admit post lunch, when walking back to the car with A & P I vented a tad about that. That and the whole not getting the arvo off which is the normal Xmas public service tradition. ie that post Xmas function you can fuck off for the rest of the day. We were expected to come back to work.

It was a bit Claytons to tell the truth.

However the next day I did get a farewell ... a coffee in the downstairs cafe where about half a dozen of us chatted for twenty minutes then had a 30 second 'well ... see ya!' coda for D and myself.

BUT ... while I didn't get a proper pressie (you typically only get a pressie if you retire or transfer out of a govt org) P had arranged something kewl. A farewell card ... in the form of a mini LED message delivering fan that lights up when the blades are turning. He'd spent sometime programming in the messages.

It was a deeply touching well thought out kooky pressie / card and I loved it. Of all the people left in the section he's the one I will miss the most (since A's already left :( )

One of the fan's messages was 'No Faux Pas'.

Later, back at the office, he said the 'No Faux Pas' wasn't advice.

'No mate, it was a lament. As in I won't get to enjoy your Faux Pas now you're leaving.'

What a beautiful thing to say.

Later, the senior people asked me to come along for their Friday drinks. This was so the Boss+++, the dude who I man-squished in the toilet door, could say some farewell words. They were nice. I liked the fact they mentioned that I was a doer in the workplace. As in emergency control, helping out with admin, social club - all that sort of stuff. Indeed, it almost made me feel bad I'd told the recently acquired grad to the area to 'never volunteer for anything.'

True to form however, I said something dodgy. During the social niceties chats over wine and chocolate covered strawberries (true story - that's how senior people have their snacks), the topic of staying skinny came up. Someone said 'if you want to stay thin all you can have in your fridge is water.'


' ... yeah and condiments ... and ... severed heads ... you know, like Jeffrey Dahmer.'

Yep, P is going to miss me.

Mikey's stream of consciousness riff on xmas

(as blurted at a co-worker)

'Hey check out all that tinsel ... it looks like a feather boa on a stripper ... I just want to rub it along my shoulders ... then perhaps some towling between the legs action ... but then you'd impregnate your sensitive parts with tinsel shards ... and have to go to casualty ... "I was naked and stepped out of the shower" ... but that doesn't explain the condom'.

An email uh-oh

From: L
Sent: Friday, 12 December 2008
To: (all staff in our branch)
Subject: Have you found a watch

Good morning,

I have taken off my watch and have now misplaced it - if you find a Citizen watch with a blue face/dark grey band could you please let me know - I would be very grateful....

Many thanks.

A few minutes pass, then ...

From: L
Sent: Friday, 12 December 2008
To: (all staff in our branch)
Subject: RE: Have you found a watch - I FOUND IT......... please don't ask where........doh

So L found her watch, and pinged a reply to all she sent it to with an amended subject line.


From: Me
Sent: Friday, 12 December 2008
To: L; (all staff in our branch)
Subject: RE: Have you found a watch - I FOUND IT......... please don't ask where........doh

"..... please don't ask where...."

Gold. My mind is afire with possibilities ...

Yes, that's right. I replied all instead of replied. It went to everyone on the list.

Holy crap on a crapping stick.

Thank gawd I am being transferred shortly...

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Fck dat shit

TheWife and I, tired of scales in the house that did us wrong, today unilaterally decided to 'fuck dat shit off'.

We binned them.

Take that metric devices!

No more will I pull out a scale and make myself feel bad. It's like Sarah said, it's the eating well and exercising that matters more health wise.

So area man following her advice.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

A stationary related MM

I've been doing some mailing today and ever since A moved desks, and took our envelopes with him, I've been raiding C's.

It was the third bout of my envelope pilfering, and I felt the need to go beyond a simple thank-you.

'Thank you for allowing me to access your treasured envelopes ... ' I started, somewhat grandiosely.

I then paused.

' ... oh wait, that just sounds wrong.'

You know - it didn't sound wrong until really, I said it sounded wrong.

Then it sounded very, very wrong indeed.

Later, my boss was headed to dump off old CD towers at the resource room dumping shelter (which has signs against dumping desk tat which everyone ignores).

I couldn't help myself.

'Nice R ...' I started. Then stopped, holding off joining R to Ack, Sesame Street style.

But, I burst out laughing and stopped her. 'I nearly said nice rack!' I blurted at her. Thus saying it anyway, but taking it down a notch from creepy to just stupid.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Full circle

When I started in the Public Service it was off the IQ test thingy anyone could sit. Many, many years now gone.

I moved to Canberra to go to uni and registered my score here. Towards the tail end of my full time uni year I was recruited off the score only and duly inducted into the Commonwealth public service.

In the induction talk from the HR dude he promised 'we will make full use of you. You will not spend your entire time just photocopying.'

My first week was spent shredding instead.

There were 10 modules you had to complete to go from trainee to level one as I recall. If you had prior life experience you could get recognition of prior learning - I think I got it for all of them. But some poor bastards actually had to go to TAFE to learn how to use a copier.

I shit you not.

When I joined I had an arse long pony tail. I pushed a mail trolley around. I cleared out slots and slotted in in slots. I filed.

So, so much filing. Indeed if there was down time you were supposed to pull a file and check that it was folioed correctly (a sheet on the inside of the file cover that listed each item and gave it a number).

It was mind numbing dross.

From there I was made a dispatch clerk (mail, all day - everyday). Until eventually I managed to win an acting three slot in a kewl job / area that meant I did lots of varied interesting stuff. A rare job indeed at that level.

For the past several years I have not really filed. 99% of my job is done electronically - so it means I rarely print anything - and typically only keep stuff that has a hard signature on it. Except I didn't file even that. I put it in a pile. A pile so large it was teetering in the cupboard and I had to do the quickopenchuckinclose to prevent it collapsing outward and spilling onto the floor like a giant papery money shot.

Alas ... my many years of not filing has caught up with me. As part of my getting ready to go ... I have to file the lot of it.

It's been fucked. Using a file drill (like a wood drill only for paper - whose drill gets blocked with the little paper circles and you have to bend out a paper clip to clear it). Filing, drilling, calling for new parts and so forth.

So, apart from the mail trolley, I've come full fucking circle.

All I can say is thank gawd for the paperless office. It's so, so much easier to manage.

Filing sucks the soggy biscuit.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Awful, awful pun headline

Howdy Santa

The View

I've been a bit meh the past few days, and haven't felt much like doing much. Thank-you IBS. I am at home today eating fibre by the mouthful - like when Rick, aka The People's Poet, attempted to commit suicide by gobbing laxatives (he thought they were something else) in the Young Ones.

Constipation meets farty pain isn't much fun to endure. Or, indeed, be around if in the danger zone.

Do you have that song in your head now? I know I do.

So yeah, at home, playing Warlords II, and grateful the pain pills are kicking in.

I am watching The View.

If you've lived under a rock, The View is a panel discussion talk show with guests and giveaways. The hosts are a series of prominent comedic style / interviewing journo women.

Day time TV mostly sucks anal hair. It does. It consists of Ian "Turps" Turpie spruiking funeral plans, infomercials, and other assorted members of a Whitman's sampler of shit.

The View ... is not this. It's actually entertaining and makes me laugh. Okay, I admit, I am in a lot of pain and have gobbled lots of fibre and pain killers. So my perceptions are slightly altered.

But ... as far as The View is concerned, and wearing my tertiary trained media hat (yes, that's right, I have qualifications in which to qualify my commentary - even if it is 10 years out of date), it rawks.

I'm not going to tape it and eagerly get all in my PJs, with a bowl of ice cream, and take the phone off the hook for it.

But if it's on I will watch it.

Go The View.

Oh - work update. I threw out about five years of old reports on Friday - reports that represent much of my career life. It was kind of bittersweet. However on Friday I managed to use, in a work context conversation, the words "engorged" and "pulsating".

Fellow workers of the world. Your challenge is to do the same. Please to be also providing context to your success/fail.

I bet Phoenix, aka FBR*, will just add them at the end of a normal sentence like she has tourettes.

*I suspect that if FBR was working in the days before the workplace was denuded (officially) of sexist and misogynistic behavior that she would be eagerly pursued by Phil the creepy mailroom man with a sprig of mistletoe during the Xmas season. The (presumably) saucy minx!

Friday, December 05, 2008

A George Moment

George (from The Burning")

George and Jerry are at the coffee shop. George is discussing trying to be funny in work meetings.

George: I had 'em, Jerry. They loved me.

Jerry: And then?

George: I lost them. I can usually come up with one good comment during a
meeting but by the end it's buried under a pile of gaffs and bad puns.

Jerry: Showmanship, George. When you hit that high note, you say goodnight and
walk off.

George: I can't just leave.

Jerry: That's the way they do it in Vegas.

George: You never played Vegas.

(later that episode)

Office meeting at Kruger Industrial Smoothing.

Kruger: ...And it gets worse. The team working on the statue in Lafayette
Square kind of over-smoothed it. They ground the head down to about the size of
a softball, and that spells trouble.

George: Alright, well why don't we smooth the head down to nothing, stick a
pumpkin under its arm and change the nameplate to Ichabod Crane?

Everyone at the meeting breaks out in laughter.

George (getting up and leaving): Alright! That's it for me. Goodnight


Mikey, recounting to M, L and P his meeting with the new bosses over at the new office, which didn't go that well (two of the three walked out part way through the meeting pleading "other business).

'Yeah, at that meeting yesterday, when I said 'my eyeballs will explode and leave dangling jelly bits', no one laughed.'

M, L and P laugh heartily.

Mikey waves hand theatrically and strides off quickly to go and get a coffee.

Yes, that's right. I went out on a high note. Tip your waitress.

A conversation

Me (in kitchen): Oh fuck it.

TheWife (when I get to the study): What was that about?

Me: Oh, I hate trying to get my Mp3 out of my pocket when the wallet's in there because it gets stuck under it. It's annoying.

TheWife: ... gay ...


Oh Nathan...

Maybe it's your perfect ponytail? Or the budding of your sideburns? Or the shy smile you have when you see me?

But I do like going through your checkout. What's that? Three days in a row? Twice on Sunday.

You know we have a connection. You know it! Don't make me wait out in the carpark for you...

And ... so forth.

(Area man has gone through the same pretty boy's checkout five times in a row. I admit however I went through tonight just to freak him out).

Thursday, December 04, 2008

Good old News Ltd

They're still holding the flame high for their vanquished preferred party of choice.

I heard Glenn Milne being interviewed on ABC News Radio this morning. The snitty Milne complained that the comparison of the sins of Gillard Vs Bishop were manifestly unjust.

I'm paraphrasing here but Milne whined that 'Gillard left 800 million out of her calculations for supporting IT infrastructure needed for the computer provision for schools and all Bishop did was forget to provide footnotes.'

The IT issue is a contentious one I admit. Although the States response has been the equivalent of a 17 year old being given a car from their parents then chucking a massive tanty when they've found out they'll have to pay for the running costs. It's a bit rich. The states don't have to accept the computers - and being states they're sticking their hands out for more dosh for the simple fact 'why not?' - the worst the Feds can do is say no. They'd be dumb not to milk the feds, after years of having Federal funding reduced in real terms from Howard middle class giveaways. Milne of course made it out that Gillard was personally responsible for an egregious error in budgeting when in fact it was a reasonable cost overrun given the complexity of the issues involved.

Bishop on the other hand has been caught out time and time again as a plagiarist. Not forgetting to add in footnotes. Lifting entire slabs of someone else's work and not providing accreditation to the point that the inference is the work is her own.

Considering she had the Education portfolio this is especially hilarious.

Of course facts don't matter to Milne et al. It's the interpretation of the facts that counts. The Oz is after-all not a paper of record - ie objective factual journalism. It's a behaviour modification inducer - influencing the government of the day to bend to the will of the corporation proper and business in general, because it's the latter that buys their paper and, more importantly, buys ad space.

We're all whores in our own way. I just dislike self important whores whose job is to be a little less whorish and more honest and who do the opposite.

Nice one Milne.

Oh yeah ... num num ... yeahyeah ... oh that's good

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Quantum of Solace

Saw it tonight with the Bevester.

Loved it. Much like Casino Royale in terms of theme, style of action etc. Adios quips and gadgets. Hello hard core brutal athletic style non stop action.

If you like action films that have a thinking component to it - or, indeed, acting - then you will like this.

Still ... probably should not have bought two choc tops.

Can you go by 4.30, 5 at the latest?

My boss, who recently traded me off to another area in the org, bounded in to my work station area and asked if I could be gone from the section by the above time. It was his hilarious way of asking me to organise it so my move to the new building happens before I go on Xmas leave instead of after it.

Ho ho ho. Most droll.

I feel so valued. I especially love it how they told me I did a good job with the last report that went out.

Oh wait, they didn't. The same way they didn't step in when boss+++ and I went toe to toe over content and it got super heated.

I am sick and tired of being made to feel what I do lacks value. It has immense value. I know it, and others know it. It would just be nice to hear them say it.

I got an email from my soon to be new boss. He'd included me in a communique to the rest of his section about having an Oz day BBQ at work. That's like seven weeks away - and I haven't even arrived there yet - and he took the time and effort to think of me and include me in their plans.

This transfer is going to be a good thing I think.

Unique furniture and garden ornaments eh?

I was on the bus today and noticed one of those garden centre places that so infest the ACT had the above sign (minus the eh?) proudly adorning their place of business.

I think they're struggling with the concept of "Unique". Unless they destroy each mold after use for their clay outside object de garden, or shred the plans of their furniture after the manufacture of one item, they're not unique.

I bet the owners are the sort of arse hat that says "literally" when they mean "figuratively".

And another thing, shops that offer Crazy prices. Your prices are only "crazy" if they have no basis in reality. For example if the both the number and currency are not real. 20% off is not a crazy price. Flerty Kusodiak-minky-minky dolats is.


Monday, December 01, 2008


In the medieval world, europe at any rate, trades were dominated by guilds. They determined the rules by which they worked, the skills taught, and who got accreditation. To be a master of a craft took a lot of years of work, creation of a masterwork item (that other masters recognised as being of sufficient quality), and likely some buttering up of the senior types as well.

Indeed some have theorised that Free Masons have their roots in the Stone Mason's guild, who allegedly had secret words and hand gestures so as to determine who on the building site were legit or not.

Nowadays anyone can call their business pretty much anything, and boast of skill levels they may or may not have - including that of "Master". It gets worse. Insert trade here + King has nothing to do with royalty, but chances are a crown motif will be incorporated into their branding. As a comedian I heard on Martin Malloy once noted Insert trade here + Aardvark is not an indicator of said animal being employed but is just a means to get the top name in the phone book because of Donkey Voter yellow book users.

Whilst on the bus this afternoon, engaging in some light Air Jabeling (singing silently along to Tenacious D's Tribute and doing the expressions / gestures as per Jack Black from the film clip), I noticed a van go past at the roundabout.

The van belonged to 'The Framing Master'.

In addition to guilds, the Master title has been embraced by popular fiction in relation to martial arts "cults". 'Hard Master' and 'Soft Master' for example were members of Storm Shadow's Ninja family from the GI Joe comics.

Naturally this is the first thing I thought of. They should totally use this as their branding.

Mikey's work day

I am easily bored at work. Some say it's sign of genius. Others - ADD*. Being easily bored means I am likely to do things or say things that entertain only moi - or possibly my desk buddy A.

A brief highlight

* I tried to get people to celebrate Festivus instead of the public workplace semi-embrace of Xmas (Santas + jolly decs = yes; Christ on the cross / in a manger = no). I snipped the Festivus wiki and pumped it out as a PDF. None of the sassy girls around the corner reacted to it. The email text announced that I was happy to bring in my own pole (the equiv of the tree in the festivus mythos). As K was leaving she admitted she had not read the PDF but expressed, in all seriousness, in seeing my pole. Gold baby.

* I found a dodgy midget (or midgit if an FSMee) plaster Santa statue that had invaded my first aid cupboard and made it hard for me to insert the kit. I stuck the Santa in an A4 photocopy lid, swaddled his lower half in bubblewrap, then left him on L's chair along with a note from a Santa abandoning parent who lacked the ability to cope with the responsibility of raising Saint Nick. The accompanying note warned L that Santa would give her shit away, including shoving it down a chimney and that Santa would attempt to harness push along cars to any dogs present and make them his reindeer bitches. Somehow L knew it was me...

* As I was stapling, crud fell out of the gap between the stapler plastic covering and the metal staple inducing innards. I was so impressed I ran around to show P my lump of stapler crud. He accused me of showing him a lump of my ear wax. Only the crud was hard and crusty so it would have had to fossilize. This lead to a free range conversation where I told P about my ear op from earlier this year (search for Ear if interested). I told him how recently my six month check up lasted approx one minute and cost $100. We mused about what sort of other jobs offered such money for time spent rewards. Then, the subject of my awesome seed came up (ho, ho). During fertility treatment it was discovered that I packed some super swimmers (the gyno's words). I was thinking about going into the parenting rec folder at work and announcing I was open for business. Both P and I then realised that was another $100 for one minute's work profession right there...

I'm going to miss these guys...

*Indeed I was taken off sugar for four years because they thought I was hypo - and likely a candidate for Ritalin had it existed back then.

** What is it with Jesus and being co-located with wood? All his seminal on earth moments have involved plantlife; wooden manger / wooden cross / crown of thorns.