Thursday, February 16, 2012

Now that's a drive-by

As semi-frequent readers of this blog are aware when I used to go on a daily walk I would occasionally cop a torrent abuse from a passing carload of bogans. And, being bogans, with not much else to go on apart from how I looked their abuse was centred around my size and its apparent similarity to a lady's pleasure entrance. 

This happened so frequently that if I saw an early model car or one with P-plates and the shadows within suggesting multiple occupancy I would half-expect it as they hoobed past. Indeed, so seemingly frequent were the attacks (1) I coined the Mikeyism of Drive-By-Boganing to describe them.

Anyway, that doesn't happen any more. If it did, and they went past my shed window where I cycle, I would be more worried about their vehicle having crashed through my fence and potentially into the house than any insults directed at my larger-sized vaginal-themed person.

Yesterday, St Valentine's Day, the hunted became the hunter. Only it was inside the workplace and delivered from my person rather than my person in a car.

I was walking near B---'s workstation. B--- is a tad crusty. He's an older guy, set in his ways. We've had occasional butting of heads but for the most part he's okayish.  Though as far as the live-and-let-live mindset of today's yoof goes he probably doesn't subscribe to their typically held acceptance of differing gender identities and sexuality.

Anyhoo B--- was receiving advice or instruction from the tall Canadian contractor. I don't know the guy's name, or indeed what he is contracted to do, but clearly his role somehow intersected the role that B--- performs.

Being a tall, and with no spare seats around, the tall Canadian was down on one knee next to B---.

As I strode past the entrance to their pod (2) of workstations I yelled out 'I hope he says yes!'

I didn't hang around to gauge their response, after-all it was a drive-by, but in my heart of hearts I know that was some funny arse shit to say on St Valentine's day. 

(1) It seemed frequent but then I recorded all of them on the blog and I bet if I did a search there would only be half a dozen or so. But that's what we do. We magnify the unlikely events to mask perhaps fear of the likely. We fear the shark that will almost certainly never kill us but not the super-sized meal that will eventually hasten our death. Humans; we're just nutty!
(2) Yes, we call clusters of workstations, typically four to a cluster, a pod. Does it sound like the future?!  

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