So my last post was pretty much on the mark really. Old Ruddy didn’t last much longer after that post.
No wonder really. He’s screwed everything he’s touched as far as I’m concerned. With a federal election approaching on August 21 I have decided to buy a flash set of colouring pencils and colour in the boxes on my ballot paper.
I’m in Kevin Rudd’s seat. I dislike him. I will never vote Liberal. I hate the Greens. I can’t stand kooky independents and hate preachy religious candidates.
I have nobody to vote for – so therefore I will hold my colouring-in pencils high and proud.
Suddenly I have found myself with a fair bit of time on my hands after we had our first child. He was born 4 weeks ago and while you have an infant in the house there are many hours of just hanging around in the case that they need a feed, change or a quick session of CMT (for some reason he likes the sound of well plucked banjo – yes, he is definitely a real Queenslander).
So there’ll be most likely quite a few more posts here and possibly a new design and new direction. For those that don’t know I have my own small business – CITYGREEN – and I treat this blog as a testing ground for new site design.
There most definitely will be a few very nasty rants about politics coming soon. Especially about Kevin “Krudd” Rudd, Australia’s answer to Mao Zedong and his opposite Tony “Mad Monk” Abbott, Australia’s answer to Jimmy Bakker.
Enjoy blogs like this while they are still free to read on the web. Very soon the almighty overseers of our lives in Canberra will ban anything that challenges conventional thought. Pricks.
Phew.
I’ve become a father. I used to think I was tough bugger until I helped my wife go through 17 hours of labour before she had an emergency c-section with 15 minutes notice – and yes, I couldn’t help but peek over the curtain to see my lovely wife’s insides.
She is the tough bugger, not I.
Joe didn’t have an ideal start to life. He didn’t breathe on his own for 3 minutes or so but was fed loads of oxygen and has been in an ever decreasing level of care (from acute down to barely any cables and sensors hanging from him as of tonight).
He seems to like boobies, which is good. He takes after me in that sense. I prefer my milk from a cow via a plastic bottle though.
There’s an incredible feeling of respect for human life after being given the responsibility of looking after your own child. There’s also an incredible respect held for the 20 or so medical staff who directly helped my wife so professionally in one of the best operated hospitals here in Brisbane.
More later.
My wife was due to have a baby yesterday.
He doesn’t want to come out.
We went to the hospital for a regular check-up and the midwife was pretty sure that the little fella will be in there for another week. Why would you want to come out of a nice warm spot anyway? Hell – with all the ice creamy goodness he’s been getting via his umbilical cord I’d be staying there too.
The cot’s ready. There’s cloth nappies drying all over the house. The cat cannot be stopped from sleeping in the pram…the waiting game continues.
The last few weeks have been interesting in our little part of the world here. The good lady and I had a friend from Proserpine (1000km away) stay over for a weekend so she could see the AC/DC show which blew through Brisbane last weekend. It must’ve been loud because even though we’re 6km from the stadium it was held at, we could hear it clearly on both nights (Thurs 25th Feb and Sat 27th Feb).
Bea (my lovely wife) is 33 weeks pregnant too and we’ll become parents anytime in the next 6 – 7 weeks. It’s pretty exciting to say the least!
It’s been as hot as hell here is Brisbane lately. Although the heat has been tempered by some cloudy and rainy weather, the humidity just wreaks havoc on my underpants. I hate sweaty bumcrack weather!
My other half is finding it difficult too. Most likely because she is 29 weeks pregnant and having her insides kicked like a football for a good part of the day. Cool showers and cable tv are keeping her sane along with my tofu, fake bacon and mushroom salads.
Fake bacon. I’m a big fan now. It tastes better than real bacon and is easy to clean up after – no fat. All you have to do is add a few rubber bands while the ‘facon‘ is cooling and it is just like eating the rind. Mmm rind.
It’s been a good decade.
I started out single and drunk and ended up happily married and well, a wee bit less drunk. I started out renting in Clifton Hill, Melbourne and now am paying off a house in Annerley, Brisbane – didn’t see that coming! I started the decade taking orders from a dickhead of a boss – now I don’t have a boss. But some things don’t change.
Hair is still on my head approaching the late 30s, I still have crazy pet in da haus (it was a mad dog 10 years ago – now it’s a mad cat that thinks its a dog) and I still maintain a blog which started in April 2001.
Yes, blogs are SO 2001.
And I thought Brisbane was bad enough.
It seems wowsering has hit the city of love.
I haven’t been to a zoo in a long time. As far as I can remember I have only visted a zoo twice in my life. Alma Park zoo north of Brisbane when I was 9 or 10 years old and Melbourne zoo about 8 years ago. I always remember my visit to Melbourne zoo because the woman I was seeing at the time was shitting me particularly badly and I actually seriously considered throwing her to the tigers. I’m glad I didn’t. We broke up a week or so later.
A quaint 1950s British tea party for poor Chimpanzees. Note the chains! They must really love their tea parties!
Even though I go on and on about how much I hate Brisbane and want to return to Melbourne, I do really dig my local area. It reminds me more of Melbourne than any other part of Brisbane in fact.
I think it’s a mixture of many things that make me admire my suburb. Annerley. Among the charming aspects (to me anyway) is the number of different languages I hear when I go to the greengrocer, the sight of old elderly men who hang outside the local shops drinking cheap wine in plastic cups and the old Aboriginal man who spins a new story every Saturday morning in exchange for $1.
The old Aboriginie is my favourite. One Saturday morning he cornered me while coming out of the bottleshop with a six-pack. He spun me a tale about how he hasn’t had a ‘feed’ in 24 hours and that a spare $1 wouldn’t go astray. I told him that I’d buy him a Subway ‘veggie delight’ for $3.95 and he told me in no uncertain terms to fuck off.
The next week he saw me walking and tried to hide behind a post. I asked him if he wanted a beer and he walked away. So I bought my Saturday morning six-pack and added an extra. As I walked out of the bottleshop I called out to him and gave him a Coopers stubbie. I told him to stop telling me bullshit stories and I might just help him out when he asks.
So, every Saturday morning I have a 10am car park drink with a 65 year-old native man who tells me all sorts of stories. Stories about family, stories about his childhood in western New South Wales, stories about good experiences and the not-so-good.
Feel free to come and join me one fine Saturday morning.
Yay!
John Howard’s gone. He’s been gone for almost two years now. But now we’ve got another career bureaucrat in charge of the world’s largest hick town, Australia.
Listen carefully to what our much beloved Prime Minister says when he speaks. He regularly manages to say nothing within the confines of three, no four sentences, especially in parliament! He has a true gift of the gab – he must’ve kissed the blarney stone in Ireland at some point. I mean, any wanker who can say “detailed programmatic specificity” obvoiusly has nothing to say and expects people to not know what he is talking about in any context.
Another well discussed example of Kevin Rudd’s inabilty to speak English is this sentence, “Let’s be blunt about the order of priorities here. One is a set of actions agreed to by the international community which minimise the impact of coastal inundation as we minimise the impact of climate change but taking the mitigation measures that are outlined in the possible contents of a new framework agreement and the various national actions to be undertaken here in Australia.” What the….
I used to be a Labor voter but am now a nothing voter. Not even a swinging voter. I just don’t care anymore. The bastards can’t even communicate let alone make sensible decisions that are meant to make our lives easier and more enjoyable.
We are told where to smoke cigarettes. Where and when to drink alcohol and whether it should be consumed out of plastic or glass. We are fined for leaving our car unlocked, our dog off a leash in a massive park or riding a bicycle without a piece of foam and plastic on our heads. We pay tax in order for politicians to get pay rises while we have our hours cut. We get told we are polluting the earth too much with our overuse of cars and lounge room lights, then a wise politician approves the development of a new coal mine and then drives off in a chaffeur driven V8 limo.
I’m sorry. I’ve turned into a terribly cynical ranting machine.
It has to be one of the best rants I have ever read.