Wee Willy whimpers

First of all, how do you spike your own drink? 

Now, I have thought about this... obviously... and, surely, there needs to be an element of surprise to spiking one's drink or what's the point? Did he put the shit in his drink and then forget, and then was surprised? That would certainly qualify as a "whoa, what the hell is going on here" trip by which time you've moved onto getting yourself off. And how long after that is it you trip into methodical mode and ensure you take yourself off home safely - you know, in case there's any weirdos about? " 

He didn't spike his own drink. Well, he did only not in the traditional sense. He used it as an experiment to accelerate some rather unusual sexual tendencies and if caught, could blame his outer ego (or inner child, or multiple personalities) for "making him do it." They have to start somewhere, right?

What is worrisome is, where to from here?

Road Trip - part 2 (Navigation)

You never really get a sense of how big Australia is until you leave the house. 

Day one of our Road trip was a wee test really. The aim was to drive the car to McDonalds, just up the road and take delight that we need not leave the comfort of our seats. Yes, we would eat like Kings! Finally! Oh the power! When, in reality, we knew we would eat crap food, feel ill, and return home but that was the goal, and goals are goals. 

Pulling out from a stationary position into oncoming traffic was not one of my smartest moves but the quick, stealth-like, turn of slipping down a slip road was ingenious, albeit, within two nanoseconds we found ourselves a little way off our intended route. Not to worry; we were both armed with our mobile phones and each had an exact replica of a man who dishes out directions in a bored monotone.... "In 500 meters, take the third exit off the....." 

Off the what, the roundabout, the planet, the what - I'm fucking here now!" 

Another tactical manoeuvre later, and we're in Rockdale. Now, look, I know there is about 10 kms of misinformation that took place during that time, otherwise we'd not be here, right? But surely, sure as the night turns to day, there's a McDonalds here!

We did see one. In fact, we saw quite a few on our trip. You never really get to appreciate just how much that organisation has infiltrated civilisation until you pass by five or six stores, all on the other side of a four-laned highway. And yes, I said highway for the obvious reason - we were bloody well on one! 

Lauren's suggestion, to just stick to the right-hand lane at all costs, would have logically brought us back in a 360-degree angle, and from there, well, we could just go home really. But no, that mother-knows-best thing was in full swing - I have not travelled the whole entire planet to be fooled by stupid logic! 

I blame the street lighting or should I say, the lack of - really, it's like they want you to plough a million-miles-per-hour into a brick wall just so they can justify the cost of safe driving campaigns. Or worse, they make four lanes merge into two and give you a five second decision-making zone  - now should I allow Lauren to take one half of the car in THAT direction while I check out what's on this side? Really?

Our goal had changed. Food was no longer a priority - survival was. Oh, and the fact that under no circumstances were we to end up in Sydney's CBD, which is exactly where NAVMAN took us!

Look, I like the CBD just as much as the next person but I prefer the view from a stationary standing upright position and only cause I know I get distracted when I look up. I don't have time to make mature decisions like, where the fuck is the car going? And I sure as hell don't have time for repetitive statements that only deepen in intensity the more you say it - Is this a one way street? It IS a one way street? And Sydney is a city that never fucking sleeps! There's people and pedestrians, some are both - cars and trucks and trains and planes, all these people going here and there and no bastard giving a flying shit whether we get McDonalds!

By now all I want is a wine. Lots of it. Yes, it's true. I have found me, yet another, trigger but of course, common sense kicks in - driving while drinking wine out of a broken-down cask is just plain tacky and you have to keep both hands on the steering wheel anyhow. 

You'll be pleased to know we did find McDonalds. Oh alright, McDonalds found us. It was about a two minute walk from work by which time we needed to pee anyhow so the plan was foolproof really.

This road trip is going to be a breeze! 

Road Trip - part 1

Was asked: "How was the trip?"

Well, it had good bits and then there were some not so good bits, and in the middle, well, it was undetermined - could've gone either way, really.

The concept of roughing it, camping out under the stars, was appealing at first, until reality set in. 

We had hoped to see some of the wildlife. Not so sure they were that thrilled to see us and they might have shown some of that animosity right about the time I contemplated a stretch of Yoga under the Southern Stars as an ideal and somewhat earthy thing to do. You get karma brownie points for doing that shit, you know!

Anyhow, ended up having a glass (or four) of wine in a somewhat freaked-out-upright position wondering whether Kangaroos had seen the Slenderman game and Lauren and I were just their Saturday night playthings. Lauren kept yelling out random brainwaves like "Get the letters!" - thinking it would encourage my agility skills as I hightailed it to the toilets conveniently situated in the direct flight path of what can only be described as "Kangaroo Ganglands" a million miles due south of the car.

But don't be fooled. Being inside an 'open-for-all' semi closed concrete box with your pants around your ankles does not fill one with a sense of relief. No! Instead, you are made acutely aware of all those YouTube videos of three-foot spiders under toilet seats and coiled snakes in the bottom of sinks. I stayed longer than I needed cause I wasn't sure I had finished - peeing out of necessity or sheer terror is a hard concept to break down in a hurry.

My own immediate thought at the time was I had to return to the car to fight off the kangaroos who were by now (I was sure!) munching on the last remains of my only child. The fear of having to explain that to the Authorities was enough to propel me back towards the car, very much imitating a kangaroo on speed and with no obvious sense of direction. 

The look of sheer horror on Lauren's face, as I neared the darkened windows of the car, made me think.... she is either taking her last breath (fucking kangaroos) or I am scaring the shit out of her myself. After a lot of high-pitched words were flung about the inside of the car, none audible to humans, it was unanimous: I was not a suitable candidate for outdoor living and we had to move closer to civilisation before I really hurt myself. 

...to be continued

Yes, well I survived the Australia's hottest day on record. The picture does no justice. It takes walking around in the searing heat to truly understand. A few days before, when the temperature reached 45 degrees, I likened it to walking around with a blow-dryer on full blast directly in your face. The only way to survive that day was to dash into the local trendy book store, grab any old classic, and act conflicted about purchasing in a speedy exchange for free air-conditioning.

I thought that was bad enough but Friday was even hotter - 46.3 degrees and more if you were unfortunate to be stuck on a train platform for 40-forking-minutes - delayed cause (get this!) the overhead wires were "melting". 

To put it into perspective, I bought 12 bottles of water from a store and put them in the freezer. The theory was I was going to get healthy and drink one of the little suckers every day. When the heatwave arrived, I considered myself well prepared. I took one bottle (half a litre) out of the freezer and plopped it into my handbag. It weighed a tonne. By the time I reached the station and waited for the train - a mere 30 minutes (at THAT stop) it had bloody well melted. 

Having said that, I appeared to the unsuspecting onlooker, as a well prepared traveller and for a while there, I felt guilty at not sharing my prized possession. To tell you the truth, I hate water. I shouldn't. It's the best thing since sliced bread when your gasping for fluids. I'm just a little late in realizing that. But that day, I used it as an immediate respite, like an ice pack, against the searing sun's effect on my skin - it truly was like standing in front of a heater, only it was 360 degrees of heat and once you eased the burn on one part of your foot, or shoulder, or neck or..... you went back to the foot, the shoulder, the neck...it was a full-time occupation - like someone suffering from silent tourettes and a frenzied body rash.

I moaned like shit in New Zealand about the weather and how I couldn't wait to be continuously warm. I yearned for warmth. I dreamed about it. I guess, it's true what they say: "Be careful what you wish for"... right?

Take a right, here...

Yes, a profound thought.... reminds me of a saying:

"If you put your ladder against the same wall, don't expect  a different view"

Or something like that. Actually, it was nothing like that but you get my point. You're smart, right?.

No, what I am trying to say - very badly - is I am sick and tired of writing what I think I should write. (VISUAL) ...Eye balls rolling.... (my eyes, that is).... followed by deep heavy sigh..... 

I will continue to write about ACC and my somewhat tragic experience with them and, more so, the events that made me HAVE to deal with them, but today, as I sat on a bus overhearing conversations about life, I thought - I want to write, just write - write about things that tickle my fancy, things that have made me weep with laughter, things that are sometimes so UN-PC that, that is what is funny. I want to write about the people that enter my life, sometimes, thankfully - very briefly, and the comments they make that can turn your morning, travelling to work on an overcrowded bus, just all the more brighter - the nuances of language and how, yes, it can be literally, lost in translation, and how, that can just bring a smile to your face when you least expect it.... 

I guess I am asking those that have looked at my blog for that "RA-RA Anti-ACC" rant to also realize that we (myself included) are not defined by our experience with them. There is so much more to us than that. To focus only on ACC is like pointing out the colour red in a landscape - it makes everything else, all the other colours, detriment to what the image is, as a whole. ACC can remain red - a rather fitting colour - but let's not neglect the other parts of who we have become: the blends, the hybrids, the combinations of colours/experiences that have made us the complete portrait of who we now are, and ..... lets stand proud in our colourfulness.

I'll go first.

Enya