A Day in the Life of...

Tuesday 24/06/03
Morning:
'Micah drinks poo_ juice & sucks cok & licks balls.'
These are the words, written in soap, that obscures my reflection in the mirror. Last night Micah's dozen or so workmates from Blue Train descended upon 38 Melrose after work, and in an orgy of drunkenness, Mario-Karting, snack eating, pot smoking, Anime-watching frenzy, left the house in the shambles that I found it. The "warrior-poet" responsible for the hauntingly beautiful ode to my housemate is, I suspect, Flip (who has denied this). But he has already left the building for an appointment at the tattooist to colour in the rest of his arm, an arm that is resembling a multi-coloured jigsaw of Japanese kanji and fish.

I had a surprisingly good nights sleep, considering the ruckus of Monday night- having excused myself from the partying, I went to my bedroom and promptly barricaded myself inside, using a couch to thwart attempting intruders. I had an empty bottle of Malibu next to me, on the off chance that someone would eventually get past the first line of defence. In the event that anyone did get in there would be a large THWACK! as a 700ml bottle of protected glass smacked the foolish individual to the temple causing significant pain, brain damage or possibly even death. There would be several uninterrupted hours of sleep before the Homicide Squad would barge down the door, precious time for yours truly to gather his wits and overnight bag- then make his escape. I hear Mexico is nice at this time of year.

Night: What started as a generally typical night at the bar(ie, thinking maybe I should arrange the garnish in alphabetical order) was propelled deep in the realms of the Hugh Heffner dimension when a couple of young lesbians dragged me into the bathroom for some "naughtiness". Anyone who has known me for any priod of time knows also my creedo of 'don't kiss and tell'. I have had girlfriends for months without anyone realising but...I've forced you guys to read my boring weekly crud so it's time to waive that particular thing in the interest of my column.
These giggling girls had arrived fairly late at night..around a quarter to 11 I suppose and asked me to join in on their celebration. Cue 70's era bass. After several rounds of shots, which I put on my tab 'cos I'm a nice guy, they said 'Come join us in the bathroom. It's worth getting fired for.' Have all those nightly prayers I made when I was 16 finally come true? I lost my power of speech around this point, but I nodded. A lot. O.K., so apart from a bit of kissing and hugging nothing much else happened, but I do have eye witnesses and security camera tapes that will verify my unrealistic claims. The erotic escapade made me reach for my keys, money, mobile phone- nothing stolen. I didn't wake up in an ice-filled bath without a kidney. They left, promising to return later- never did. Still, I felt like God's favourite son and longing for the beautiful day that would be tomorrow.

Life is Jam-tastic!
Fatman

2 Fat 2 Furious

On Channel 9, Tuesday, there is to be a 'National Driving License Test' much like the I.Q. test that we had last year. While I didn't partake in that event hosted by Cat Roundtree and the omniprescent Eddie Everywhere, I was told that many of the viewers felt a lot dumber than when they woke up that morning. While I realise some of you out there are overseas and will not glance at the show and some who would not watch some mind-numbingly boring show, it begs the question; What kind of a driver am I? By that I don't mean me, but you.

The Playstation Geek: (eg. Micah J.McLean) All you know about driving is the stuff you picked up whilst playing Grand Theft Auto. All the road rules you know are American, you tend to fiddle around with the radio without looking at the road and when being chased by police you look around the dashboard for a 'reset' button.

I just knew I could find parking

The Kind and Caring Driver: (eg. Pollard El Cheeso) You obey all road rules, know that to 'drink and drive' makes you a bloody idiot and help people move on Sundays even when you don't want to. Unfortunately, people tend to be selfish and think you are some sort of a taxi service to be called upon everytime they want to lug a fridge from one end of the Melways to another. Oh, and this is completely non-driving related but a conversation worth repeating to everyone I know 'cos it was funny at the time.
Pols: Yeah, I'm thinking about going overseas maybe. France or...Wisconsin.
Me: Wisconsin?
Pols: Wisconsin. The American Mid-West.
Me: Why? Witness relocation program?
Pols: Nah man. There's a lot of cows in Wisconsin.
(Pols is like the maestro of the dairy industry, currently gainfully employed too.)
Me: Boy Howdy! Sure are a lot of cows in Wisconsin.

The Careless Driver. (eg. Matt Sanger) You 'borrow' vehicles from 'friends' and drive down the backroads of Prahan the wrong way in the early hours of the morning. Road rules are kind of like suggestions to you, rather than strict rules enforced by people who can shoot to kill in extreme circumstances.

The Jenkins. (eg....Jenks) You can drive hungover at high speeds seemingly oblivious to other cars and pedestrians, slowing down only to open another bottle of beer or to yell abuse at other drivers- many of them cabbies.

The Minnie Driver. (eg the horribly unfunny Fatman) You tend to fail anything you try in life- driving tests being just one of those things. The only way you get anything done is when there is enough alchohol in your system to stun a baby ox,when your long lost animal instinct kicks in. You tend to swerve from lane to lane when changing radio stations.

Should you be driving home tonight,
Fatman

Musings of a Fat, Lazy Rat

It's exodus baby. My time on Queensberry street is finally coming to an end.
Maybe it's sheer laziness, but more often than not I find myself being the last rat to desert sinking ships. The largely spontaneous (sp?) move was prompted by "Fly-by-Night" Jimmy the Swede, who pulled out and left the country without paying rent. The girls are seriously considering leaving without paying, which would mean that the hot potato will firmly be in the mitts of yours truly.

This is why I loathe to put pen to paper to sign anything. Forms, lease agreements, petitions, statutory declarations, etc. etc. Most things have a price. Not that being hounded by debt collectors, loan sharks and repo men doesn't carry with it a certain, romantic, white-trash charm but... I'm sure there's got to be a downside to watching your back, steering clear of major cities and faking your own death every decade or so.

Some things to do before leaving;
1. Hock the rest of Jimmy's furniture. A pitiful collection- a pair of boots, a Nathan Buckley poster ( we're using that as a dart board at the moment), a chair, a Milan Kundera novel.
2. Give the fridge a decent "burial". This white beast is truly on its last legs. The only humane thing to do is to cram it with C4 and detonate the bastard. Send it to White Goods Heaven.
3. There is a mouse that has more lives than Fidel Castro. It has survived numerous assasination attempts- maybe it would be polite to leave him some food- a nod to the nigh on immortal rodent adversary that has made Stacia's life a living hell (Her piercing shriek has woke me up from numerous deep slumbers).

On Moving in with Micah- the brother from another mother:
There will be a drop in the level of conversation. At Queensberry we discuss politics, enviromental issues (yawn), education, censorship, literature, yadda, yadda, yadda. With Micah we tend to talk about when best to use a "red shell" on Mario Kart 64. The fact also that there will be three lads living under the same roof. Currently there is a Ying/ Yang, 50-50 female to male ratio which balances the testosterone/ estrogen content of the household. The last time I entered an 'all-male' household our sanitary habits deteriorated, laughter was has, a band was formed. Then the inevitable. Women were involved, the band broke up, people left angrily, guys got married, moved to Canada. What the hell is wrong with people? I'm not saying 'fuck 'em, feed them fruit loops' but... I digress.
To those who have, or about to take the plunge sober I say watch 'Old School' currently playing at a cinema near you.

Laugh loud, Love your friends, picture eternity as a near-death moment,
Fatman