Strictly demo quality. Enjoyment will depend on whether you enjoy lo-fi folk and/or general silliness.

Love Is A Shit Of A Thing

While the wife was trying on bras in a maternity shop yesterday, I was in the bottle shop next door, scratching my patchy stubble and staring at bottles of Scotch and wondering what they tasted like. Yes, rather than the usual indulgence of peeking through curtains for a glimpse of skin (that’s normal, right?), I was tenderly touching bottles and reading labels like they were poetry.

I am curious about the drink, its origins, and my own reasons for drinking the bloating and burp-inducing beer on most occasions instead of something more refined and delicious. There is a culture here that equates the consumption of beer with manliness, so much so that at the age of eleven I stole a beer from Dad’s fridge and forced myself to drink it alone with my dinner, despite the protests of my palate and my very small stomach. The beer ruined my dinner and was pointed at and cursed, set aside and earmarked to be poured down the sink later and the evidence destroyed.

Of course, that’s not to say that beer is bad, or undelicious, it’s just that my eleven-year old self preferred to eat that horrid plastic cheese folded into squares, and drink chocolate milk rather than drink something bitter. I’m guessing that’s the grand thing about acquired tastes like oysters, and beers, and chili, and olives, and sushi and all those lovely adult things, that the young ones will leave you alone long enough to enjoy it, and all you need to do to get rid of them is offer them a taste.

So certain things have become clear to me; that blue cheese is strangely delicious, and that good wine is equally delicious if you can afford it, and that the two together are quite the pair if you’ve got the brass razoos to rub between your bony fingers. A good book is also delicious if I can force myself to read it instead of watching Seinfeld, and Scotch on the Rocks is refined and delicious and it beckons to me from the cupboard on certain nights when the mood is good in the lounge room.

Sometimes, blogging is about getting things off your chest. I might even say this blog is my therapist. (Note: this word can also be read as the rapist). So, in summary, sometimes blogging provides you with therapy, and sometimes it rapes you.

Remember how I used to live in a shed? Remember? Well, after we moved out of the shed, we rented it to a little man. The man agreed to give me $90 a week in exchange for sitting in the shed and smoking cigarettes or whatever he does in there. This agreement worked quite well for a few years, until the little man stopped giving me $90 a week.

So now I have a headache, and a little man that owes me money, in fact, quite a bit of money. If he doesn’t pay me by Monday we’re going to serve him an eviction notice. Ouch!

Stupid non rent-paying tenant! Why must you torment me?!!!!1

P.S. you owe me a bottle of Scotch.

In other news, last month I went here and rented an apartment with all my boyfriends. We drank whiskey and played poker and pointed and laughed at farts. It’s true, farts are funny! Don’t try to deny it.

Then, we went here on a camping trip with family. There was less laughing at farts but more reading and walking and swimming. I drank lots of delicious coffee and bought a flat cap, which is sometimes incorrectly referred to as a derby cap.

INTERESTING FACT  - derby caps taste almost exactly the same as flat caps.

Thus concludes today’s web log. Tune in next week for an interpretive dance of today’s web log, animated using pieces of string and toenail clippings.

In the future, Chinese soldiers will ride into battle on invisible chairs and destroy us. I’m stocking up on tins of baked beans.

I’ve long been obsessive about music, rating my tracks and albums, working out the averages and putting together ‘Top 20′ lists and so on. There is obviously something incredibly nerdy about this, but it’s music related so it’s also cool. Isn’t it? Let’s just say there were certain parts of High Fidelity which were written about me.

Anyway, if you combine my website development ability with my album rating obsession and my occasional music review-writing, you might end up with some sort of nerdy music website. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten in the planning, and at this stage it will probably just serve as a place for me to keep my nerdy lists and rant about music.

As to whether anybody would be actually interested in reading the thing is another question. But at this stage the site would be more for personal enjoyment, which is a pretty good business plan I reckon.

Well, the response to my blogging comeback has been amazing! Thank you so much to everybody who wrote in, phoned in, rode in, got stoned and drove in, wore their robes in, and sent their bones in. You make it all worthwhile! I am chewing on one of your bones and wearing one of your robes right now. Your bones are tasty.

Also, a note to Ms. R. Winchcombe of Derry, Ireland - thank you for the woolen cardigan you knitted me! Even though you forgot to put arm holes in, I have been wearing it constantly. You would be surprised at how many times you have saved me from accidentally biting or burning my fingers off!

Right now I am sitting beside the fireplace in my favourite leather chair, which occasionally makes creaking noises not unlike the passing of wind. I am wearing a derby hat, smoking a pipe, and stroking my pet wolf. I gaze quietly out my window, and the night is still and dark like a thick blanket. The full moon hangs in the sky like a supple, milky breast, and I am suddenly thirsty. Soon I will retire to my boudoir and brush my golden locks, all the while thinking of lost love and other such girlish fancies.

Yours Truly,

Reclusive Genius

P.S. I have just realised I do not own a pet wolf, and that I may be in grave danger. Please send help immediately.

Enjoy.

Cheese Wheel

Just like when the Jews were chased out of Egypt by Hitler and his pack of chariot-driving werewolves, I have served my time in the wilderness and am ready to enter the ‘promised’ land of locusts and honey. I must say, a locust and honey burger sounds very tempting right now.

On a less religiously controversial point, I have a new stapler. It is shiny and black.

More information on staplers:

“A stapler is a simple mechanical device used to join pieces of paper together. Staplers were invented. A stapler differs from a sticky tape dispenser in that it dispenses staples rather than sticky tape. Staplers come in different colours and are sometimes made of metal and plastic, which is in turn made of atoms. Atoms are very small, even smaller than ants. With the right tools, you can safely split an ant, but you must never attempt to split an atom.”