bread
milk
hommous
boxed, pre-tossed salad
generic shredded cheese
sliced sandwich meat
baked beans

//come on, this is crap. I need a real clincher before I can justify the 2 minutes walk to the supermarket//

hamburger mince

//5w33t!! Meat makes it all worthwhile.//

eggs
tomato sauce
maybe some rolls

//for the hamburgers//

chocolate

//what other basic “food” things are there? Wine? Nah. Frozen chips? No space in the freezer. Jeez, it’s a big supermarket, you’d think I’d get some inspiration from all the stuff in there. Well, at least I have the hamburgers to look forward to. Mmmm.//

What’ll I write / in the blog to-nite?

Umm…

gotta take a slash. Wait.

Okay. I’m taking a few days off work for RSI / laziness / holiday reasons and am discovering new realms of boredom. The most interesting thing today that didn’t take place on TV was me signing up at the Newtown public library. I’ve given up practising guitar because it’s not compatible with having enough strength to type the next day.

On the upside, if you’re looking for a singer and your band is absolutely intent on failure, I’m yr man.

I’m also trialling a new haircut that, following the philosophy of Gilles Deleuze, is an ‘event’, rather than a reified structure. You can’t define or categorise it, it just happens when you mix in a certain amount of gel and go the scrub with a hairbrush.

Funky.

There’s a great new post from Officewench - it seems her (semi)ex-boyfriend discovered her weblog ages before they even broke up, when she was only musing about breaking it off on the internet and that explains, to a certain extent, why things have been so weird between them since she decided to leave for Europe (but fails to explain why he didn’t tell her and why she still says she loves him when she tells everyone else in the world she doesn’t). Wow. Our very own soapie.

West Australian QC Mark Trowell claims that Indonesian lawyers on the Corby case asked for money to bribe judges.

We don’t think he coughed up.

Bummer.

[As for why he’s on stage with Queen, don’t even bother asking -Ed.]

(From BourbonBird. Why? Because the X-Files is on soon and it’s too late to think. Who can resist a meme anyway?)

OK. Five things is going to be tricky, but I think if I get really specific I might be able to do it.

1) Never having been kissed. Having someone’s hand on your knee for the first time, or undressing a girl for the first time are some of the most fun things you ever get to do. I should have paid more attention.

2) No cooking. Or ironing for that matter. Not that I can really do either now, it’s just that I have to try.

3) I used to be able to get around without shaving. Man, this is pretty superficial crap but I just hate shaving. It’s a complete waste of time.

4) Lego. I don’t know why my life right now is incompatible with lego, but it seems to be and that’s pretty sad. I used to make moon bases with pneumatic landing pads and all sorts of stuff.

5) School dances. Dances are another thing I should have been more interested in, but hey, what can you do? Part of being a kid is not knowing what stuff you’re going to miss. I would like there to be school dances now of course, but it’s just not that kind of school.

I got nothin’ today. A lot of half-amusing stories about the academics in the department gettin’ down on the dance floor at the conference party long after most of the students had left. Apparently one of Australia’s leading feminists went arse over after too many beers. Very embarrassing stuff, I hear.

At least I know that in academia you’re not expected to be able to bust a move with any skill. Perfect career for me.

Late to work on account of all my lights going out and the fuse box being under lock and key. They’re always in there fiddling though - testament to the high number of people in my apartment block who try to kill themselves by sticking knives in the toaster.

So I’m hanging out at the conference closing party. Mixing around.

Meet some people from Victoria. A nut from Sydney Uni bails me up and, noticing me looking at my friends over his shoulder, full on asks me if I would rather be talking to somone else. I try to excuse myself politely - he’s right, of course - but he seems intent on being offended, in a pathetic ‘I talk too much crap anyway’ kinda way. Whatever.

Then I’m busy making eyes at S, who I think is some other guy’s girlfriend but they’re such an unlikely couple I feel kinda justified.

Then we’re talking about the Nazi regime (don’t ask me why, I don’t start this kind of conversation) and we’re giving P, the German exchange student, crap about Hitler and all that:

Me: Okay then, we’ll stop mentioning Hitler if you agree not to bring up Crocodile Dundee.

P: Yah? He was blonde with blue eyes, wasn’t he? Very Aryan… Maybe he was a fascist himself.

Me: Ah - ya call that a Reich? This is a Reich!!

I guess you had to be there, but that was the funniest thing I’ve ever said and I wanted you to hear it.

Nothing much else happened. There were a few famous people there but you wouldn’t know who they were.

Hangin’ at the 4-5-C-P conference with Glen. Will deliver a longer post when the madness is over. But in the meantime- I’m realising that most of the people here are pretty ugly. I’m not super good looking,* but I’m a total catch here, and I’m sure these people go to conferences for procreation as well as give papers. >:) But yeah - ugly, ugly people.

And lesbians.

That accounts for most of them.

[EDIT: what is this crap? I’m not even drunk. There’s no excuse.]

* jk - I so am.

I have a cold so bad I woke up last night somewhat certain I was member of Al Qaeda. I could speak Arabic and had contacts in the Islamic underworld. Couldn’t quite work out what I was doing in my flat.

Feeling better at the moment.

or ‘The Kiddie Table’

V, the epileptic Romanian student is going away for a while, to Romania where he’s a university professor. So we’re down at Galanga Thai in Newtown, which is good Thai for sure, having a bit of a send off dinner. They do a great BBQ chicken. We chat - V is going on about the movie 2046 and it’s relation to Dostoyevski’s Crime and Punishment (they aren’t related at all) - and eat dinner peacefully, without any hint of menace.

But later on, we drop by the ole Ice & Slice pizzeria and icecream bar for a few icecreams & coffees, and I get stuck at the end of the table with all the older folks on. Kind, intelligent, liberal, middle aged people. Dear. Fucking. God.

Restaurants. There’s this great place on Liberty Street. It used to be a corner shop…

Food. No, actually, I love cooking. Huh? Italian mostly…

Travel. Northern England is lovely, but we went there during the Thatcher years and everyone was so poor….

This must be what adults talk about. (My future flashing before my eyes - at least the furniture will be tasteful). And I can’t get out without making everyone else stand up because it’s a bench against the wall. And, sitting there, I wait for someone to try to get to know me but the concept of Aztec chilli-chocolate - incorporating the best of everyone’s insights into both travel and food - is far more interesting.

Eventually, it is over.

I guess,
[select one:]
a) that I shouldn’t be so annoyed.
b) that I will grow up soon.
c) that I am mentally warped and can only relate to a few people.
d) that even sophisticated types love the sound of their own voices.
e) that food, travel and restaurants must be a lot more interesting that I’ve been assuming.

O lord please return me to the kiddie table.