Ah and so the weekend is here. Not that weekends mean anything these days cos they don't. It just seems to be the 2/7ths of the week that i get to see people. For my 'unemployed actor' (with added scarf worn outside for extra points) I was quite happy to have a weekend where everything had been relatively mapped out.
Friday night began with a bite to eat with my gf. I don't necessarily walk around looking for something to comment on but much in the way a comedian looks for material, i've become consumed with taking note of all the things that i would have dismissed before as quirks of the everyday idiot or simply suppressed them in the hope that not venting my frustration might earn me some karma points. I wasn't off to a good start though.....i stood at my gf's intercom at for what seemed like an age. Without going into the technical details of the schitzophrenic nature of my gf's intercom, its readout was showing 'Lines Busy Please Wait' - a situation remedied usually with pressing the 'X' symbol so as to end the previous call that the last person has no doubt walked away from. In what resembled a Madame Tussauds exhibit, i stood there dumbstruck looking at this bloke wondering what was going to snap first - my patience and thus his neck OR his patience. My question is this. If I as an upstanding member of society decide to reach over and press the forbidden X am i invading his personal space? I only ask this as this is exactly what i did. Noting the speed at which he punched in the numbers i assumed he was a frequent visitor to the building and would no doubt turn and thank me for the pearls of intercom innovation i had just imparted to him for future visits. Instead, i got a look from him like i'd just taken a shit in his wallet. Next time i'll just leave them be i think.
And thus onto Saturday. A day that every fortnight at around about 11am i am turned into what can only be described as a zoo exhibit. My current abode is up for sale and has been for quite a while. Namely because the owner has been seemingly living in a realm where the GFC hasn't bitten. I know next to nothing about property other than the word location and its repetition twice more. But what i do know is this. If something is too expensive in relation to what else is on the market, then it ain't gonna sell tiger. I can only assume that the owner is going by the tried and tested 'one born every minute' ratio in the hope that if he does enough open houses that someone who has just come into some money will pay through the arse. Nothing says personal intrusion like having to tidy the place from top to bottom whilst complete strangers walk on through commenting on how busy i look, and how they would have never thought to have put that there. I would like to give a special shout out to the man who thought that he didn't have the need to cover his mouth when he sneezed three times. Nothing says inadvertant swine flu that some cretin sneezing all over my gear. Cheers mate, appreciate it. Not only do i give up an hour of my weekend to make sure nothing goes missing on these walk throughs, but i also subject myself to biological warfare in the form of a sweating Chinese man.
Quick shout out: I do recall a point in time where Lauren commented on how sexy Ruby Rose was. I also recall viewing a photo of said woman and thinking she wasn't anything special. Apologies to Lauren aside, i just thought i'd like to say what a fairly stunning creature she is. Maybe its the new haircut, maybe its the pork pie hat. I dunno, but it works. That's all.
And now Sunday rolls around. Beautiful sunny day. Days that i'm sure Wilson Parking look upon as sweet sweet revenue from above........everyone wants a day in the City. Today was no different. In my getting ready to head into the City i had a bit of peripheral noise in the background. This morning's selection (and i must stress it was totally random as no self respecting person would look at a tv guide to know this program's exact time) was..........Gladiators. Now i as a kid LOVED Gladiators. I was at an age to appreciate the subtle violent opera unfolding before me.....as well as the not so subtle curves of Delta. Mike Hammond was about as plastic as a Tupperware convention whilst the vision of test cricketer in a stripey referree shirt trying with all his might to not yell 'WTF has my life become?!?' was hysterical. Fast forward to 2009. Wrestling in the US is going gangbusters. Has been for a long time. In trying to tap into that demographic, a Channel 7 exec has had a programming relapse sitting behind his mahogany desk by trying to exhume this once fun show. Sure, all the classic events remain. The over-the-top contestants are still over-the-top. The Gladiators are an eclectic mix of swimsuit models and triangular shaped ex-bodybuilders some with traps so big that if they were to shrug in not knowing say....the capital of Borneo....they would champagne cork their head clean off their shoulders. And whilst i did catch myself in front of the tv briefly, i couldn't help but laugh when Bill Harrigan went to the video ref not once but TWICE. Off all the aspects of the NRL to bring into Gladiators it had to be the video referee. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of the pitch when that was suggested. I'm picturing Harrigan suffering from some sort of rectal disfunction at the thought of having to rule on something like whether or not Trapezoid made excessive contact with Dweeb. And to think this allllllllllllll happened before the main event for my Sunday.
So out of the house i go. The Home Show at Darling Harbour beckons. Now i'm a bit of a closet Ikea fan. I love a good bit of Swedish furniture. Looking around my place i see 2 Flurbenjuns, a Snickabarj and a Ruutasheep......although i think i picked that one up in NZ when i was last there......but anyways. Now Darling Harbour at the best of times is what i would call a bit of a shitfight and given the current economic climate i would have thought that the Home Show would have been emptier than a hobo's address book. And of course, i was wrong. With strollers aligning in a pincer movement every 10 steps i found myself thinking like a Russian chess player so as to not get run over by am oncoming squadron of Hummer inspired baby carriages. Once i had that down pat i could then turn my attention to what turned out to be quite an enjoyable exhibit. Few products spring to mind like the ratchet latched Tree Lopper. Perfect for a person like Dexter, it makes short work of even the thickest limbs.....i mean branches. From the look of them flying out the door, they are either making a sequel to Lost somewhere in the dense NSW tablelands OR that Dexter made being a sociopath all that more an attractive career path.
But my 'LOL' of the show would have to be the metal blinds that go over your swimming pool thus making it less appealling for children to go near and thus increase infant safety. That would be all well and good if the photo didn't show a kid KICKING A SOCCER BALL ON IT!!! Paint a giant dentist's drill or creepy Uncle Johnny on it or something. Another shout out would have to go to the Snuggie. In hoping that the person who thought this up was not the Marketing Manager of Betamax, this person has essentially invented an oversize blanket with three holes in. Bravo. Bearing in mind that the only colour on display was Radioactive Orange, it probably wasn't a good idea to put a bald guy on a laptop demonstrating how better his life had become just by owning a blanket with holes in. Picture the Dalai Lama............now picture him 30 years ago........now put him on a laptop.
BOOM! You now have the visual.
But thinking that my fun would end there would be premature for this ticket admission also granted us access to the Mind Body Spirit festival...........or as i will call it from now on The Gemstone, Oil and Lesbian Expo. Predicably the first stall i saw - and smelt - was aromatherapy but i was willing to let that slide. What i didn't let slide was a series of stalls that i imagine even Stephen King would have trouble thinking up. Ever heard of nose pot? Nope, me either. From the visuals alone it involved taking a teapot and inserting the spout in your choice of nasal orifice, left or right......not the gaping food hole beneath it. In my lifetime, i can probably count on one hand how many things have entered my nostrils. My index finger ages 0-9. A Cadbury chocolate finger that my brother then ate as a joke. A corkscrew corn cob holder for a laugh. A refreshing cup of Earl Gray doesn't spring to mind. Now obviously Earl Gray isn't what's used, but i wouldn't stick around to find out. Being a guinea pig and covering 20 people in reconstituted tea as it all goes horribly wrong would be unfortunate for all concerned.
But anyways, there you have it......my weekend. I shall now relax and watch Borat.
Chin up everyone. It's only life.