Angry little monkey

Simulcast on blog.myspace.com/darkris

This is a little out of character for me (planning to write a short little post just to put down a couple of things that are pissing me off).

Generally I'm a big fan of smileys. I use them everywhere I can, because in the past I have sent messages that people have misconstrued. Now generally that doesn't happen, because people know what I'm like, so they know. But every now and then there are people that don't quite know me, or ones that do, but are far too neurotic for their own good. So they take me out of context.

Anyway, in the last few days, I have been ready to denounce my love for smileys. Yup. All of them. You wanna know why?

Because of the little FUCKER that sits in the banner ad at the top of most FUCKING pages that yells at me "SAY SOMETHING!" every FUCKING time I move my mouse to the address bar. But it's not only him, its the little fag that calls out "Hellllloooooooooo" on the sidebars, and the roadrage fucker that says "bite me".

I've resorted to muting my speakers. My sound system is being held to ransom because of smileys and FUCKING ADS!!

FUCK!

Okay, next point.

So, I've started using MySpace a little more. I thought to myself, "Rather than whoring your space out to anyone that happens to send you a friend request, start screening them." That was simple. The next thing was I should probably start talking to people I have added to myspace, or send them messages before I just add anybody. I thought this was the considerate thing to do.

Well, obviously common courtesy isn't practiced by anyone these days because no one fucking replies. I'm sure they reply to the FUCKING TOSSBAGS that take webcam photos of themselves with no tops on showing off their rockhard abs and pecs that they have meticulously spent hours upon hours sculpting to perfection because they have nothing else to do with the great expanse of meaningless time they call their lives.

You know who you are, you fucking spoon. Grow up and put a fucking shirt on.

You people that screen messages should be ashamed of yourselves. Think about the time people spend composing a clever message and consider talking to them instead of just adding all the ripped wankers that just click on add friend and then all they do is leave a comment on your page saying things like "I WNT 2 SEX U". Where is the substance?

It's like schmucks at bars that hop from chick to chick to chick until they stumble on one that is stupid enough to fall for his lines. You have to admire them for their sheer persistance, but you really have to question what is going on inside their heads. How do any girls fall for these guys at all? These douche bags are so obvious, they have no class, no game and worst of all, no respect for the chicks they play.

You people need to grow the fuck up and take a good hard look at yourselves (and I mean that figuratively, because I know you're already looking at yourself in the mirror, and you're blinded by the light you think is shining out of your arse) and grow a fucking brain.

That is all.

So much for a short little post.

Auld Lang Syne

*simulcast at blog.myspace.com/darkris*

Now that everyone is up-to-date on my status (for reference please click here) I can fill you in on what has happened since.

The Preamble

On December 29, 2006 Chief and I went to the Melbourne Central Lion, which was our custom on a Friday night, and as it turns out nearly every second day of our holidays. Usually we are met by a bit of mock warmth from the bar staff (which is standard procedure with most pub staff and their regulars) and maybe a little bit of eye-contact play with some of our fellow patrons.

I wouldn't attribute our play to the fact that we are overly attractive no that I'm saying we aren't, but it probably has more to do with nearly a foot of height difference between Chief's imposing 6'5" frame and my somewhat diminutive 5'6 7/8" stature.

However, this night was slightly different. I seemed to notice a little more play than usual, and had my attention divided between a couple of 'prospects'. God I sound like such a player. As is my technique, I waited for one of them to make an absolute move before deciding which was a better horse to back. In other words I'm a coward that needs the chick to make the first move in order to reveal that they are fact interested in me. Saves confusion I think, you just can't be too careful these days :P

Anyway, it wasn't until much later in the night that such a situation presented itself. I was dancing on the dancefloor in close proximity to one of the marks in question when I noticed she was being hassled by some dude that was dancing like a possessed evangelist and was trying his guts out to woo said mark.

I let this continue for sometime, being slightly amused by his antics and making myself seem much more attractive by comparison, before eventually perking up enough courage to ask the girl if she needed rescuing. For me, this scene was very reminiscent of an episode of The Secret Life of Nick, and funnily enough she did have a slight vampire look to her teeth.

We did the whole generic dance thing until before she and her friend (a stock, standard D.U.F.F.) were going to leave. Seizing my opportunity I asked her for her number at which point she snatched my phone out of my hand and put entered the data herself.

Copious amounts of messaging ensues of the following day where we are able to establish a time and date to meet up. Unfortunately (this is the due to the unfortunate phenomena commonly referred to as hindsight) it turned out that she was able to catch up on New Year's Eve. At the time I was excited that I had a follow-up meeting planned, and didn't give thought to what the night would actually bring.

The Main Event

Chief and I planned what we would do New Year's Eve and it was established that we would arrive early in the evening in order to cement ourselves as features of the bar and slowly prepare ourselves for what was to be a rollercoaster of a night.

I was aware that my 'date' was most likely still out of credit, so whatever message I sent to her was one that didn't require a reply. The message that was composed was thus:

"We are heading to the Lion. I will be looking for you from 8 til 9. See you soon"

Without a word of a lie, her and the D.U.F.F. arrived at 5 past 8! This made the night a little awkward as we were expecting a few friends (George, Chad and his girlfriend Jess, Lukey, James, Raph and Ohnhai) and now had to entertain these girls before they arrived.

The conversation was excruciatingly painful. I swear the D.U.F.F. was my Date's attorney, as she answered most of her questions for her. All of the questions she answered herself were in the form of one-word responses; few things annoy me as much as one-word or one-line responses. Chief and I had to take the reigns of the conversation and in the space of an hour and a half had covered everything and had almost totally exhausted all of our material.

The night was destined to drag on from here on in, so I took the initiative to my Date away and talk to her privately as I thought this would garner more success than the group 'interrogation'. This is the part of the night where I chose the wrong path. While I had fun with the Date that night, I missed out on having fun with my friends (don't get me wrong, I did have fun with them at times, but my attention was divided and again, in hindsight, I feel I neglected them a little).

But yeah, copious amounts of alcohol were consumed and a good time was had by all as far as I know. Lukey arrived later because he had to work late, but he more than made up for it.

As it was Chief's birthday, we went up to the bar determined to get him one hell of a birthday beverage. We asked the barchick (her name is Jess and she was dressed as a cop in tiny, little, skin-tight hot-pants, CFM boots and a tight, low-cut top as all the barstaff were allowed to wear fancy dress on the night) what their strongest drink was. She told us it was the Melbourne Central Devil and she went to ask the manager (George) if she could dispense one to Chief. He was denied.

I can't remember what we got him in lieu of the Devil, but needless to say, after hearing about it, whatever we ended up getting him was a disappointment.

Our disappointment was short-lived. After we told Lukey about the Devil shortly after his arrival, he had to have one. Now, the reason Chief was denied was because he had consumed far too much alcohol already, and the manager had learned his lesson the week before by letting another regular (Jason, who looks like Gorgeous George from Snatch) have one after drinking a lot already. This reduced him to a feral like state where he needed to be confined to a cubicle in the men's toilets where he proceeded to spew up the entire contents of his stomach while he battered in the walls of his enclosure. He stayed in there for the remainder of the night, like a caged animal, under the watchful eye of the security staff.

Anyway, Lukey told Jess that he had just arrived from work (which was a true statement about 30 minutes prior to his claim) and that the only way he had any hope of catching up to us was to have a fabled Melbourne Central Devil. His ploy worked and soon the manager himself was concocting his beverage. Usually this drink is 'brewed' in a martini glass, but due to the frequency of Strawberry Daiquiris that were being sold, they were out of glasses, so Lukey had to settle for a Scotch glass instead.

The glass is filled three quarters full with several different spirits with no mixer and on the left sits a shot glass filled with red liquor, while on the right is sat a shot glass filled with blue liquor. The central glass then has two straws placed in it and the subject is instructed to drink. Lukey does so.

He proceeds to nearly empty the glass with incredible pace when the manager suddenly pours the contents of both shots into the mix. Lukey continues to imbibe the sickly brown fluid. Finishing with a fire in his throat and belly, Lukey lets out a victorious roar and Chief and I are instructed to not let him drink for the remainder of the night.

Lukey didn't need another drink for the night. 30 minutes and as many dollars later for the Devil, Lukey was busting moves on the dancefloor that would have made John Travolta blush with shame in his prime.

The night came to a close with Chief and I indulging in our post evening custom, being a healthy dose of Hungry Jacks. We, by some miracle, were able to hail a cab (a maxi-taxi no less!) and we did a deal with the cabbie to drop the girls (my Date and the D.U.F.F. who were tagging along) at their place on Flinders Street where he would then proceed to drop us at Crown Casino, because apparently Kensington is too far away from the City.

We drop the girls off and head towards Crown. As we are pulling up to the taxi rank (which was totally full and would have taken an hour and a half by my most modest estimates to reach the front, and being 3:30 in the morning and already in a cab, I didn't feel like waiting for another one) I leaned forward to the cabbie and told him that there would be $10 cash just for him if he were able to just drive us straight home (on top of the money for the fare that I was going to pay on my card).

After some umming and arring and angry faces in the crowd and security telling the cabbie to move over to let other cabs through, he angrily agreed and Chief and I settled back for the 8 minute drive home.

The Turn

Looking forward to some sleep to end what I saw to be a terrific New Year's Eve, I stumbled into Chief's spare room. As I was about to lie down, Chief asked me to accompany him on the balcony. This is where the night took a twist. As we are standing there we hear a woman shouting, Chief being Chief, he yells out to her to shut the fuck up and go to bed. She yells back a little bit and we proceed to laugh at her. She stumbles to under our balcony and as if forgetting the slanging match we were just engaged in, asks us if we have a lighter. Chief says yes and before I know it we are on the stairs on our way down to give it to her.

It didn't take us long to ascertain that this bird is a total crackpot as she regales us with a patchy tale of friend betrayal, violence, tears and an all-round shit-storm of a New Year's Eve. This crazy bitch is wearing only a skirt and a bikini top with some lace top tied around her waist. No shoes either.

She tells us how she stormed out of the party she was at because all her friends told her they hated her because she kicked rubbish onto the road. Chief and I exchanged bemused glances at this point and urged her to continue. She told us she had been strolling the streets when she had accepted a ride from 2 African guys in their car. A young girl, accepting a ride from 2 strangers at 4am. Did I mention nutcase?

Anyway, after she gets in the car, she realises she could be in some serious danger and jumps out of the car as it is moving. She then asks us where she is, and we tell her and she seems genuinely surprised and a little annoyed that she is still in Kensington.

After we deduce where her friend's party is, we offer to escort her back there. Don't ask me why, but we think that it's because our super-hero complexes kick in and we can't let her walk there by herself.

We begin the hike to her friend's party (about 20 minutes according to my estimate) and Chief, being grumpy, begins baiting her. He first tells me that we are too nice and 'safe looking' and the asks the girl, who told us to call her Jim, what was different about us and the African guys in the car.

She replies that the guys in the car could have easily raped her. Chief retorts with so could we. This is where the conversation takes a turn and I decide it is good policy to just continue to stroll alongside without saying anything. She tells him the difference being is that before she was trapped in a car and now if anything happened she could easily run away from us.

Chief continues with his game, letting her know that no matter how fast she could run, either of us could catch her. This is when she decided to demonstrate her Plan B. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something hurtling towards my head. Despite flinching, her elbow still glances my cheekbone, narrowly missing my eye-socket. I lost it a call her a crazy bitch and punch a chemist roller-door making a loud bang and setting the alarm off.

My outburst has the desired effect as she is scared and runs off across and down the road. I hurl some obscenities after her before I hurl my fist into a pizza shop window as I am storming past (on my trip to investigate my potential damage in the light of day, I was disheartened to see that the only mark I left on the street was a slight smudge of blood on the pizza shop window).

So I have been dealing with a self-inflicted injury so far this year. Not to mention many revelations about my Date from New Year's Eve that made the decision to not pursue anything sit very comfortably with me. The poor little dear has some major issues she needs to sort out before being unleashed on an unsuspecting world again.

So now I'm back to square-one and am glad to be back at work if only for the structure my life gains when I'm here. I also went to Queensland with Maddy during my holiday. There's not really much to tell so I may as well include it in this post. It was a comfortable, dry heat and I only got a little burned. When we left Coolangatta Airport at 7:30pm last Wednesday it was 28 degrees. When we arrived in Melbourne at 10:45pm it was a sweltering 32 degrees and humid as a sauna!

I might be going out on Friday (if Chief recovers from being sick in time, which is unlikely) and Saturday night so maybe I will have some more material to post about next week.

Until then, stay cool!

Once Again Faced With The Arduous Task Of Finding An Adequate Title; I Capitulate...

Haha!

Greetings denizens of the web and the select few people I call my friends who actually read this drivel.

Sorry, that is no way to begin, for I am not melancholy nor am I jaded, merely at a juncture in my life where I care not to delude myself that one day I will have an enormous readership and will become a fabled net-celebrity or netlebrity as it were.

It has been a long time since my last blog, and I feel it necessary to fill you in on what I have been up to. Not that it makes for an exciting fable in it's entirety, but over the next few entries you will find portions of which you will find amusing others you will find slightly sad. I welcome you to post comments with your thoughts :)

I guess most of you who know me already will know that my longtime girlfriend and I have broken up. It's been just over a month now, and from my perspective things between us have been as good as can be expected considering the circumstances of the break up were by no means ugly.

After many ugly fights that were generally about finances or caused by stresses of the finances, the mood between us had cooled somewhat in preceding months. I guess the death-knell for our relationship came when during one of our bigger rows when I reminded Madz that it still wasn't too late for her to get out. I felt that I didn't want to be with someone who felt like they were trapped with me, so I gave her the chance to opt out.

The emotional turmoil of the previous months seemed to crash down on Madz and suddenly a cascading river of tears erupted from her. This was the moment of the drawn out break-up process that I consider to be the defining moment of "this is it".

We continued on for about two weeks after with the conclusion being that she would move out, but we would try to continue dating. During this time I became very introspective, trying desperately to figure out my feelings and thoughts. This time was made more difficult with my study year coming to a close and work peaking. After one night out at dinner I decided that while I felt dear love for Madz, she was not what I wanted from a partner.

And nor I for her.

While we had many a good time in the 22.9 months that we were together, and they seem to be my most vivid memories of the relationship, it was no sweet romance. I'm not going to go into the trials and tribulations of our relationship here, because it is none of your business. Suffice it to say that we are still very close and what affects her affects me, and vice-versa.

So Madz moved out two weeks before Christmas and as bad as this may sound, let me assure you that I mean no malice when I say it, that it was good to have my own space back. It has almost been like I have been able to reclaim my sanctum sanctorum and shape it as I see fit. While the place seems unearthly quiet at times, it is also a welcome peace that I have not experienced in well over 3 years.

Well I think this sufficiently concludes the first chapter of my catching up blogs, consider it a preface or an introduction for entries to come, because there will probably be entries that refer back to this moment at some point.

Part 6: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Chapter 5: Who Needs A Delorean?

5:20pm: The reception starts in just over an hour.

I race down to North Melbourne

Here we go again. Maddy calls her mum to bring her other dress with her on their way through to the reception. They arrive at 6pm just long enough to drop off the dress before racing against time to get to the reception on time. About 10 minutes later Maddy and I are in the car heading to the Luxor Reception Centre in Sydenham.

I remember this place well as I had to pick up Trevor there one year after he got insanely drunk on red wine and proceeded to call his employer a cheap slut and was unable to drive home. Was an entertaining evening.

We arrive at about 6:28pm - pretty good timing - and hop out of the car, and even the heat seems to have turned down a bit. As we are walking to the door, Maddy's mum and brother arrive and drive past us to park. We must have hit a wormhole or something because they had a 10 minute head-start on us and I didn't speed.

Finally, I'm one up on the universe.

Epilogue: The Happy Ending

The rest of the evening at the reception is a boring story that consists of me having a great time and eating too much. Which doesn't make for an entertaining addition to an already longwinded story. I did get to drink three free longneck bottles of Crown lager and one glass of champagne which helped me warm up for Sylvek's birthday that I was to attend later in the night.

But that story is one I will save for another time, so stay tuned.

Part 5: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Chapter 4: European Equals Overpriced And Annoying

I had conceded defeat. I would call the damned locksmith. Being a Saturday, it turned into an ordeal locating a locksmith that could come out to unlock my doors. I finally got a number that connected and after a short phonecall, it was established that he wouldn't be able to make it out to my place until 6.

Wedding reception starts at 6:30.

So I tell him that will have to do, and I give him my number just in case he can make it earlier. We then had 2 and a half hours to kill, and because Maddy wasn't dressed to be out in public (she only had on a mini-skirt and a singlet top so she could slip from them into her dress) I had to drive her to North Melbourne so that she could hang out with her friend Tsari.

I was now on a mission. I needed to find a new white shirt (because I had completely soaked and dirtied the one I was wearing) and I couldn't go too far from home in case the locksmith called. I headed to a small shopping centre in Brunswick that I remembered existed and bought a 'European' styled shirt.

It turns out when they describe something as European styled, they mean overpriced and annoying. The shirt had double the buttons of a normal shirt, in pairs and even had two buttons almost on top of one another at the neck. When you're wearing a tie, the last thing you want is more bulk right where your Adam's Apple is. This shirt cost me $40, and I swear the extra expense went into the buttons.

As I'm leaving the place at 4:40, the locksmith calls me; he's going to be at my place in 10 minutes.

Great.

So I battle Sydney Road traffic and get there as he does. The locksmith wastes no time in attempting to unlock my doors, he doesn't want to be in the sun for any longer than he has to be with his ginger skin and ample body hair.

It takes him 30 minutes to finally unlock both locks - apparently my locks are good - and $120 later I'm inside! Huzzah!

Part 4: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Chapter 3: The Key Is To Stay Positive

As we pull into the driveway at home, George asks if I'll be fine and asks if there is anything he can do. I reply to him that things should be cool, and I'll be able to work it out, thanks anyway. He motors off and I stroll down the driveway to my car that sounds like it's been running for quite a while.

As I gave upon Maddy's hardened stare, I realise I'm in big trouble. It turns out Maddy had been sitting in my car with the air conditioning going, waiting for me to get home for over an hour. When she first got home, she walked upstairs and went to unlock the door when she made the grim realisation that there were no house keys on my keyring.

Don't you hate that pit-of-your-stomach feeling you get when you know you've really messed up big time?

I had it in spades.

Anyway, me being me, I told Maddy to be cool, and that there was no point in getting upset as it really doesn't help anything. She asked me what I was going to do. I replied with a wry grin and trotted off to the back fence; I was going to attempt to scale the wall and climb in the back window that I leave open for the cat.

Wearing my suit I hoisted myself onto the fence and shuffled around to the wall of my building. At which point I looked down and realised I was standing 15 feet above the concrete pavers the neighbour has in his backyard. Slipping several times due to my dress shoes having no grip, I decided I didn't want to die in my neighbours backyard. It was just too damn hot for that.

I got myself down and strolled back to the car in a dejected kind of way with my shoulders slumping as much from the heat as the sense of defeat I felt from not being able to do what seemed so easy in my head.

"Why don't you just call a locksmith?" Maddy asked with a look of disappointment that had replaced what was once anger on her face. Being a stubborn git, I shook my head; I had one more trick up my dirty white sleeve.

I walked to the front of our apartment block and looked up at the sheer glass surface. Each pane of glass in the facade is about a metre high and is divided by a 'shelf' of aluminium that is about 50mm thick and sticks about 40mm. I decided that I would give Spider-man a run for his money and proceeded to scale the wall.

As I was climbing I was trying desperately to remember which window always opened and which one needed to be unlocked. I was fairly convinced that it was the one closest to the wall that was always locked, but I would have hated myself for not trying. Sure enough, after getting to the top with sweaty fingers holding on for dear life suspended 20 feet in the air, it turns out I was right - the window was locked.

This was the fun part. It is always easier to climb up something than it is to climb down. Sure I could have jumped, but my knees and I have a fairly shaky truce at the best of times, and I was not in the mood to be waging war on my body. I had to slide to the corner of the window and shimmy myself down, all the while trying not to burn my hands off.

Part 3: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Chapter 2: It Is Right To Give Thanks And Praise

George and I walk briskly to the front of the church, and two young guys advise us as we walk inside that there are still free seats upstairs. We walk inside and everyone is looking at the door, obviously waiting for the bridal party to enter. We quickly shuffle into the corner and try to be inconspicuous, which for George proves to be a little be difficult as he towers over most people by several inches.

As the ceremony kicks into gear I looked around to see a faint mist of steam rising from the standing room area where we are. This is sweat. As I look around at the people standing in front of me, beads of sweat are beginning to roll down their necks, and patches start to form on their shirts.

Thankfully we aren't there for very much longer as it's an extremely quick Catholic wedding. Thank the Lord. So we burst out of the church as soon as the happy couple passes us, and we head for the shade of the closest tree for a little bit of relief.

As he has to drive me home, George and I don't hang around long. We jump into his car and he informs me that we can't put the air conditioning on past 1 and we can't put the windows in the front down either. My phone rings suddenly. It's Maddy, and she's not happy.

Part 2: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Chapter 1: Time For A Change

The details are a bit hazy, but one of the first things I can remember clearly is Maddy yelling into the phone.

"What do you mean the wedding is at 1? You told me it was 2!"

This was at 11am. I yawned and got up. The sweltering heat was already a factor and I was dreading the thought of wearing my suit outside, let alone inside a stuffy church for an hour.

After another screaming match on the phone regarding shoes, Maddy was in quite a strop so I steered clear of her, and got ready at my own pace. I was well and truly ready by 12:30, so we jumped in my car, turned the air conditioning up to 4 and headed to Windsor for the wedding.

We arrived at about 12:50 and we had to wait for Maddy's brother George to arrive with her dress and shoes. He arrived about 5 minutes later, and that gave us 5 minutes to arrive at the church. Plenty of time.

Maddy begins putting on her beautiful white dress with the black and yellow floral print on it that she had been dying to wear since buying it for the Melbourne Cup which she didn't end up attending. I'm chatting away to George and I heard this grunting when Maddy taps me on the shoulder and asks for my help doing up the zip. It's one of those shoddy inlaid zips that is so thin you're scared it's going to snap off in your fingers.

We finally tease the zip up and as Maddy puts her arms down, the teeth give out and the zip bursts. She gets the dress off to try to unlock the zip. Her hands are shaking so much with rage that she can't hold the zip properly. I hesitated, but had a quick go, being careful not to tear the teeth and damage the dress any further, but had no luck.

At 1:10, Maddy drove George and I to the front of the church and we went in without her. She decided she'd go home and try to salvage the dress for the reception at 6:30.

Part 1: A Day In History: Saturday, December 9, 2006

Prelude: The Night Before

Early Friday I'm sitting at my desk, thinking about the gloriousness of the weekend to come. However, one thing was bumming me out; it was turning out that my Friday night was going to be free. If there's one thing I enjoy on a Friday night, it's a good drink with Chief to wind down. I actually feel it makes the weekend seem longer if you go out on a Friday night.

But this week Chief had decided that he should spend some time with other friends. That's cool, do that, then come out, I said. Anyway, I worked on him for about 2 hours before he put his foot down and told me it wasn't gonna happen. I did come close. He told me to wait for a phonecall around 10ish just in case he changed his mind.

I wasn't gonna hold my breath.

Anyway, I headed home and the last thing I remember was walking in the door and put my bag down. The next thing I know I'm awoken by Maddy bringing in my phone and it's Chief; his night didn't go to plan, he wants booze.

It's 8:30, I've been asleep for 3 hours and I haven't eaten. So I hurriedly cook some food, eat it, change, take my house keys from my keyring and slip them in the zip compartment of my wallet convince Maddy to drive me to Chief's.

A solid night of alcohol consumption and merriment ensued. Fine details are lost to me, however I do remember one of the barchicks finishing her shift early and buying me two shots to have with her.

Anyway, I arrived home at about 4am-ish, dumped my gear in the brass pot I keep beside the door for loose change and ran to the bathroom to get a bucket. I was sure I was in peril after the amount of grog I consumed and the drunken food spree I went on on the way home (I'm deeply ashamed about that now, actually). I stumbled to the bedroom with the bucket under my arm and crashed for the night.

Ninja Keyboard!

As you will recall in my post titled blanc. which I posted on Wednesday, November 29, 2006, I said this:

"Anyway, I'm working on his design this afternoon and I'm saving and saving, and it's all going well. I do a fairly big change after doing about 15 minutes of clipping mask around some cherries and click save again.

"Could not complete you request because of an unknown error."

You've gotta be kidding me. So I try to remove certain elements that I know I can recreate quickly, or already exist and try to resave. Nada. This continues for about 20 minutes as my blood-pressure reaches bursting point. Finally, something looks like it's working and it's saving and saving, and then on the last bar. Kaputski.

I think it's time for a reboot.

I bite the bullet and shutdown Illustrator and reboot my computer. Oh, this is all at 4:55pm and I finish at 5.

Computer boots back up and I go to open the last file I had saved successfully.

It's corrupt.

Suddenly letters and numbers are showering down upon me as I realise I've put my fist through my keyboard."

It looked a little something like this:



Anyway, I put the keyboard back together and apart from a few sticky keys (i and space) and some letter prints missing (o, a, s, d, f, h, k, l, left shift, x, c, n, m, ,, ., and right shift) it was going fine. But, looking at it today, I just thought, enough is enough. It has to go. I was getting sick of unsticking the keys everytime I was working on something.

I got a new keyboard when I got this new PC, but never plugged it in because I liked the exclusivity of being the only person who could operate my keyboard with the missing keys. It seems I have been doing myself a disservice. This new keyboard is ORGASMICALLY quiet. By orgasmic, I mean the quiet orgasms you learn to do when living at home so as not to get caught making the hand love.

It's soft to the touch too. Likes hands that haven't done a days hard work in their life. It's like shaking hands for me everytime I touch it ;)

It's so sleek and black and silver and is just simple. The way I like it. Although I will miss my multimedia keys (ie mute, volume control and calculator - I love that little guy) but hey, I'll deal. I can't hear myself typing at 200 words a minute now, so I doubt someone at the other side of the room will be able to either.

Speaking of people at the other side of the room, there is meant to be another 'designer' that comes in on Thursdays to learn what I do. You think he's here today? That's right. I guess that's good cos he's a bit of a toolbag. He makes those jokes that you just shake your head at. But if that wasn't all, he likes to make snide remarks about peoples' appearances and make fun of you to your face.

Several times now I've been on the brink of telling him to get fucked, but he'll squeal and then I'll be in deep shit. I'd rather not go through that.

I had a bad day last Thursday with things that sorta but not really went off the rails and people were trying to place the blame on me to dodge a bullet (something I'm well and truly used to being one of the youngest people here) and I just wasn't in the mood for any shit.

Tooly strolls in looking all smug and says something like "quiet morning huh?" I told him I wasn't in the fucking mood for stupid jokes so he should sit down and do his work. Things went pretty smoothly for the rest of the day ^_^

This is the guy you'll ask for something 5 times before he does it. I asked him for a drawing for a particularly urgent job on Tuesday, and he FINALLY emailed it to me today and says "here you go little guy". So I replied "About time Stretch. Only took you 3 days." Sure it's not the best comeback in the world, but it's better than just sitting back and taking it, or complaining.

Anyway, moving on.

Uh..

So how about that tea huh? Good old tea. I drink it black now with no sugar. It's a bit rough, but man it's good for the brain. Wakes me the fuck up like nothing else. LOL. Can you tell? Ok, I'm gonna go and finish off the little amount of work that I have to do so I can have a relaxing afternoon :)

I'll probably blog again later in the arvo. But then again, now that I've said that, I probably won't. But now I might. LOL! Damn vicious irony circles!