Happy New Year internet! Cue tiny glittery trumpets, and party hats, and party poppers with streamers (and may I say that last New Years Eve, someone set one of those off right in my face. This year they were setting off marine flares. I kept my distance.) I do have lots of photos of my entirely too short summer camping getaway(s), but as aforementioned I have an iPhone and as of about 20 minutes ago I now know how to take screenshots. Cue the text messages between me (walking through Costco, stung with the consumer desire to BUY THINGS ANY THINGS NEW THINGS, and emailing photos of said things to Mr. T); and Mr T (at home in a slightly more rational state of mind). Note Mr. T had previously looked at watches at Costco, so that comment is not entirely out of context.
And this right here sums up our entire relationship.
I should note that for full context (and slightly more value from this blog entry) you have to have seen The Castle. And not just to make sense of this exchange; but because it’s genius. The movie, not the exchange. That’s pretty pedestrian really.
…. This is going to be one of those things that’s only funny to me, isn’t it? Oh well. As usual, I amuse myself. Dog photos on the way, promise!
I never know what to do after a long absence. Sidle back into the room and hope you don’t notice? Give long and bewildering explanations? I think I’ll just launch right into a stream-of-consciousness rant. Then you’ll feel right at home.
The little dog is fine, and has been de-knackered. Yep, it was time for him to lose his bollocks. He was sad. He also had to wear a giant cone which caused much hilarity. Not so much for him, but for us. I actually did wear the cone, and it’s quite echoey in there. Also you can’t reach your face, like to scratch it or put chocolate in your piehole, which makes you feel like you have tiny tyrannosaurus rex arms. You also can’t chew on the stitches in your testicles, which is not usually a problem for me but was something which the little dog was very intent on doing.
I got an iPhone for work. My boss has been trying to press an iPhone on me for at least a year now, so that I will have all-hours access to email. For this exact reason, I have dodged an iPhone for that length of time. However I was not able to get out of the latest round of upgrades, so I have an iPhone. I love it. Apart from the work emails, which HOLY GOD STOP EMAILING ME. I email people 2 hours ahead and 4 hours behind me (not the same people, clearly) (TIIIME TRAVEL) so it never stops. But apart from that, it’s all good. Anyway, I had the phone for less than a week and Mr T opened up our bedroom curtains, which overlook the back yard. And stood there. “What?” I said, and saw… my phone lying on the concrete. THE HELL. It was fine, a few scuffed corners not withstanding (a nice buff with a nail buffer thing sorted that out) but obviously I went in search of the little dog. Who I found further down the yard, on the lawn, chewing on the lovely wool felt case I had bought for the phone. BAD DOG. Although I do like the way he just discards the phone on the way down, intent on the nice snuggly case. All of this to say: I have a new phone and a bad dog with no bollocks.
Apart from that, nothing else is happening. Apart from this ad here, which is currently playing at the rate of twice per ad break during the stellar movie Bad Santa:
Now I like this song, so I hum tunelessly along when it is on. And Mr T and I have taken to having discussions about what would happen if we owned the product being advertised; to wit, a web enabled printer that you can send photos to directly. “Oh, darling, someone is sending us a photograph! How lovely! What is it?…. why, it’s ANOTHER PHOTO of someone’s genitalia. I believe this is from David. How thoughtful!” I don’t know about your house, but in ours, any ink and photo paper would be sadly wasted on blurry close-ups of our hilarious friends’ nether regions. Perhaps we’re not really the target market.
Am I the last person on earth not to see this video? Are you keeping it from me so I don’t feel bad about how untrained my dog is? … actually, that’s not a bad thing. Very kind of you. But now I have to go find some Ikea and a clicker.
Oh no. She’s home. She sees us. She’s taking photos because she thinks it’s funny we’re all sitting in the window. God. PAY ATTENTION YOU GUYS. What should we do?
OMG SHE’S COMING IN. OK act cool guys, act cool. Pretend we only just got here.
What? We always sit here together. There’s nothing strange about it whatsoever. Let’s change the subject. Dog, in about ten seconds you are going to get in trouble for standing on the couch and you don’t even have the brains to realise it. DO I HAVE TO THINK OF EVERYTHING.
You will be pleased to know that the washing machine, although still outside, has moved undercover. It is now next to the new back doors, which replace the laundry door plus tiny window, now both smashed out of the house with great vigour. This new laundry placement is much better and greatly reduces my risk of electrocuting myself. Now I have no more than 40% risk of death, tops. A bit higher, I guess, if the dog chomps on the cord. Yes, that dog. He is a terrible washday assistant. He can’t even FOLD.
He also likes to sleep somewhere in this vast collection of crap, which entirely fills my second lounge room. It was a big empty space and now I have filled it with the contents of the main bathroom and the laundry cupboard, including but not limited to: tools, electrical leads, gardening equipment, 20kg bag of dog food, reusable grocery bags, non-reusable grocery bags, brooms, frisbees, dustpans, mysterious cables of unknown provenance, 87 mini-shampoos stolen from hotels, dog towels, useful empty plastic containers, 3 vacuum cleaners and any semblance of housekeeping skills I once possessed.
Yes, I have seen Hoarders. [clutching] Don’t make me throw out this yoghurt container! It’s REUSABLE!
Anyway, my original point was that for the past few weeks there has been stuff everywhere, which the dog has slowly decided must belong to him. He walks off with tile grout, electrical tape, bits of plasterboard and various objects of his choice from the pile above. Usually he just takes them outside and admires them, but sometimes he does some renovations of his own.
Well, one thing you can say is that he does a thorough job. Not a quitter, this dog. You’ll be pleased to know he didn’t touch the batteries, which saved him from a vet visit. And no, this remote was not in the pile of crap; it was in the lounge, with all the other remotes, on the ottoman. The sooner I get all this stuff up off the floor, the better.
I will not be disturbed here. He doesn’t play with these toys any more. He plays with all the NEW toys.
This renovating thing has some slight drawbacks. For example, if your laundry is spread from pillar to post, you’ll have to find another place to do, well, the laundry.
Step 1: Find a place with both a tap and a power point.
Step 2: Oh, and a drain.
Step 3: This place should not be the kitchen, directly in front of the sink, as the kitchen tiles are not finished and also the kitchen is then unusable for the length of a wash cycle, which is 1.5 hours.
Step 4: Yes, 1.5 hours. This front loader is 10 years old and likes to take its time. I imagine they’ve got faster over the years.
Step 5: The tap and the drain and the power point, remember?
Step 6: No, not the bathroom either, as it’s also being ripped to bits and currently has no taps. Or power points, come to think of it.
Step 7: We’ll settle for just the tap. And the drain. Don’t you have a tap just outside the laundry door?
Step 8: No.
Step 9: Find the outdoor tap. Not that one in the front garden, there must be another one.
Step 10: On the far corner of the house? Really?
Step 11: Far corner of the house, you say. Which is not undercover. And it’s directly in the middle of a rainy Melbourne winter. When I need 1.5 hours of non-rainy weather per wash cycle.
Step 12: It’s not raining right now GO GO GO. Where’s that long outdoor extension lead?
Step 13: Good thing we’ve got this handcart. I’m sure we’ll be going to hell on it soon.
Step 14: No, wait, that’s a handbasket.
Step 15: Enjoy your al fresco laundry experience! In between rain showers.
It’s fair to say that during this renovation, I have received a fair amount of help. I’m sure you remember Exhibit A as shown:
And that helpful effort is currently slap bang on the outside of the new front door, ready to greet you as you enter. It’s only the undercoat, but still, a great team effort. However once the door was up, clearly the helpering had to move on. Perhaps some helpering needed to be done under the house?
I was HELPING. OBVIOUSLY.
I don’t know what you are yelling about and I will stare airily in this direction until the yelling stops. Also my face is heavy.
And since the helpering was clearly under control below, perhaps someone could get going on the above?
Reading:
Stephen King, "Everything's Eventual". I found this abandoned in a suitcase.
Listening:
The snores of the Little Dog, who sadly seems just as loud and snorty at night as the Brown Dog.
Watching:
Endless episodes of UFC, which is some sort of fighting... thing. Do not want.
Eating:
I'm having a bit of an avocado binge. The Little Dog likes them too.
Liking:
Renovations! Apart from the cost of said renovations. Let's not think about that part.
Pondering:
If there is dirty washing in the basket, the cats ignore it... but if it is CLEAN, one of them has made a nest in there within 10 minutes. Five minutes, if it's black clothes.
