time is still a-fying

Here I am again, a month into my new job selling the very thing I loathe most in technology - phones. Let me tell you, the novelty has worn off. I'm at the stage where I need to jump from job to job like a whore on heat until I find one that I can enjoy for longer than 4 weeks. Or at least until I'm rich and can smother myself in honey and lay amidst a crowd of lesbians. But as usual, I digress from an imaginary point. There have been ups, downs and horizontals. I have discovered new things and forgotten others. I have invaded Poland, saved the world and done something else that I'm sure was exciting. Ok, really I've just stared blankly at the sky, waiting for something to drop down before me - metaphorically at least.

Recently I purchased a new game and played it so much that when I closed my eyes, I could still see it. Oh glorious death. Actually there's a tale behind the ostensibly simple event of getting the above mentioned game. First, some background. I work two shops down from where I pre-ordered my copy. Naturally, I was working the day it arrived and so I was left a message. Now, I was scheduled to finish at a nice time that ensured I would be able to grab the game on my way home, but alas, it was not to be for the devious creature of time decided to... do something that delayed my finishing time. Torture 106. So, I waited patiently until the next day before finally walking into an open and very colorful store.

I remember the store attendants were both oddities; one of the guys had his pants up really high, and the other was a girl. She served me. But not before I kept a cautious eye on a guy with a creepy smile standing in front of me. I had to take evasive action and so I took a few steps back, then some more. And another one. Then, for two days, I was taken by the bliss of 48 hours without work and spent a good majority of that playing this sexy game, ordering an even sexier monitor and doing other stuff that I won't mention. Oh, I'm such a tease.

Other than that, I've restarted my second World of Words over at a shady gaming website full of Aussies. Oh, and Mr and Mrs Smith is a great movie. It's very sassy and fresh like the cup of tea I'm drinking. The first time I went to see it, I ended up missing out alltogether and decided to drive North as far as I could in 30 minutes. I made it 5 minutes out of Cairns. I rock the proverbial sock drawer. My petrol guage enjoyed moving inexorably downwards to settle below halfway, too. Lying bastard.

I think I had more to post about, but I lost it over the days of very latearly mornights. Write those words down. I'll leave on a final note...

The grass being greener on the side is only a relative thing. Think about it.

- Pary ζ.

Testing out this nifty software. 

passing time

I dare not even look at the date of my last post. I think it's a record or something, and I bet a sloth could post more frequently than I do. Of course, I don't trust sloths and their lack of speed. Shady creatures. Anyways, now that I have successfully sidetracked from the sad truth about my absence of text on this site, I shall promptly do a little dance. Done.

I'm guessing you need to know what's been happening over the many long months. Well, fret not, for I am about to tell you! And then I'll get down into a little-big rant of some sort...

First, my working status. Right now, I am an employee of Telstra, which deals primarily in communications, and that includes phones. I hate phones. This just means I can find out more reasons to hate them. Now, rewinding a bit, I was at a brand-spanking new wharehouse-type store, becoming a salesman for the first time. Long story short, it sucked. Long story long, it sucked because the work environment sucked (and had no Milo). Normally, I pride myself on having jobs that last years (as opposed to my relationships, which are very shortlived...), but in this case, it was just over a month. Might have been longer if it weren't from the completely unexpected phone call I recieved. I was hesitant to answer it, assuming it was a customer enquiry. I was busy. So glad I listened to my instincts or whatever and got that call. It was like a dream where you're at home, bored and frustrated and suddenly a throng of super hot babes burst in and... change things. So now I'm a much happier, sparkling (and sexy) salesman, working casually with plans to write, become multi-linguistic and get a 2-hour massage. Here's my card, lets do lunch.

In other news, I've taken a sudden liking for tea and all things tea-like, which is really just tea. Thankfully, I haven't started talking funny or anything too British. It's jus' a cu' o' tea, know wha' I'm sayin'? No danger there, ladies and gentlespoons. I'm as Australian as someone who has Italian blood in them. Or whatever.

Moving right along to the part where I inform you of more interesting things in my life. For instance, my plans to make the Big Move. To Melbourne. With lots of Big Buildings, Big People and Big Amounts of Said People. It's Big News, my friends. No, you can't come with me. I suppose I can explain my reasons for planning this shift. It's simple, really. You live in a tourist destination long enough and you suddenly realise that it's small, full of Japs and not much happens. Unless you're a Jap. To prove my theory, I will mention that I was about the only local person when I went to Green Island for a day. I haven't seen that many foreigners since my trip into town. Nuff said. It's not that I don't like them, it's that I don't like living in a tourist place. End of semi-rant.

Ack, it's 11pm, and I have a meeting in the morning. I should day-break it. I'm sure driving isn't dangerous when you've had no sleep... That reminds me, Jamster should liquidate itself in a pool of its own marketing slime. And "Crazy Frog" can rot in animated hell. Shit idea, shit product, shit company, shit mascot and shit advertisements. There isn't enough painful things to describe what I want to do them. It's a fad gone wrong, just like every other sudden marketing boom. An idea props up, becomes popular and suddenly 10,000,012, 311.246 other small, no-hope businesses try and use it to make money. And fail, because they suck at ideas. And life. It's now 11:01pm, and I feel a little better about letting that out. Only took a minute as well.

Next up, is the fact that I'm now an uncle to someone else. Yes, my sister gave birth to another boy, forcing my mother to inform me that she'll be over my house alot when I have a kid. Why she said that is beyond me, but hey, I guess she felt guilty about something. Crazy woman. Or women. On that note, a woman is the most fiendish instrument of torture ever devised to bedevil the days of man. Such a profound statement. My theory is that it's because "women" starts with "double-u." The "I want to be different and have three syllables" letter. Firstly, it uses another letter to describe itself, which funny enough isn't even a good description. Looks more like "double-v" to me. Secondly, every other letter has a sound of sorts, or just one word to describe it. Not "w" though. Or should I type "uu"? Maybe I should rewrite the entire alphabet to suit this devious letter. Lets see what happens:

A -> "Inverse v"
B -> "I eight"
C -> "half o"
D -> "I backwards half o"
E -> "I three lines"
F -> "I three lines minus one"
G -> "half o with extra"
H -> "double I joined"
I -> "I"
J -> "almost I"
K -> "I less than"
L -> "I footed"
M -> "inverse double v"
N -> "ninety-degree z"
O -> "double half o"
P -> "I small half o"
Q -> "balloon"
R -> "I small half o legged"
S -> "nice curves"
T -> "I like roofing"
U -> "u"
V -> "v"
W -> "double v"
X -> "falling two I"
Y -> "split I"
Z -> "inverse ninety-degree ninety degree z"

Phew. That was an effort, and pretty bad. But that's English for you. Let us hope they never use my idea, because I would truly go mad and do something crazy, like ask for peppercorn in my salad.

I promised myself that I would make this an extremely long post to keep everyone and their family entertained for at least 10 minutes. But alas, I have just about run out of wind and am about to beach myself on an island full of bikini-clad females. Oh woe is me. Yarr.

Before I go, I must say there's been very many a Milo day recently. Both literally and metaphorically. Goodnight!

- Pary ζ.