I knew this bloke once…

A bloke came up to me while the dog and I waited for the family outside the supermarket. He spoke a bit strangely, so I wondered if the bandage on his throat was covering some sort of hole.

“I like Kelpies. I bet she’s good at rounding up sheep, mate.”

“I dunno about that. I reckon if you put her in with a mob of sheep, she’d just chase them around and spread them all over the paddock.”

“You never know about dogs, mate. I knew this bloke once. Had a hobby farm with about 100 sheep. I went to visit him one day and he goes and rounds em up using this stupid looking Chihuahua. The bloody thing got em in the pen in no time. I swear.”

“Gee, I dunno, sounds a bit like a tall story to me. A bloody Chihuahua? Nah, I reckon you’re pulling my leg.”

“Fair dinkum, mate. As I live and breath.”

 

Nice dog, mate

Waiting outside IGA Supermarket, Heathcote, January 2011

Cold as an Eskimo’s …

Last night I watched an Australian movie: “Roly Poly Man”; about a pretty low rent private detective and his attempts to solve a series of murders.

Lots of good verbal and sight gags, but my favourite line was:

“I’m colder than an Eskimo's bum at a fart lighting contest.”

Fresh $5

We drove to Heathcote last weekend and saw lots of people selling produce at the side of the road.

One bloke had a big sign “Fresh $5” on the roof of his station wagon, but there was no clue as to what he might be selling.
We speculated:

Maybe he’s selling fresh ideas.

Maybe Tony Abbot should pay a visit. Surely he could find something better than Barnaby’s idea of raising the height of all the damn dam walls to stop flooding.
(What about upstream of the higher walls Barnaby? What about the cost Barnaby? What if the dams are already full, B…?)

The bloke was there again on the way home next day. We still couldn’t see what he was selling, but didn’t stop.
Best we keep guessing …

Happy New Year, Mate

Early on New Year’s morning, I sat in an old sofa on the verandah of our friends’ house in Nirranda (near Warrnambool) – watching the birds claiming the day.

One bloke sat on the table in front of me. I think he said g’day.

He may have been a superb blue wren. (He was superb, he was blue and he was a wren)

Rapper Romance

 

There have been quite a few parties next door over the last few weeks.

One afternoon the son had his mates around to listen to some rap (and kindly included any neighbours who might be outdoors).

I managed to switch most of it out while I read my book, but one song broke through the barrier.
It repeated variations on the following refrain for a good three minutes:

I’m gonna fuck you tonight, fuck you tonight … I’m gonna fuck you; fuck you; fuck you tonight.
…

I’m pleased to know that romance lives on in this modern age.

Well Travelled

Collins Street, Melbourne: Lunchtime.

Boxing Day Test - Day 3

‘Would you like to deflate that thing, sir?’

I went to cricket with my son, Mark on Tuesday. First time I’ve been for a good decade.
I had no real passion for it, but Mark suggested and I went.
On Christmas day, he’d said: ‘It’s a chance to sit together quietly and talk about shit.’ And thus we did.
I loved it. I suspect that Mark wanted to relive some of our past trips to the G for Boxing Day Test.

At some stage during the day, someone in the Barmy Army blew up a condom like a balloon and it floated up and landed in front of a couple of empty seats in our row.

Before I knew it this young female cop reached over and tried to hand me a biro: ‘Would you like to deflate that thing, sir?’
’Err, not really.’
So she pushed past with the biro poised and did it herself.
… and she didn’t even wait until the end of the over.

‘Very strange, hey mate. Why would that affront her?’
’Dunno, Dad. Bloody weird… I wonder why you didn’t suggest that she tazer it.’
One of those ‘I should have said…’ moments.

Mark and I have agreed to just sit and watch again soon.
Maybe beside a river next time.