A typical morning for me: -
"Good Morning. Has it been busy? Yeah, just the usual to go please"
……
……
……
"Thanks. Have a good day. I’ll see you later"
And what is the usual? A plain old skinny latte. Life doesn’t get any better when you walk into the coffee shop and the barista knows exactly what you want without you having to describe it. Life is even better when you develop the relationship where you don’t have to worry about paying directly. I just drop my off money on the bench, pick up the change from a little bowl besides the till and stamp my coffee card…………twice.
I have become something of a regular down at the coffee shop, in the mornings; before lunch; during lunch; in the afternoon before five o’clock. It is where the cool and powerful people go to get coffee and something to eat. Me, I just like to be seen and I like the couches they have there, situated just below the plasma hanging off the wall. I go to get away from the hectic pace of work, to somewhere relaxing and a million miles away from worries of deadlines and emails, all of which ironically, is only situated just next door. It is a relaxing place where the smell of freshly ground coffee brews with the fragrance of the toasted bread drizzled with the smell of olive oil, all the hallmarks of a good coffee shop, just like the one in Friends or in Seinfield or in Felicity or in Sex and the City or in all those New York based sitcoms. I think this is a symptom of affluenza where my penchant for hanging out in urban cool spots stems from my need to live in a highly urbanized and populated neighbourhood i.e. Manhattan/Paris.
Life has been well in the past fortnight. Besides my gripes with the public transport system and my need to shoot all the bureaucrats who run the system and the union officials that control it, exacerbating my desire to live in a metropolis, as at today, I am reliving my past where the mounting debts is quickly shadowing any liquid funds I have. What am I saying? My debts are greater than my funds. Alas, I am broke, again. Why? Because I bought a new car. When I say I, it is me and my siblings. And when I say new, I mean undriven ex-demo. And when I say bought, I mean leant my money towards the new car. I plan to pay my contribution off, but in slow installments as to minimise the effect on my cashflow. So from now on, it is goodbye second cup of coffee, goodbye to take out lunches, goodbye to good old English bloke magazines and a big and sad goodbye to dining out.
And about that last goodbye, I haven’t exactly stuck to it. The other night, it was my misfortune to end up at a dinner table that was too small and too long forcing me to converse with people directly around me which coincidently, I ended up stuck between people I didn’t like and people I didn’t know. I’m having confusion as to which group I dislike the most and I’m leaning towards the group of people that I do know. Anyway, it was someone’s birthday *whom was mentioned early on in the existence of this blog* and I must confess, I only went because of the free feed as she was paying for it, which later on in the night, I discovered she had coupons for! Oh my god, how embarrassing. Anyway, I think I was the only one that knew this because I noticed that everyone around me was only ordering one dish and when it came to my turn, I chose something from each section of the menu. At least I got my monies worth. I mean, I did buy her a present…albeit from that $10 CD store on Pitt. But she deserves it. So a big happy birthday to her. I guess I should look on the bright side. I was able to catch up with some old friends from high school *BTW, everyone I knew there was from high school and I haven’t seen most of them in close to a year*, brought together by the dislike of the birthday girl and everyone else there. So it was a good night. But what made it an even better night was when dinner finished and at nine thirty I asked:
"What is everyone doing now? How about drinks? Newtown Hotel?"
while standing outside the typical uni-student oriented/cheap restaurant
‘No thanks, another time’
"Why not? We haven’t seen each since last year and it’s only nine thirty!"
while flashing my Cartier to ensure they knew the time
‘Yeah, it’s getting too late. We should be going home’
This left me dumbstruck and in awe that a group of adults could contemplate nine thirty as late, all on a twenty-first birthday, not even time for a celebratory drink. This just reminded me why I don’t talk to these people. If spending six years (over ten in some cases) growing up together doesn’t justify spending an extra half an hour to catch up on each others lives, then I don’t want to know. I know that not everyone likes a Stella in the middle of the night, but not even my suggestions of the cosy Gloria Jeans could persuade them to stay. I’m tired of trying to catch up with them. I spent more time making new friends that night than with old friends. I see why they don’t like me. So some old friends *these are the people I like* and I stayed a few good hours down in some seedy bar on King where we talked, caught up and generally bitched/dissed/gossiped/bad mouthed the people we didn’t like, which were reconfirmed that night.
So now I leave you, with a kind of bitter feeling instead of me. It is hard to describe. I guess it is a cross between that feeling of loss and that feeling of hope. Hope that I will be able to catch up with some old friends I like and that the public transport system will improve and people will leave their newspapers on the seats for me to find and read, where I discovered a photo of George Gregan on the back of the Telegraph, which did a lot to lift my hopes and spirits. Why? Because he was on the way to board a plane carrying no less, a Louis Vuitton, the epitome of travel and style. That will be me one day.
That is me.
on the way to spend $9.95 on a magazine that is two months behind and six months ahead
It has been one strange week for me. First, I was the supervisor at work for the week because my manager was away on leave and everything was left to me to handle, because, believe it or not, I had the most experience there. I admit, it felt good, to be able to sign my name on documents and going “Yeah, that’s fine. Just go ahead,” even though I didn’t know what I was signing, but that is an issue for compliance to deal with. But with that added temporary responsibility came the longer working hours. And that is what I did. Naturally, I only stayed back at work when the Head of the department was there….is this ethical?
And yes, I did spend $10 on the English Esquire. And yes, it was $10 because, due to my misfortune, as I ran towards the closing doors of the train, the five cents slipped away from my frost bitten hands and bounced and rolled and fell into that little ravine between the platform and the train. No big loss because I’m still $1.95 up from last week.
Friday night also saw me venture out to King Street wharf to a, dare I say, quite a good bar. The atmosphere was great, people were great and the prices were reasonable. Dinner, on the other hand was somewhat disappointing. Things weren’t looking good when drinks took a while to arrive and I wasn’t given a menu. The nerve! And things definitely didn’t look good when, in small print at the bottom, it said “Minimum charge of $35 per person on Friday and Saturday night.” Utterly ridiculous. Verdict: no amount of good food can compensate for poor service. Naturally, I paid by VISA with no tip. It is at times like these I wish I had AMEX, which, coincidently, I’m thinking of getting for this exact reason.
But the real highlight was the trip home. After everyone disappeared somewhere, I walked NB to her bus stop and had a meaningful chat. It is at these moments where I appreciate my life right now. The things I have and the thing I don’t have. Wish I could elaborate. So after waiting thirty five minutes for a train, I found an empty carriage and found a spot close to a window so I could rest my arms. So as I looked at the window at Town Hall, I caught the gaze of this man who was sitting alone on the platform benchess when lo and behold, he winked his left eye, licked and plucked his lips. Disgusting! Of course I turned around to see who he was doing this to and this is when I realized it was me he was interested in. I turned back, and with all the experience of my life, I gave him a look that said “Whatever. I don’t think so. You’re not even on my list of eligible partners. Do you think you look like Paris Hilton? Are you even look rich? Loser!” So as the train pulled out of the station, I felt relieved and dirty. So for the whole trip back, I only had one thing on my mind, Paris.
So when I got to Fairfield, I kicked myself for not calling a taxi because Fairfield was dead quiet, just like a typical Sunday. Not one to sit and wait, I started to walk home and was hugely appreciative that it wasn’t that cold. After fifteen minutes in the cold, I caught the sight of a car with a little glowing light on top. After almost getting run over when I jumped in front of it, I caught a taxi the rest of the way home. But wait, there’s more. After cursing the vehicle for not having eftpos, I paid my fair and stepped out of the taxi after the fare reached $10, leaving me an extra two hundred or so meters to walk. When I turned the corner, I was confronted with a number of police cars blocking the road and one of the officers started to walk towards me. Curiously, I asked who’s the celebrity that’s in the neighbourhood. But he just asked me where I was headed and where I came from, to which I replied “Go to
www.tyarrhea.blogspot.com.”
By the way, apparently there was a shooting. All of sudden I’m living the Bronx without the perks of New York City.
On the way to pick up my beloved
The previous week has been one, ummm, *struggling to find the words* experience that I don’t think I will encounter again for a long time. At work, it was the end of the financial year and after a big celebratory lunch, things started to pile up, culminating in me working overtime four days in a row! I know, it is preposterous, considering that I receive a salary and not a wage. At least I was able to savor three free dinners and two taxi rides home, with one of them costing over $90, which I think includes the motorway tolls. How can a taxi cost over $90, well it did and unfortunately for me, I didn’t use credit but I did experience my first cab charge and frankly, its not as exciting as credit cards – there is glimmer of the hologram or glitter of the word VISA.
Coupled with my recovery from my flu/cold/infection, I’m incredibly tired from work and I don’t think I would have survived if it wasn’t for the fact that one of our colleagues always, come every hour, volunteered to go and get coffee for us all. “Thank you” is what I say and “Where is the stamp on my card? I’m one away from a free coffee! Go back and get it stamped!!!!”
I’m so horrible.
This week also saw the State of Origin final with Fitler playing his last game and Gould coaching his last and what a game it was. Although Queensland really wasn’t playing up to the standard of their previous game and that night also saw the emergence of new players who will, eventually, give Fitler a run for the ball. Why do I know so much? Because I was forced to listen to the game on AM radio (!!!) on the aforementioned taxi ride home and besides the stomach twisting commentary that was going, I say, it wasn’t that bad because someone or something in my head kept singing “At first I was afraid, I was petrifieded……..I will survive, hey hey” And survive I did.
Friday night also saw me enjoy after work drinks at the Skygardens bar where the tightarse in us all emerged for the first time in a long while. How? Well, GM emerged from the dark and handled us little coasters belonging to the bar but upon closer inspection, it marked the words “Buy 1 get 1 free.” We were hooked.
But I guess the money we saved was soon spent on a laid back and laddish dinner, steak at Kingsly’s where we celebrated a boys night out for WS birthday. No, there were censored bits, no farting, no sexist jokes, no squeezing and no ******. It was quite well behaved. It was my first foray into the paradoxical world that is Woolloomoolooo where the ab*’s and junkies sleep in the street and the rich and famous sleep in warehouses and if Sydney City Council used bigger and more powerful street sweeping trucks, I wouldn’t mind moving into the area. I mean, to have Delta as a neighbour, I’m more than willing to put up with the antics of Russell Crowe and that ethnic tennis player *forgotten his name, oh yeah, something Poo*
But the real highlight of the week came after dinner and after a few drinks and a few shots, we ended up at Star City where my intuition was in full swing. Strutting along with my designer and showcased coat looking for
my parents a black jack table, I thought to myself “I shouldn’t walk with my head held so high, why are walking like a dickhead? Act normal, your eyes should be looking at the ground” and sure enough, when I lowered my head, my eyes rested on something that just sparkled under the flashing kaleidoscope of colour of the pokie machines – a $2 coin! Naturally, I bent down as quick as I can before another Asian could beat me to it and I picked it up and held it high. Nothing in the world could describe how I felt! Elation, ecstasy, joy and happiness! But the most powerful feeling I felt was hope. Hope that there might be another $2 around the corner. So while WS was gambling my money away at the black jack table and BE was looking for a bar to get us a drink and the others were *they’d better have been* looking for a rich old women for me, I strolled around the pokies looking for my fortune.
So after a couple of unsuccessful rounds, I gave up my search, more than content with my initial find because now, I am full of hope; hope that I will find another $2 around the corner if I didn’t gaze so far and high up in the sky.
Moral of the story: always look at people’s pockets and if there is hole, follow them because the likelihood that they’ll drop money is extremely high.
So now I leave you again, for another week. I hope everything is well and I especially hope that my beloved is safe, healthy and functioning again after spending three weeks away being looked after, cared for and brought back to full health. I don’t know what was wrong with her, but I was glad that her prognosis was good even though they said that there was something wrong internally and would probably had to undergo surgery. I admit I was scared because I could feel that her heart wasn’t beating properly and that I’ll never see her again so now I promise that I will cherish her everyday and never take her for granted. She means so much to me and has been with me through some of my most difficult moments. I’m so glad that she’s back and I look forward to spending my lonely nights with her again.
I miss you, Tank Francaise.
