On the way to collect lucky red packetsChinese New Year sort of crept up on me this year. Normally, there is a flurry of activity preceding the new year, this year however, I wasn’t at home at the right hours to witness any ruckus. I knew a new lunar month was starting because my expensive new Pillipe Stark clock indicated a new moon was coming up. Anyway, new year is here and alas, this year marks the second cycle of my life – I am a dog and am turning 24.
Significant changes are foretold according to the horoscopes which I do not read or believe in. But turning 24 this year is scaring me. I am fast approaching middle life and I still haven’t achieved the ultimate teenage boy dream. The one that every boy has growing up, imaging what it is like to experience his first time, his first million dollars.
I dreamt of wonderous things of unrivilled quality, class and prestige. But the vestiges of inflation have rendered that million dollars spare change in today’s multimillionaires. Based on current income figures, I am expected to work until old age before I achieve that dream. I will have to travel many roads full of twists, u-turns and dead ends before I can realise the ultimate dream and everyone will tell you that I walk at a pace that can only be described as astonishingly slow.
But all is not lost because at least I have a new pair of expensive Prada shoes to enjoy that walk.
Have a prosperous new year and remember to keep your eyes peeled for loose change dropped by careless people.
On the way to look for a tissueI hate summer. The heat, humidity and long sunny days simply drive me up the proverbial wall. While everyone is outside enjoying the weather, walking in the park, playing sport and just generally being exposed to ultraviolet light, I am unashamedly trying to stay indoors, preferably with a refreshing glass of chilled shiraz. I prefer the simplicity and comfort of colder weather because in summer, with high humidity and high temperatures, things can get very uncomfortable.
The other day, I finished work and proceed to the nearest underground train station and I walked into an oven set on medium roast with the steamer function on. The atmosphere in the station was foul - it was extremely hot, no circulation of fresh air and it stunk of a mixture of body odour and evaporated urine. Naturally in this situation, a person starts to perspire to cool down their body. I started to perspire. As I reached desperately into my bag to look for a tissue or my soon be acquired expensive designer handkerchief to wipe the sweat off my brow, I started to panic as sweat was slowly but surely beginning to run down my face. Not very chic.
And at that moment, I saw a woman walking along the platform wearing a black low cut tank top exposing the top of her ample breasts. Not being one to stare at a women's breast as I always start with the shoes as they tell more about the person, I was quite surprised when my eyes locked onto a small patch fluffy white stuff. As she slowly approached, I noticed she had stashed some tissues between her breasts - the perfect storage place for such things and one women should utilise more often.
As my hand slowly reached out to this most ingenious of women, I tilted my head slightly up and my hand recoiled back along side my body for I had just caught sight of her face and I felt a prang of sympathy for her. She needed those tissues because she too was perspiring. You could tell by the sweat forming on her not so faint moustache.
On the way to the gym to pick up the free newspaperThe annoying thing about the New Year is everyone's insistence at making new year's resolutions that will inevitably fail. And far worse is people's desire to shout it out from the top of a 50 storey tower so the whole building has to hear about it. I'm sick of new year's resolutions, it is like giving the poor your spare change but only to take it back when you realise that you have given too much, far more than they deserve. It is creating false hope.
For that reason, I am going to make new year's resolutions that will not fail so in 350 day's time, I will be able to look back and declare that I have not broken them. I am going to make resolutions that will lead to a better me, something that will make Oprah proud.
So in 2006, I am going to:
1. Drink more and more often
2. Exercise less
3. Destroy my credit cards
4. Establish a substance abuse addiction
5. Sleep my way up the next rung of the corporate ladder
On the way to the doctor’s surgeryGrowing up, I use to love going to the doctor’s office. I use to go around every fortnight and it wasn’t because I was constantly sick. I use to love walking through the door, handing the assistant my Medicare card and sitting anxiously waiting for the doctor to call out my name.
Sitting in the surgery, I always felt calm and relaxed even when the doctor was telling me the benefits of a healthy lifestyle and the benefits of eating plenty of fibre. At the end of the visit, I usually walk out clutching precious packets of orange flavoured laxatives and lollypops.
I miss going to the doctors. Now with my busy schedule, there is not much time to waste sitting down to get free stuff. However, the other day, I booked an appointment with a city based doctor and waiting in the new doctor’s surgery, I watched the assistant whip out a pre-EFTPOS contraption and with a slip of paper, she placed my Medicare card down, placed the piece of paper on top and swiped the machine.
Then it hit me. I now know why I went to the doctor so often. My Medicare card has been acting as a feeder to credit card. It is a credit card. You delay payment for a service that you end up paying with your taxes. The card is plastic, has raised numbers, has an expiry date and has your name on it. At the end of it, you get a slip of paper that you sign on.
In my teens, I never had a credit card and in its place, I have been subconsciously using a Medicare card. Thank heavens for free healthcare. Curse the government for the Medicare surcharge.
