Day 283- May 31, 2010

Today, I went to a job interview and then decided I didn’t want the job. It’s just the kind of thing I do. No regrets, however. I got some shots of St Kilda and had a Grill’d burger for lunch on the beach. Good fun.

The job interview in question was with a promotional materials distribution company, the kind that go to cafes and wherever and stick up posters of Burt Bacharach and reggae festivals. Cool gig, no? I thought I’d give it a shot. So I showed up at the company’s warehouse in St Kilda. Pretty cool place. I think warehouses generally are, especially when they smell of paint and are filled with posters of cool things. But on the downside, if I took the job, I’d have to work whole days (as opposed to a flexible couple of hours here and there) and show up to St Kilda in the morning to pick up the stuff. So I turned it down, figuring that if I ever needed more money, I’d take on more hours at the job I have, or look for something casual and flexible closer to home.

As I said though, no regrets. It’s nice being by the beach, even if parts of it don’t smell so good. I really do like St Kilda; it’s close to the city, but feels like it’s further away (if that makes any sense). And I like that seaside resort town feel that it still has from when it actually was a rich person’s getaway in the early 20th Century. I love Melbourne history. I should read a bit more. Actually, I wouldn’t mind going back to Borders and looking their shelf of Melbourne-related books. Woo Melbourne!

Day 282- May 30, 2010

Oh dear. I’m having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction in that picture. Well, I started with a pretty dysfunctional wardrobe to begin with (denim jacket, unbuttoned shirt, gelled-back hair), but I guess there’s a limit to how open one’s shirt can be before a nipple pops out. Don’t worry. It’s very Russian. Somehow. Well, it’s very sleazy. And that’s pretty Russian.

The attire, of course, was specially for Eurovision. Do you think I dress like this normally? In any case, I’m sure glad that Alex and I drove in to the pub. I wouldn’t have lasted too long on public transport looking like this. I mean, I once got heckled for wearing a bow tie.

Anyway, the occasion was Eurovision, that annual contest of ridiculousness and very little actual musicality. What I find disappointing are the acts that aren’t incredibly daggy. It’s Eurovision, you idiots! Not Idol or some generic talent show. And what are you doing here, Britain? You’re not European, really, are you? There were, however, enough amazingly crazy or daggy acts to keep me interested tonight. Even if I couldn’t for the life of me see why Germany won. Bet it was rigged.

Once the performances finished, Alex and I got bored and came home, where we ate chips and 30 Rock. Good end to the night.

Day 281- May 29, 2010

Ok, so I was at work today and didn’t get any exciting photos. So I’m using one from last night, which was taken after midnight SO IT TOTALLY COUNTS. Also, it’s pretty funny. It’s Logan and James pretending to be on a rollercoaster. Those fellows should be in rollercoaster commercials. You know, the ones you see on TV. Anyway, so the story starts from when we left Shanghai Dumpling the previous night *shimmery flashback music*.

So yes. We were walking through the city, the lot of us. James and Alice were arguing about whether or not the iPad is a complete crock. I’m not sure what the others were doing, because I found this conversation immensely entertaining and kept baiting James. Despite Jackie’s complaints that the walk was too long (Lonsdale and Swanston to Little Lonsdale and Elizabeth… you decide), we made it to Little Peninsula, a bar at which we had ended up at James’ 19th last year. It’s a pretty cool place and I don’t know why I haven’t been there since, especially during the day, when they open as a cafe.

We went upstairs and played a game of musical chairs until we had pretty much commandeered the upstairs section. You know. The Josiah Method. There we sat and talked and drank wonderful things (espresso vodkatini, where have you been all my life?) and took ridiculous photos. Like ones of people pretending to be on a rollercoaster. Or pretty much anything involving Jackie. Or Charlotte, come to think of it. I’m not even going to upload that photo where she’s got us all posing like meerkats.

So there we stayed until it was time to leave, for the trains stop just after one am and James and I had work in the morning. So we said our goodbyes and walked to Flinders Street, where we enjoyed a lovely train ride to Clifton Hill, upon which we were herded onto buses that eventually got us home in the wee hours of the morning.

And then up at eight. Considering I’d come home around three, I didn’t feel too bad. Probably better to try to get home earlier on Friday nights before going to work, but it was a darned good night and worth every… whatever they measure fatigue in. I was feeling pretty good and enjoyed my Motorcar Karaoke Session to Flemington, where I drank tea and lamented the lack of imagination amongst today’s youth.

Then home (more Motorcar Karaoke) for the eating of croissants and the picking of clothes for tomorrow’s Eurovision pub party. I will look disgusting. Look forward to photos. I also did some work (hooray for me!), uploaded some photos and caught up on blogging. And now I’m exhausted. Bon soir!

Day 280- May 28, 2010

Hooray! More free peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast! I love psychological research.

Once I was breathalysed and it was established that the University of Melbourne could no longer be held responsible for any injuries, losses or death arising from the fact that they plied me with vodka the previous night, I called a cab and was on my way. To be “on one’s way” is an idiom which means standing on a street corner, waiting for a taxi that doesn’t come and then hailing another passing taxi due to frustration. It was one of those cab rides where you have a nice long chat with the driver. This fellow was from Iraq and was convinced that I was in “Army”, despite me repeatedly telling him that while I lived near army barracks, I was not and have never been in “Army”. Unlike his brother, who had been in “Army” for eleven years. Because of Saddam Hussein. Of course.

I vacuumed the house and managed to get some work done and even bought a denim jacket from Savers for Eurovision on Sunday. Heck yeah. I’ve got my Eurotrash costume ready and I will look revolting.

Anyway, it was off to the Theatre with me as I  was again front-of-housing (there has to be a better verb) for that crazy Japanese/Cabaret/devised piece. However, I didn’t stick around to watch the show but instead nicked off to (via being yelled at on the tram by a loonie going on about “faggot Serbians” and then almost being part of some Indian parade down Swanston Street) to Tattersalls Lane and the Shanghai Dumpling House (pictured). Since the semester’s finished (well, apart from exams), I decided to organise a dinner-and-drinks type of soirée.

I arrived at Tattersalls Lane and stood outside the restaurant, waiting for everybody else and watching the restaurant owner tell people off for various things. He actually told a group “Goodbye! Come back tomorrow!”. Dumpling Nazi? Anyway, James (sans hair) and Jackie arrived and we went in so as not to lose our reservation.

“Hi. I had a reservation for eight people.”

“One, two three. Not eight!!”

“Uhhh… our other friends are coming”

He just walked off. Oh well, part of the appeal of coming to this place is the almost theatrical nature of its eccentric owner. Who isn’t quite as scary as the Soup Nazi, because he’s a little Chinese man. Eventually, Charlotte and Logan and Alice and Simon showed up. And we all ate dumplings. And noodles. And weird bun things with sweet bean filling. And O God I’m hungry just thinking about it.

So after we ate our fill (it was all you can eat) and heard the damned Shanghai Dumpling Happy Birthday song about a dozen times and figured out how to pay (CASH ONLY NO SPLIT BILLS!), we left and were off. And that’s another story…

Day 279- May 27, 2010

Ok, so I’m writing this a few days late. Hopefully I can remember what happened on Thursday… argh!

It was the last day of semester (well, for those who don’t have class on Friday), and so I came in for one last Russian class and one last Psychology lecture. Well, till next semester, anyway. And the psych lecturer didn’t kill anybody, so that was pretty good.

I hung around a bit, attempting to do some work for Policy Making, but mostly listening to the Beatles. And then it was time to head off to the Psych building once again for the second night of the sleep study in which I was participating. God it’s weird being in Redmond Barry at night (pictured). I can imagine some horror movie being filmed there.

So it was another microwave dinner and another session of being wired up and lathered with electroconductive goo and another orange juice with a 50:50 chance of five vodka shots cocktail. Yeah. I felt that one. Sleep.

Day 278- May 26, 2010

The taxman’s taken all my dough and left me in this stately home. Well, not really. But I have been listening to The Kinks today. As far as music goes, I also downloaded the entire The Who discography, listening to 80s clips on Youtube and played some acoustic covers of Katy Perry songs on guitar. The amount of chords she uses is appallingly small. Verses, choruses, bridges. The same four chords. Over and over and bleeding over. Which of course makes it brilliant to cover in a variety of styles. Since I’ve got a cold and am losing my voice, I gave my Tom Waits impersonation a try.

I stayed at home, being sickly and all. This enabled me to sleep through half the day without feeling guilty, which is always a good thing. However, I did tidy up a bit and make a cake, so I wasn’t completely unproductive. An apple cake it was, the same one I made a few weeks ago. Or whenever it was. I have an appalling sense of time. I still can’t believe it’s 2010. Or May. Or Wednesday. How did that happen?

I took some photos as well. There’s a limit to how much you can photograph in the house, but I liked the way this old perfume bottle looked on the windowsill against the tree outside (pictured). I took quite a few shots, trying to get the warped and inverted image of the tree in the glass ball. It’s interesting from an optics perspective. The bottle is in focus and the tree (with yellow leaves) behind it is out of focus, but the image of the tree in the bottle is in focus. I wonder what the light ray diagram of that would look like? I guess the glass ball is equivalent to a very fat convex lens and when… oh God it hurts my head!

Day 277- May 25, 2010

Woke up. I had survived. The electrodes didn’t electrocute me and the researchers didn’t remove any part of my brain during the night. Well, not to my knowledge. Nothing important, anyway.

After breakfast, I took the lift down and began my lengthy 300m commute to Russian. Relatively uneventful. Room too hot. Blew my nose way too much. And so ended that chapter of my life (I also got exam revision worksheets! Wooo!).

Met with Jackie and Charlotte. We sat around drinking hot beverages (well, except for Charlotte, who ate crackers and other tasty and nutricious snacks) for a while and then went for pizza. Luckily, Jackie made less of a mess this time. Also, I got more Little Creatures! Hooray for the Student Union!

Being sickly and quite unenthused about staying a further three hours at uni and catching the peak-hour train home, I left early. This gave me the added benefit of coming home during daylight hours, and so I was able to take some more photos for my “Watsonia Grunge” set. Mmm rust. And a Coke can in an abandoned shopping trolley! What a statement on consumerism! Hurrah for daylight! Hurrah for tutoring until your voice completely dies! And hurrah for Indian food for dinner!

Day 276- May 24, 2010

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a headcold and a motorcar must not be in want of a rail-based journey to his Psychology tute. Because, seriously, why would I (he? get with the program!) want to spend a period of time longer than that which I would spend actually at the tute sitting on a train, which would probably be travelling at a speed no greater than that of a moderately fit cyclist? Plus, walking to the station. Those ten minutes take it out of you. Basically, I just wanted to use the word “motorcar”. It makes me feel old-fashioned and reminds me ever so slightly of Toad of Toad Hall. You know the one.

It wasn’t even that great a tute, being a non-examinable time-waster consisting primarily of the tutor reading off a powerpoint (at least black type in Times New Roman on a white background beats yellow Comic Sans on… anything) and playing clips from Hollywood blockbusters that were about mental illness. It was pretty depressing. It was like they had put together a montage of “Things That Can Go Wrong” to celebrate the end of the semester. Depression, schizophrenia, Angelina Jolie, you name it.

I then drove home in my motorcar (heh) and did pretty much nothing for several hours (when you are sick, doing nothing is called resting, a Recuperative Activity which is good for the economy and fun for the whole family). It was not until the evening that I stirred from my repose (read: watching ALL SIX episodes of Garth Morengi’s Darkplace) and packed for the night’s stay at the uni. If you haven’t been followed The Greatest Story Ever Told… On This Blog, I had volunteered to sleep in the Psychology building with wires attached to my head (well, for a princely sum of cash and vodka- no, really!). Being immensely proud that I managed to fit everything I needed for the night and the following day into my satchel, I caught a taxi (whooo free taxi vouchers!) to the aforementioned university.

Upon my arrival, I signed many, many things and was given money (which seemed a fair swap), followed by a microwave dinner (which looked revolting but didn’t taste half bad). I was then scrubbed with an exfoliating cream, slathered with electroconductive gel and sticky-taped to various electrodes. Once I was adequately Science’d Up, I was plied with a mysterious concoction (orange juice with a 50% chance of five shots of vodka) and sent to bed.

Day 275- May 23, 2010

Argh! Eugh! I woke up and my mouth was as dry as a dessert. I started getting a sore throat last night, which escalated into a head cold over night and being all blocked up I breathed through my mouth all night. This rendered me unable to say anything except “unddd ahh durrp” for a while.

Despite being generally displeased with my sinuses and all those parts of the head whose prime duties seem to consist of constantly saying “OH HEY YOU HAVE A COLD I THINK YOU MIGHT LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT IT SO I’LL KEEP TELLING YOU FOR A WHILE”, I managed to finish my assignment, which is just as well, seeing as it’s due tomorrow. I’m not sure well it’s written, but it’s in a nice font and my diagram was totally flipping awesome. It had error bars and everything! (That has to count for at least 20% of the grade, right?)

Feeling too bleurgh to do anything useful like vacuuming, I instead spent the rest of the afternoon watching 1960s informational films (such as this Sonny Bono piece on marijuana and this hilarious VD awareness film– “The scarring can cause sterility. Sterility, Linda!”). Andrew than came over and we watched Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace and Black Dynamite, a recent blaxploitation spoof. Can you dig it?

Photo? What photo? I was too busy and sick and stuff for most of the day, so when it came to it, I just photographed one of the many interesting little things we have lying around the house. It’s all very relevant to the general ambience of my life.

Day 274- May 22, 2010

Saturday mornings are less to my liking. And it’s getting cold. Brrrr. That means practically chiseling  ice off the car before going off to work. I know, I know. Everybody else has to do that. I just like whinging. Humour me.

I got to work, only to find that even more of the school is being renovated. I found this out by turning the corner to where my classroom normally is only to find the corridor boarded up and a sign (written by my boss) that was an affront to the English language. I’d try and remember how it went, but I think I’ve suppressed it. Needless to say, it was devoid of punctuation and any notion of spelling or grammar.

Instead, I taught in the staffroom, giving me a wonderful view of the M2 and the ability to have nine million cups of tea over the day. It wasn’t too bad. As always, the lesson for the Year 7 class was a lot more interesting, and involved reading the Jabberwocky and then making up nonsense words. The Year 8s had to read an extract from a book set in outback Australia. Eugh.

Then home, briefly, before going out for Rhys and Steph’s birthday. I caught the train in with Andrew, who was with a friend of his (that was going somewhere else). It became obvious fairly soon that she wasn’t quite normal. Shrooms will do that to you. Things like uncontrollable giggling and being freaked out by people’s shirts. There was also a girl in a corset and gold pants juggling. Trains are always fun.

We went first to a pub in Melbourne Central called The Lion. It was good to see people from high school I hadn’t seen in a while and the music didn’t make me want to vomit, so I’ll chalk that up as a win. After a while, we moved to the Toff, which was good. Didn’t really get too many photos of the night; I’m a bit self-conscious using flash in case it annoys people, and in any case it makes the photos look less interesting. Today’s Photo is instead a long-exposure one I took of people dancing at The Lion, with some waving of glow-sticks on the right.

We left and went to Maccas (of course) and then Scott drove me home. How nice of him. I lent him my Richard Branson autobiography in exchange. Quid pro quo, Agent Starling.