4 August 2008
Over the weekend I watched the whole first series of Underbelly. Phew, that's some good tele! Dare I say it, the best gangland cop dramatisation since Blue Murder...or Cop Shop. That chick who played Roberta Williams was awesome, although she reminded me a lot of Fiona. You've gotta love the Aussie spirit of television production which lets every single actor in the country have a role...kind of like the thespian equivalent of the lucky dip at the school fete. Who'd have thought Channel 9 would have the cohones to make something like that, let alone air it. And let me say how glad I am to see a bit of boosie back on the small screen. I understand people in Victoria still aren't allowed to watch it cos it's on past their bed time or something...
Bit of a quiet time on the work front as the leave year draws to a close and everyone desperately tries to use up their holidays or lose them in the changeover. There's a few people leaving the team so we had a work do at this Brazilian BBQ place (that's right, Brazilian...no one had any pubes). You grab yourself a plate of token salad and then spend the rest of the night fending off these dudes who bring over great hunks of roasted meat on swords and slice it off right there at your table. It was awesome! And SO tasty...it was a cavalcade of carnivorous goodness. There was a fair amount of groaning and straining to dislodge the morning after meat plug, but it was worth it.
Afterwards we went bowling, which is always tops fun, but even more enjoyable after your fifth dark and stormy when you decree that everyone has to do a little dance after each spare or strike. Fortunately, we were all on fire and the strikes were coming thick and fast, like a Japanese bukkake moofie. Unfortunately, most of us are white guys so we very quickly ran out of dances and had to suffice with poorly-timed high fives and lewd thrusting motions of our groinal areas.
On a sad note, Staci (that's not my name!) and I broke up. Truth be told, it was me who did all the breaking, and I feel like a real jerk. Admittedly, we're very different people and at first I thought that would work because if you're both the same it's like dating yourself, right? But it didn't seem natural, like I was trying too hard to overcome the differences, I just didn't feel it. Which is fucked up because she's an awesome lady: smart and pretty and funny and cute and sensible and honest and generous and sensitive. So why didn't I feel it? What are you, Sigmund Freud? How the feck do I know. I can't change the way I feel and for better or worse I have to trust my feelings...even if my insides are broken and stupid. Jerk!
The good news for her is that, if Fate is true to form, the next person she meets will be the love of her life...
On Sunday I needed to clear my head so I braved the rain and went for a ride to Harlow, about 20 miles north of Clapton. I'd bought Sweaty Betty some new shoes (ie. pedals...it's not easy to athropomorphise a bicycle, you know), pretty gold numbers that scream 'slut' but whisper 'with money'. Of course it pissed down the whole way there and, even though there's some lovely towns and countryside to ride through, you're still on the motorway so it's pretty dismal ride. Luckily, I was surrounded on both sides by Epping Forest so on the way back I went off road and hit the single trails and was able to make it almost all the way home without having to touch the tarmac. The rain eased up and there wasn't a great deal of mud so it turned into a really nice ride; the forest is deep and lush and quiet, the smell of the wet earth, enough hills to make you feel like you worked for it and enough lengthy downhill runs so you could let rip and feel like a ten year old on your first bike. I'm paying for it today, though, mainly in the calfal and goochal regions.
The bright sunny days are becoming fewer and the rain is falling all the more frequently these days. This is both a literal and a figurative observation...a change is coming, I fear.