fatman Find the clues!

Friday, May 30, 2003

Prisoner of Route 57

Most of you don't know Josh. A gifted, yet eccentric lad, a graphic arts-type dude who has recently quit a high paid job for Urchin Graphics (they do catalogue work for surf companies and the like) to concentrate on his artwork. Now don't knock this. His "art", to an uncouth cretin like yours truly, looks more like stick figures engaging in pseudo-philosophical conversation. This one piece- on A4 paper, fetched for around $800. I'm getting to the point...

Caught up with Josh today, just bumming around North Melbourne (him, not me). Claims he wanted to see the sights and sounds of N.M. That, I believe, was his first mistake. You don't walk or drive to the hood- you gotta tram it.

The infamous Tram 57- the West Maribinong (sp?) is something you have to ride to get the full appreciation of it. Just the other day I took it to go to the city. There's that fat, smelly guy who always seems to be on it. His lard arse takes up two seats, which is a bit of an inconvenience- but not so much as the putrid stench that surrounds him. Passengers around him hold their breaths and, I shit you not, the smell lingers in your clothing for days on end. It reminds me of that episode in Seinfeld where that car attendant leaves his odour in the car. Easier to burn your clothes that to try to get the smell out.

Now if you aren't on heroin or methodone you tend to feel a little left out, but let us eavesdrop on an actual conversation that happened not long ago.
Junkie Ex-Con:(sluggishly) Boy, I'm really enjoying my freedom. It's been 12 months.
Girl next to him: Really? Where have you been?
Junkie :Jail.
Girl: Oh, what were you in for? Trafficking? Murder?
Junkie: Heh, heh. Nah. (spaces out)
Girl: No, It wouldn't be murder. You'd still be inside.
Junkie: It was Assault.
Girl: Oh.
Junkie: Yeah. I Assaulted a mate.
Girl: That's no good.(cheerfully) So, are you guys friends again..or..
Junkie: Naww. I assaulted him with a deadly weapon.

Any closure on this dialogue was interrupted by Bourke street when everyone got off. But you get the general idea. And that was about it for the day. Josh went to the Vic Market ( 'I tend to avoid it usually. I get too tempted to walk out of there with a sombrero or a huge, novelty moustache. Or a large box of qumquats.') and I finished my washing.

Next Week: Haze gets evicted!

Push the Tempo,

Thursday, May 22, 2003

Taking Out the Trash Day

1:45-North Melbourne
Having my sleep interrupted by a couple of yahoos, I was obliged to go and have lunch at the local cafe, the Hot Poppy. My previous 'local' - the Peppermint, a lovely, comfotable coffee joint, run by a couple of friendly lesbians, was crumbling away and deemed "unfit for human occupation" by the council so second best would have to do. Most people tend to be disgusted when you tell them 12 o'clock is an early morning for you, but then again, 'most people' do not spend enough time arguing with foreigners at four a.m. that one does not shoot back or have two shots on the black.
'When was the last time you checked your e-mail' (Jenkins)
'er....a while ago.' (me)
'Don't bother.' (Wal)

It wasn't too bad in the end. Courtesy of Messers Tangen, Jenkins, McCurry and Miss Smith the sum total was: Glenn McGrath tell Lara to fuck off, stupid people ask stupid questions to Aussies, nude sumo wrestlers (mmm..yeah), Women's classifieds, recycling nagging... wives and the real-life Beavis and Buttheads break IN to women's prison to try to score with chicks. Oh, and Gerard sticks metal things into his face.

My life? I sent an SMS to one of my co-workers - the lovely Miss Belinda George. For those of you unaware of my attention span - I start off by saying something like; 'Let's catch up for lunch' but by the end of the message it involves edible lingerie. I don't know - that's why I try to keep my phonecalls short. Anyway, I send the message, fully forgetting that she has lent that phone to her father, who will be extremely curious to find out why one of his daughter's colleagues would like to see him in edible lingerie.

My adopted cousin, Jesse, with whom I have a Tom Cats-esque bet to see who gets married last (incidentally I am spending the $10, 000 already) wants me to catch up with tommorrow him before he goes back to Camberra. I also have the option of playing poker with a couple of Norwegian girls.
Hmmm. Ponderous.

Oh, and in the time I took to come back from lunch (thanks boys), go upstairs to the dunnies and come back down again, my housemates tell me they are all thinking about moving house. Total time elapsed- eight minutes 23. D'oh. Homeless again. Until next time friends.

Don't be a fool. Stay in School.
Van Fatman, party liason

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Big Mamma's Day

I've got that reccuring dream doc. Always around this
time of year I have nightmares about mum chasing me
around with a coathanger. Dennis Miller had a skit
about half-price Mother's Day cards: 'I can't believe
you f_cked Dad!'. I'll throw the arena open to any and
all who can come up with something better.

Went to Wal's house (For those who do not know who
Wal is- he is not important) for a dinner not long
ago. It was not a great catch up session with him - he
lay in bed upstairs slipping in and out of
consciousness due to "food poisoning". This "food
poisoning" is code, I believe, for binge drinking, but
he will never admit this. Anyhoo - he has on his
refridgirator (sp?) a set of 'Ye Olde English' word
magnets which I was quite amused by. For those who
haven't seen these there are about 400 words that can
be rearranged, usually during a drunken moment, to
form amusing thoughts and sentences such as 'Put thine
willy into thy wench' (the only one I remember off the
top of my head). Retailing for about $45 bucks a pop.
Guys - use any pretext necessary to buy a set of these.

Amuse your friends, Impress your enemies!

Who was that masked Fat man?