GroMoNo

We are currently in the midst of Mo'vember.  For those that don't know, this is a world wide charity event in which participants grow (or - just as often - attempt to grow) a moustache.  As such I'm currently rocking, if that is the right word, a luxuriant carpet of pure masculinity on my top lip.

 

Me: Yesterday

Honestly, it's not really a look that I am able to pull off and I suspect that it makes me look like a cross between a slightly confused Kevin Kline and a sex pest.  Somebody did say it made me look like Dave Grohl the other day - which was nice, I guess.  Somebody else said it put about ten years on me - which was less nice. Nevertheless, I am committed and shall have to endure the itchiness and the disquieting feeling that I have crumbs stuck on my top lip for the next three weeks.  Bob is also partaking and has gone for the handlebar he's had previously.

Got taken to one side at work.  Apparently I'm doing too much work and, when in future I've done all the work assigned to me, rather than asking for extra stuff to do, I should instead insert my thumb into my arse and whistle (note: this may not be the exact phrasing used).  I now spend five hours a day staring listlessly at my computer screen, mouth hanging loosely open, eyes glazed.  Next week I'll probably start laying minesweeper and solitaire, because I'm just mental like that.


There was a bit of panic at the beginning of the week.  After weeks of waiting, it became apparent that Bob's immunosuppressants had somehow disappeared between Blighty and Oz.  For those unaware, this situation is of the sort that gets filed under Big Fucking Deal, as he needs these so he doesn't fart out his transplanted kidney, turn purple and die (or something similar.  I don't know.  I'm not a doctor).  After being assured by the British Post Office that the package had landed here ages ago and by Australian post that they had received diddly and squat, he contacted home base to get fresh supplies sent express delivery ASAP... at which point the missing drugs arrived (natch).  Luckily a visit to the pharmacist revealed that items like prednisone and fauxnamezine can be got here at a price that ain't cheap, but at a price that wouldn't necessitate the sale of a limb.

Not really much to report other than that.  Number of people went surfing.  Couldn't join them because of work.  Korbi returned rocking the burns victim look.  Temperature is steadily increasing.  It now hurts a little to go out without sunglasses.  It's Schoolies at the moment (Aussie equivalent of Spring Break) and we found ourselves at a club rammed with 18-19 year olds who like to shout 'Whoooo!' a lot.  Alone, tipsy, feeling slightly old and very aware I'm rocking the worst tache since Stalin, I ended up kissing the same girl that I had  at the beginning the trip.  As far as I'm aware, there are no pictures this time. Sat in the botanical gardens yesterday enjoying the weather, doodling and reading.  Bob showed us the casino where he works.  It's very shiny and modern and smells of wealth and desperation.  There is also the world's greatest cake shop (a title I do not bestow lightly).   One was in the shape of the catbus from My Neighbour Totoro.  If you don't know what that is, then congratulations, you're cooler than me, along with 6,999,999,998 other people on the planet (Because fuck you Paul Reubens. Loser)

Love and Fishes

Dave Denton