The radius of ugly

It seems fairly well established that trouble seems to follow me. I just seem to have a whirlwind of outrage and unhappiness wherever I happen to be. I didn’t manage to get into too much trouble, but I did get into some.

Now, as it is also painfully aware, I like trains. Like a lot. So, going to Melbourne, with many train lines is going to have me going for train rides, for no other purpose than to go for train rides. I would also be the sort to take some photos of trains. For posterity sake, plus there are not a great deal of trains in Perth.

Now, with the benefit of hindsight (and looking into it at all), it turns out you need a friggin permit to do this. So, I guess this whole rant falls apart, because I was a douche.

But nevertheless, I whip the camera out at Southern Cross station and promptly get told to put it away (more on this later). I pulled it out at Melbourne Central and much the same response. I pull the camera out at Parliament, and out of fucking nowhere, the photo police guy pops out and tells me off. I can’t understand how someone got a few photos of those stations in the wikipedia articles. Fucking bullshit.

Anyway, I got a photo of trains. Just one. And it kinda sucked.

That’s it for train photos.

Next Up: The AWESOME

This is an aside from The Big Trip series of posts. It has generated so much excitement over the last few days, that it must be written about.

19 August 2008

I go to lunch room to purchase a Caramello Koala. These are the big arse fund raising size, not those shitty regular size ones. I notice there are significaly fewer than there were in the morning. This displeases me.

I have a great idea, instead of being fucked over with having to gamble with a fixed supply and great competition, how about I just remove the supply issue. I buy 2 and store them in my desk drawer.

I figure there can’t be more than 15 of them there, so that night I pack $15 in my wallet.

I decide to call this the “Strategic Junk Food Reserve”, it is modelled off the “Strategic Petroleum Reserve”, only a lot more fun and a lot less critical to national security.

20 August 2008

I wait for a quiet period and waltz into the lunch room. I buy all 11 remaining Caramellos.

1 hour later my colleague announces her intention to purchase a Caramello, I stop her and open my drawer, her face wide. I sell one to her at cost…

My other colleague across the room (kindly thanked for the impending photo) is alerted to this fact. Later on in the day, she too buys one at cost.

21 August 2008

I buy some discounted Milo bars from the store across the road. $1 a piece. I discuss the idea of

1. Undercutting the fund raising woman
2. Buying in bulk and selling for profit

I decide to go to the bulk food wholesaler I have access to, thanks to being a filthy unionist.

I also sell one, eat one and get an IOU for one.

22 August 2008

It all comes together.

I’ve already sold a bunch for cash and I’ll take IOUs, which people email to me, or leave stuck to my desk/drawer/somewhere.

Strategic Junk Food Reserve

Cheaper than a vending machine, better service than a shop!

$2 for king size Kit Kats and Mars bars, can’t beat that price. I also have those big snakes (not pictured) $0.50/ea. Everything else is $1.

I know the monitor is propped up by a ream of paper, and that I only have 2 pens and a highlighter. The thing my keyboard sits on I keep ripping off the desk. I hate my phone, it beeps too loudly.

So, in my trip to Melbourne, I took a bit of a day trip. Originally this was going to be Geelong to see the National Wool Museum. I then realised I didn’t want to see either. I did however want to see Canberra. See, Canberra is like the holy land for public servants. There are forms, bureaucrats, red tape, and legislation. Being a public servant, I have to pay my respects. I booked my ticket on work time after a 20 minute discussion about the idea with my colleague. We also bitched about our pay.

Also, my friend Craig lives there. I had never met Craig and this seemed like a good reason to go.

So, I took a day trip the Canberra. I got up at sparrow and took the bus to the airport, where I duly sat around to leave. I sat next to Ned Kelly! Well, he was a Ned Kelly. The conversation went like this

Me: “Whoa, your name is Ned Kelly?”
Ned: “Yeah”
Me: “Are you any rel…”
Ned: “No”
Me: “Do you get that of…”
Ned: “Yes”

Ned then went to sleep. Ned was a man of few words.

Arriving in Canberra the first thing I noticed was that it was cold. Really cold. I mean cold. Like break the dog off the tree in the morning cold. I also felt it was pretty poor that you cannot reach the national capital from outside the country.

Craig picked me up from the airport in his car which has an angled dash for a fighter pilot or something. It was insane. It was explained to me that the people inventing Canberra didn’t quite understand the concept of the word “central”. Where other cities have one central business district, Canberra has 4. Take that you fuckers!

We went for the tour of the Australian War Memorial. I recommend the tour to anyone. We had this geezer doing the tour, and he knew all sorts of stuff. Very interesting.

They also have a tank. If I had a tank, it would solve so many of my problems. Like that arsehole at the bus station who complains relentlessly (and if I am bitching about him, then you know he complains like a champ) about the 504 bus. I’d crush his bus, just to piss him off.

And, Horrie the Wog Dog’s uniform. As far as dogs go, he is better than Dexter.

What is expensive, and white? If you guessed white elephants, you’d be right! But also wrong. The answer is Parliament house! The tour is apparently pretty shit, so we settled for driving around it and being watched by over zealous cops. On bikes. Bike shorts look so amazingly lame. Parliament always seems to be just there, but it never is, it is always a bit further on.

Along some road which was windy and the name of which I forgot, the idea of visiting Captain Extreme was floated. A name like that is uttered, and interest piques. A name like that is uttered, and one must know the details.

Captain Extreme introduced me to Turkish Apple Tea and told me all about Trent. At which point, Chris joined us and we laughed at the emofags hanging around on some metal pillow and the flustered woman running the restaurant we were sitting at.

At the place with the Turkish Apple Tea, we saw a guy wearing a pink flanno. Pink and flanno. Even I felt like the guy was a douche, and I wear a hat with fucking earflaps.

We kicked back and watched Grandma’s Boy, which is both funny and hilarious. We didn’t quite get round to Fyshwick for the Canberra memento porn, but you can’t win them all. Plus, I hear there is porn on computers now.

I then flew home on a most empty plane, in which I stole several of those ghetto Virgin Blue earphones. I was proud. Also, the flight attendant asked me to sit upright. I did, then slumped back down. Yeah, I showed her who can be more passive aggressive!

I got back to Melbourne at which point I went to Lygon St. and ate artery hardening pasta, which was worth it.

Next Up: Trouble

No need to make separate points, I really only bought one thing of note (and I only bought two things overall anyway).

It is daggy, yet practical.

It is practical, yet ridiculous

It gives off a great “there is something strange about *that* guy” impression.

It is warm.

It is the greatest piece of clothing ever devised.

It is a hat with earflaps.

This also signifies the completion of yet another mediocre goal.

Next Up: Canberra

Melbourne, I should re-iterate was awesomely fantastic. However, there were several things that an ignorant Perthite with arse hanging out of his daks just could not figure out.

1) Turning left and Pedestrians

When cars can turn left, there is a good chance of pedestrians there. I was both startled and amazed. Amazed that I didn’t get run over. See in Perth, we have a saying on the roads when it comes to pedestrians. It varies from region to region, but generally comes down to

Get the fuck out of the way!!!

The number of exclamation points is really up to the person saying it.

2) 7-11’s in the CBD

They are everywhere. In Elizabeth St. there are two opposite each other. I cannot fathom this level of convenience.

It was very convenient.

3) The number of cabs

In Perth, finding a cab is like finding a $20 note. It happens, and you are fucking pumped when it does, but it’s pretty rare.

I had cabs everywhere, except the one time I really could have used one. This struck me as peculiar.

Having a point that is both positive and negative about the same topic is peculiar, I know.

Next up: Shopping.

Last weekend, I went on a trip. I went to Melbourne. It was great. I think I’ll move there. There are a lot of things to cover, the first of which are the douches.

Douche 1: Plane from Melbourne - Perth, Buck Toothed Douchebag (BTD)

My very descriptive description outlines this person, who sat in front of me on the plane. I have no major problems with buck toothedness, but combined with the guy’s overall demeanour of douche and that he talked like Trent, he was a douche. The steward guy also thought he was a bit of douche when he hopped the seat to sit in the fancy “premium economy” section.

Oh yeah, he also read a Penthouse on the plane. At least, I hope he read it and did not “read” it.

What a douche.

Douche 2: Train from Sandringham to Flinders St. DJ Douchemaster (DJD)

This guy got on at Sandringham station, and cracked out the tunes on his mobile. It was a mix of wailing and doof. It fucking sucked balls. Anyway, DJ Douchemaster just wouldn’t give it up, he also kept checking himself out in the window of the train. When girls got on the train, he would turn on the douchesleaze and they would giggle and walk away. I had more girls sit near me and chat to me on the train than DJ Douchemaster. Which made me pleased. Perhaps his radius was stronger than mine. In which case, I shall rethink DJD’s status of douche and bring him over.

But until that time…

What a douche.

Douche 3: Southern Cross Station. High and Mighty Douchette (H&MD)

I bought a 5xdaily ticket for my travels around Melbourne. It was valid for both zones, so quite a decent ticket. Anyway, I was there for only 4 days, hence an extra day on the ticket. Since I (believe it or not) am quite a giving person, I figured I should give it to some Melbournite who could use it. When approaching H&MD, I smiled, attempted to explain the story (ie, having an extra daily on the ticket), she tells me she doesn’t want my pity. Great, because I didn’t actually have any for sale that day.

What a douche.

Next up: Peculiarities.

I just realised that I didn’t get round to posting last week. I think that should really say enough about what happened, radius wise.

This week however is short, sweet, and highly satisfying. Very much unlike a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

I was waiting for my train home, one day this week when a favourite fellow commuter of mine walked down the stairs to the platform. Nice!

I was in a fairly buoyant mood this particular afternoon, so I was trying to get her attention. And I did.

I like that moment of recognition, that moment when someone goes from thinking they know someone to the penny dropping and realising. Most people like it when it is someone they like. But, when it is someone they hate, the reaction is fantastic. The eyes go wide, the mouth tenses up and the body stiffens. Then the stinkeye sets in and you can feel the wave of hate hit you like a tidal wave.

I was proud, and as I once heard a sports commentator say: “jubilating”.

I am guessing on the verbal response, seeing as though I didn’t speak to her. With my “trustworthy and calming tone” as one of my callers described me as having, I figured I could get a 3. Also, one might wonder about the attire. After all, I generally go for the ghetto-chic style. Well, I make an effort for work. Holy crap.

Response
Verbal: 3
Physical: 1
Ease: 1

What is the radius? What do these numbers mean?

Every now and then, you get a bit of a win. Other times you get a fucking awesome smackdown.

In this particular case, I refer to the P Train, that mysterious beast. So elusive, so compelling and yet at the same time, so…ordinary.

This was a matter that only Philbert Artemis Farquharson could get involved with.

And, he got a reply.

Last week, apart from getting some just desserts from a bus driver, I did something out of the ordinary, with a rather ordinary response.

At my crappy bus stop, a crowd of people crowds in a crowd like fashion, muttering pleasantries and looking in any direction other than at each other - and talking.

I don’t usually take this bus, as it gets me there too late. However, I took it because of the training program I was told to attend.

Anyway, at this crappy bus stop, there was a Japanese girl there each day. She was a student at the international school for English (or to that effect).

Anyway, for various, rather unexciting reasons, I decided to ask her out. Mainly because I wouldn’t be catching that bus any more - hence no awkward encounters - ever.

So, I asked.

And was politely declined. I could get used to politeness. Despite being very flattered, she had a chap back in Japan. The bus came and drove the miserable drones to the train station.

The rating exposes an underlying assumption: that a rejection is automatically a poor response. It was all very dignified and friendly. Very strange - and confronting.

Response
Verbal: 5
Physical: 5
Ease: 5

What is the radius? What do these numbers mean?

This week I talk about the bus ride from Perth to East Perth. There are so many bus routes that go that way, that there is a common stand. Any route going to East Perth - goes from this one stand. Quite helpful. I go there and wait a little while, when a bus shows up.

Me: “Hi, do you go down the Terrace?”
Fuckhead Driver (FD): “I go along a terrace”
Me: “Ok, so do you go along the Terrace?”
FD: “I go along several terraces”
Me: “Great, do you go to Adelaide?”
FD: “No”
Me: “Oh, I’ll wait for the next one then”
FD: “No buses here go to Adelaide mate”
Me: “Pardon? I caught one yesterday that went to Adelaide”
FD: “Oh, I thought you meant buses that went to Adelaide…the city”
Me: “I see your fuckwititis is playing up today, I’ll take the next one”.

We then proceeded to stare at each other for the next 2 minutes before he left. I have an excuse for being so dense as well, I am sick. During the night I took 3 times the dosage for the completely ineffective cough syrup and then had 2 painkillers. The drowsiness kicked in before I made it out of the kitchen and I fell over and bumped my head on the wall. So yeah, a bit out of it.

If I was a little more coherent today, I would have argued the basis for going “along” that it is an East(ish)-West(ish) running street. If the map is viewed with North at the top of the page, it makes sense. But if West is at the top, running “down” the street makes perfect sense.