The Australian Male’s Holy Trinity – Punt, Piss & Perve.

Friday, 13 December 1996

S,

I spent this morning at the dentist.  Geez, terror really takes it out of you, eh?  I’m exhausted I really am, I could drop off to sleep right on my desk here.  Well, I could have twenty minutes ago before my coffee.  I shared a brew (lerrrve that coffee lingo) with Crystal. She does a Marketing Newsletter.  I never even knew she liked the ‘real stuff’.  I had poured my mug and was leaning against this table thingy, in everybody’s way as usual, when Crystal eyed off the remnants and asked if she could have it.  I slowly nodded a noble assent and Crystal helped herself to half a cup of dregs.  I promised her a real one in the fullness of time.  After she’s done me a few nice turns. Like, say, some laundry or something.

I think I’ll be heading straight home tonight (it’s Friday).  This tooth – it could be a ‘gold mine’ of excuses for the next fortnight.  Not that it being a Friday means much vis-a-vis work drinks.  It’s on every night of the week these days.  Little tribes, trundling over to the News Bar, or further afield for all-nighters at the Cricketers Arms in Richmond.  Jeremy, Simon and Adam seem to be planning a big night tonight.  Over to the TAB for ‘a punt’ and then onto JD’s (a yuppies pub/club in the city) for extended perving.  It’s Simon’s holy trinity – Punt, Piss and Perve.  If one is truly blessed and observant in the rituals and sacrifices (brain cells), one can aspire to the elusive fourth P – The Pork.

You’d be proud of me Sis, I organized the office Kris Kringle this year.  This was to ensure I could pick myself outta the barrel and get myself a super present worth, say, $50.  Then, when it’s pulled outta the sack and passed to a disingenuous J, all smiles and rolling eyes, everyone oohs and aahs as something expensive emerges from the wrapping.  Whispers across the room – “Hmm.  Someone must like J quite a bit to fork out for that.”  ‘Does anyone know who got J in the draw?”  “It’s a complete mystery!” “I wish I was J.”  “Me too.”  “Me three!”  Sigh.  it’s all coming my  way, S, all of it.  Life is ready to drop its rich bounty into my lap.

 

Monday, 16 December 1996

Gossip Update:  It looks like Mia (my ex) and her man (damned if I can remember his name, and I can’t ask coz it makes me look jealous) might be on the rocks.  Can’t give you my source, (because I can’t remember who it is myself)  but I’m sure they’re reliable.  Something about him not calling her often enough.  I do hope it’s not true, I am the benevolent-Buddha today, and the do-nothing Buddha tomorrow, and the vengeful-Buddha the day after.  (When I’m vengeful-Buddha I put on tights and body-slam my enemies like a Rock ‘n Roll Wrestler.  It’s a sight to see.)

 

Tuesday, 17 December 1996

Worked ’til 8:30 last night (“Nail my other hand up for me will you dear?  It’s always a bugger to get the last nail in.”)  Bought Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep at a second hand bookstore opposite the Elizabeth Street tram terminus to fill in the twenty minute wait.  It’s great.  I love it, I dunno why I bought it, I’ve never been into detective books before, but it’s got some really good lines in it, like “Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.”  How can you go past that?  It’s a hoot!  I couldn’t sleep last night so I read about half of it.  Ironic, no?  He buys a book call The Big Sleep and then lays awake all night reading it.  I might even buy one or two of his others.  He’s a bit heavy handed with the similes (I counted five on one page).  The trouble is, every now and then I slip into this Humphrey Bogart voice as I’m reading, which slows you down.  Atmospheric but. (Atmospheric Butt – that’s a good name for something – a band, poem, holiday by the sea.)

I hope it doesn’t get on your nerves the way I prattle on about books, it’s all I’m doing at the moment.

J

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