“… and then the dog chewed on it.”

VOL. 7, NO. 2

“…and then the dog chewed on it.”

Thursday, Sep. 4, 1997  8:40am

Dear S,

The office smells like the interior of a plane today for some reason.  Exactly like a plane.  That funny air-conditioned, slightly-sickly-disinfectant-delousing-spray smell.  Wish I had a first class aeroplane seat for a work chair.  If this office was an aeroplane it would definitely be in a disaster film. Daisy and Kylie (downstairs smiley people) would be the singing nuns, and Neda would be the day-saving air-steward.   Cain would be a hi-jacker demanding the freeing of his Anarchist Syndicate friends “or this silver bird takes a dip in the Atlantic!” and Bett would be the undercover FBI agent who gets shot.  I would be the pregnant woman, lying sweaty-browed on my back in the aisle screaming “My baby! My baby!” and clutching my parturient belly with sinewy hands.  Lucy would be the drunk pilot with the Vietnam flashbacks.  Now there’s a good idea for a theatre restaurant – “Flashbax”.  It could be staffed by people with repressed memory syndrome, and each table could have the password which sets them off into a bleating foetal position frenzy. Laffs a-plenty, a-hargh!  (That was meant to be a pirate’s laugh.)

same day, 3:50pm

The office smells like rain now.  I got up and opened up the blinds to let the gloom in.  Slate skies…

Coffee-Girl Chat at Le Croissant Connection.

“It’s pink and lacy. I got it for my boyfriend.  Go have a look.  It’s in my bag inside a plastic bag inside a paper bag. Go on pull it out and have a look.  Cost me $120.”

“Mine cost me $180 and then the dog chewed on it.  Didn’t work anyway.”

“Well mine’s gonna work.  He’s gonna love it,” she says with determination, scraping off excess froth snailcrawling down the side of the stainless steel jug.

Feel like listening to Summer music.  I need to buy some Summer CDs.  I’ve been listening to My Bloody Valentine and feeling nostalgic. Cain tells me it’s a break-up CD for him.  A girl left him to travel overseas and he earmarked the period with that CD, Loveless.  Apt.  He saw them live, too.  Said they were great.

Friday, Sep. 5, 1997  12:00pm

Got a big meeting today, over lunch.

  • The Cast:   Bett, Caitlin, Noah, Ross and me
  • The Setting:   The Boardroom, ground floor.
  • The Topic:   Progress and Planning
  • My Expectations:   Modest

We’re being fattened for the slaughter on bagels and fruit juice.  Lucy was supposed to be here as well, but she’s not in today.  I’ve been racking my brain all morning for something to say at this meeting.  It’s always important to have something to say, some contribution. Also important are;

  • Pens – for earnest note-taking and forthright pointing
  • A Head – for nodding
  • Lips – for “hmm”-ing
  • Eyebrows – for cocking at interesting and innovative suggestions from co-workers
  • and finally a Tongue – for biting

same day, 2:15pm

Had the meeting. Same ol’, same ‘ol.  Nice kiwi fruit in the platter though.

Gonna go see some films this weekend.  Larry The Temporary Housemate is in Canberra getting his UK work visa, and I’ve got heaps of work to do over the weekend, so I’m gonna break it up with a movie or two.  Slingblade, and maybe Swingers.  There’s a new Mike Leigh film out too, Career Girls.  I’ve been neglecting my cinematic education.  I’ve been neglecting my education in general.  I’ve got some reading to do too.  Too much TV watching, too much sleeping in. O fuck it.  I think I’ll just stay in bed for the whole weekend.  Maybe eat Cheezels and watch Di’s funeral on TV. It’s on every channel here, no ads.  Who the hell would want to advertise in the middle of a funeral?  Well, maybe funeral directors, but that might seem opportunistic.  Hmm. Should I watch the funeral or not?  Did you know that an Italian magazine is planning to run the photos of Di’s death throes? I reckon the publisher will be murdered.  There have been death threats at some of the Fleet Street papers apparently.  Not much point killing some poor editor who’s probably only six months from a hypertensive grave anyway.  Should go for the scum which always seems to rise to the top – magnates.  That’s who you want to knock off. Obviously.

Saturday, Sep. 6, 1997  1:45pm

And here I am, good as my word, and that word is “giblets”! (Don’t try to make sense of that.) Listening to my Summer Music.  Just bought two CDs from JB Hi-Fi . Ivy and the Big Apples by Spiderbait and Spiders by Space. It’s an arachnid theme.

It’s a sunny Spring day, beautifully clear out the window but the air is foul with pollution if you go out in it.  Walked to work tasting it all the way down Flemington Road.  Sitting at my desk now, eating Lindt chocolate.  I’ve decided to make chocolate my one vice.  Didn’t even go drinking last night.  Trammed straight home and read What Wild Ecstasy – The Rise and Fall of the Sexual Revolution.  I’m getting to the 70’s now and it’s pretty saucy.  Larry loaned it to me.

same day 6:00pm

Got a party I could go to tonight if I felt like it. It’s Aaron’s 30th.  He’s Nadia’s ex-boyfriend.  I briefly held some greasy designs for winning the favour of Nadia about a century ago.  And I wouldn’t know anyone at the party anyway. And it’s Di’s funeral tonight.  Not that I’m doing anything for that, either.  I fleetingly toyed with the idea of a phoney wake, but it all just seemed in poor taste.

Should I go see a movie?  Can I cope with the embarrassment of seeing a movie on my own on a Saturday night?  No, I can’t.  I’m not that far gone yet.  The day I can cope with that is the day I start wearing the clothes Mum still buys for me.  It’s OK to be a loser, as long as you know it.  When you stop knowing what’s uncool you’re in real trouble, regardless of whether you live up to the ideal or not.  On the other hand, it’s OK to flout some of the cool conventions if you’ve got pots of money.  Money can buy style.  They just say it can’t to stop the hipsters fomenting a well-dressed revolution.

Well, I’m gonna mail this.



PS I can’t believe it!  Mum just told me that you are catching a train into London to go to Di’s funeral. Oh the envy. You must tell me all about. I mean it.

One thought on ““… and then the dog chewed on it.”

  1. I’m sorry if you take offense to this, but I honestly found much humor and laughs throughout this post, beginning with Wish I had a first class aeroplane seat for a work chair.

    Absolutely brilliant and full of wit! Perhaps one of my all-time favorite posts from this blog so far.

    Liked by 1 person

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