Moving: On and On and On and...

You get the idea...

This just doesn't end.  And now I'm out of money for the remainder.

The series of disasters that have plagued this move is endless. 

It begins with the bank having need of our house, this is due to a rather prolonged period of unemployment.  Then my car's emergency brake failed, and rolled from a centre park, across one lane of traffic and into a post, bashing the front end of it.  Not enough to kill it, but it did cost time and money to have it repaired.

Two of my dogs have come down with paralysis ticks.  These ticks poison pets, and taking them to the vets costs hundreds of dollars per incident.

My favourite cat has vanished. he's been weeks gone now.  I suspect he's dead from a tick.  Another has been missing for several days.  I fear she's gone too.

In returning fro the new house (In a trip fraught with trailer delays), the car my wife was in breaks down in a small town hundreds of ks from anywhere.  It cost time and money, as she had to stay overnight in this small town.

Items have been broken, and things have gone to shit.

The latest is borrowing a ute (pickup for my American friends) and borrowing a trailer,  in an attempt to move the stuff myself, and proceeding to damage both in a tragic jackknifing incident that happened when I tried to reverse the ute with the trailer still attached.

The whole thing is fucked.

I figure I'm about 20% moved.  I can't hire a truck, and I can't seem to get out of this place.  It may well be the last thing I ever do.  I have to go.  I don't have a choice.  And I've got a job, but its hours away from here.

It's like I'm battling an evil spirit or something.  Seriously, the place has got its teeth in me, and I'm not being permitted to leave.  And every time I try, I bleed a little more.

The stress of it is taking its toll.  Its effecting my decision making abilities.  I'm tired all the time.  I'm having trouble focusing, yet I know, the longer this goes on, the less likely I'll be financially, physically and emotionally capable of actually moving.  Any moments of merriment are snatched away almost before I can laugh reflexively.

Moving sucks chocolate salty balls at best.  And this move is the worst I've ever experienced, not only had it cost me time, its also cost me every cent I've got and its cost emotionally.

I can tell you I don't want to go on.  But I must.  As the Aussie band "The Angels" have said, "I've got to get out of this place, if its the last thing I ever do.."

Making it stop, I guess that's up to me.

Fuck me dead.

It's Been a Long Time

I don't know if any of you still follow this blog, or even give rat's ass about anything I have to say.  But I have had a disturbingly lot going on in the 7 months, including but not limited to, the loss of my crappy job, the loss of my house, severe depression, anger, fear and sadness. 

Blogging does help me deal with depression, and while thought about it a dozen times, I couldn't bring myself to write about it.  Indeed, thoughts of self destruction took precedence.  I had it planned, even managed to get rid of the wife for a few days to do it.  My plan was simple.  A sharp knife across the throat would have take care of it.

So.  Why didn't I do it?

I was watching tv, my inability to cope with my life had me try to find escape wherever I could.  I descended into the tv and video games.  Much to my wife's disgust.  Anyways, while I was watching, I saw a commercial for mantherapy.org.au  and I learnt a few things.  I'm in the second most at risk age group in Australia.  My circumstances are the common reasons within that demographic.

I spoke to people by phone, and got my shit straightened out, more or less, because I'm still here.

Still breathing; and yeah, still smoking. It helps me cope.

So I'm up late tonight, smoking too much and watching Die Welle (The Wave).  The Wave is based,  loosely, on a genuine experiment by a high school teacher about fascism.  He used his class as a test group.  This German film is scarier, and more disturbing than the original which ran as an after school special on tv when I was a kid.  Its worth watching.

So, what's upcoming in Torggil's World?

I'm starting a new job in a few weeks.  Followers of this blog will know I've done it before.  I'm going back to taxi driving.  This time in Townsville.

More than just the town the Powerpuff team rescues on that show, It's actually a real city, in tropical north Queensland.  So I may change the name of the Blog to Torggil's Nights, or something. I'm going to try to do something on it every week. 

When the Eddard game starts back up, I hope to post more adventures as well. 

Also, the Australian Federal Election is coming up.  I know I have a take or two on that.

So hang ten everyone.  As soon as this move is over, I'll be back.  Regularly, I hope.

Something to think about...

We Are People

 

We are people.

 

We are not gay, straight, or bi.  We are all these things, and so much more.

 

We are people.  We are not black, white, Asian, or aboriginal.  We are all of these things, and so much more.

 

We are people.  We are not Jews, christian, Muslim, Shinto, Buddhist, atheist, or any other religion.  We are all of these things, and so much more.

 

We are not rich or poor.  We are not pretty or ugly.  We are not old or young.  We are not male nor female.  We are all of these things, and much, much more.

 

Why we insist on narrow viewpoints, limiting perspectives, and closing our minds to new ideas is beyond me.

 

We are people.  We need to be equal in standing, in rights, and in potential.  Should we ever achieve this, humanity will leap forward.

 

We are weaker when any of us is thought of as just gay.  Or just Muslim.  Or just black.  We all fail in our potential.  That is our weakness.  That is our critical flaw.  It is why we fight, why we weaken ourselves, and why we deny recognition of others, and therefore, through that precedent, ourselves.

 

Our strength as homo sapiens lies in our diversity.  Our willingness to adapt to new ideas, share new philosophies, and use them to change our perspective.  We grow, we develop, and we improve as we change, progressing ever forward and these ideas and philosophies are applied.

 

We are all people, as different as we are from one another.  But because we are people, we are also the same.

 

Copyright 2013 this blog.

How the Klutz Killed Christmas

Or.. Slaughtering the Spirit of the Season
Or.. What Not to do at Christmas

There's a lesson here I'm sure.  Too bad I'm an idiot.

You see. it started yesterday, with an accident.  I wasn't the one who caused it, but I made the situation worse.

We were using a somewhat iffy table to have our Christmas tree in the window shining out over the driveway.  Near the table was a fridge and freezer.  In searching for the Christmas ham in the freezer, my wife bumped the table and the leg gave way.  This smashed a couple of porcelain cookie jars, but it didn't collapse the table.

I decided to help.  I noticed the power cords for the tree slung over the curtain rod.  I thought this was a bad thing, so I went to grab the tree.  I lifted it off the half collapsed table, not realising there were gifts under it.  These were more porcelain cookie jars to complete the collection and were for my wife.  Naturally, the tree was only thing holding them up, removing the tree meant they too smashed to the floor.

Well, it went to shit from there.

To make matters worse, on an extremely limited budget, I bought her a gift that I thought she would both appreciate and use, completely forgetting that we had already obtained one several months back.  I had forgot because I rarely ever see it.

She did extremely well.  Gave me a gift that I will always treasure, and one I am proud to call mine.  If I ever get another desk job, its going to occupy a prominent place on my desk.

I singlehandedly destroyed the Christmas spirit at my house, as completely as if I'd shot it repeatedly with a tommy gun.

Sometimes I wonder why my wife still stays with me, and I'll wager she's wondering why too if the silence tonight is any indication.

She's been with me ten years.  Christmas and I have never really gotten along, and I have never learnt from my Christmas mistakes.  I suck at it.  I always have; its my worst holiday.  I'm much better at national holidays, where independence or nationhood is celebrated.  Or Halloween.  Or Thanksgiving- though I moved to a country that doesn't celebrate it.  If I have a bit of cash, I'm even good at Valentines day.

But Christmas?

Bah, Humbug.

Christmas Music Overkill

It's that time of year again, by now your ears will be overwhelmed by the continual assault of this "music" all month long.

And must we start slipping Christmas music into the shops and malls as early as November?  Is the 31 days of December not enough? I mean hell, that's 744 hours with which they can numb the mind, make us forget the meaning of Christmas, and turn us into shopping automatons.

Look, I'm not trying to be a complete scrooge, but honestly people, there's 31 days and there are not that many Christmas Carols.   How many times must one endure the tired strains of Deck the Halls, Jingle Bells, or Silent Night?  This last in particular sung by anyone who reckons they can sing, including TV stars.

Thus far this year, I have been fortunate to avoid much of this mind numbing, desensitising assault by virtue of my job.  Working outdoors hath its benefits, though not many, for my face looks like someone mistook it for lobster, but perhaps its a small price to pay.

I can point out, happily that all is not lost.  There are a handful of people that have produced excellent Christmas albums, and or songs.

Chris de Burgh wrote a song postulating that perhaps the star of Bethlehem was actually a UFO and it was an alien that marked his birth.  I reckon that's believable.

Mr. Hanky's Christmas Album is worth a listen.  There are a couple songs that do make me laugh.  Laughing is good at Christmas.  Take "Christmas Time in Hell", or the message from "Dead, Dead, Dead" or the slightly goofy "Carol of the Bells"... There are other songs on that album that make me laugh, but somehow they are not quite as Christmassy....

Twisted Sister made a Christmas album I genuinely like.  Heavy metal music and Christmas go together surprisingly well.

And, last but not least, I must mention Sarah McLachan's Wintersong.  A beautiful collection of songs, some favourites, some written specifically for the album.  Including a song about death.

An open letter to Automobile manufacturers in the Australian market:

Dear stockholders, directors, owners, and designers (you know who you are),

What did you do?  What happened?

Australian cars used to be cool.  Used to be.  the monaro, the valiant, the XB coupe.

Today's list is all about front wheel drive hatches, with the odd front wheel drive sedan thrown in.  Or about big fuel drinking four door sixes that are too heavy, too thirsty, and too expensive to appeal to the average fun seeking driver.

Hatches.  Hate em.  The bubble back to me is ugly, and four doors?  Why the Hell would I want four doors?  I do not encourage passengers.  They only distract me from driving.  Or complain.  I don't want to hear it.  If I had four doors, I'd have to have a 1000w stereo system so I couldn't hear em go on and on about shit I don't to hear.  And certainly there is no new car being made with a stereo that will do this for a reasonable price.

So basic design is going down the toilet.

What about the necessary?  Car pundits are claiming the manual transmission is on its way out.  What?  Sports autos are autos.  It took me years before I learnt the stick.  I can only say now that I wish I had done it years ago.  The control.  The thrill.  The working of gears.  Twenty years of driving autos was 20 years denying myself the true driving experience.  I will admit I was idiot.  I wasted 20 years of my life driving automatics when I could have been having fun.  Ignorance breeds stupidity.  I hope you all know how to drive manuals.  If you don't, learn.  And flappy paddles on the wheel don't precisely replace the stick.  Even the Top Gear guys have said that.

The rear wheel drives are dying off.  What?  You want to make cheap cars, but you kill the rear wheel drive.  Chrysler went back to the rear wheel drive for one simple fact.  Its cheaper to make.  Additionally, much of Australia doesn't suffer from ice and snow, conditions which can, admittedly, challenge a rear drive wheel train.

Where are the coupes?  All over Japan, North America, you can get a coupe.  In Australia?  They are there, but they're rare.  And the bulk of them are crap.  Also, "coupe styled hatches" (Barina Spark, Civic, Veloster)  are NOT coupes.  They are hatches.  Stop wasting money on advertising that claims otherwise.  That money could be better spent bringing real coupes into the market.  I might be calling a spade a spade, but how stupid do you really think we are?  A coupe has a proper boot.  A coupe is impractical, but that's sort of the point.  Impractical sells.  Look at the Mazda MX5.

Okay, so maybe I'm insane.  Maybe the Australian market doesn't like coupes.  Or maybe you've biased the marketing.  Maybe its just been cheaper for you not bother with the coupes in the Australian market.

Kudos to Subaru and Toyota for developing the BRZ/86.  But the price, over 30k?

Would it be so expensive to send some Altima or Accord Coupes down here?  They are as common as blades of grass in other markets.  But they aren't sold here.

You guys can save us. Please.  It can be done.  Lest Australia be cursed forevermore with the eyesore that is the hatchback.  It doesn't have to be difficult, unless you make it so.

I know that my next car will likely be used, because a good coupe I can afford isn't available in Australia new, and the truth is, I don't  expect it to change.  By the way, I'm 42, and my perferred body style remains the coupe, it's been that since I was 14.  It'll be that way until I'm dead.

Yours,

Torggil





 

A Driving History 14: The 89 Honda Prelude

That's my car.  All the right lines in all the right places.  Add a sports exhaust and sub for a doof and that's my car.

She generates 100kw (144hp) from a 2.0 litre fourpot, 0-100kph (0-60mph) in about 9 secs on a 5 speed manual.  The car is surprising comfortable for me to drive, now that I'm used to the stick, I don't like driving automatics anymore.  There was a time in my life when I believed I could achieve as much or more control of a car in an automatic.  I know now this to be complete and utter bullshit. Just quietly, manufacturers, don't ditch the stick.  Somehow it makes driving real.  She has 381000 kms on the clock, and still runs strong.  Given her 23 years of age, the coupe has a few small problems- but nothing that has thus far interfered with its drivability- except for a fuel pump that shit itself and died.

There are 2 very particular things about this car.  Back in 87, when the gen 3 prelude was introduced to the market, it accomplished something amazing.  In the slalom, it defeated all comers, including supercars.

It also something that no other car has: fully mechanical 4 wheel steering.  Other front wheel drives have 4 wheel steering, but only this generation prelude has fully mechanical 4 wheel steering.

Recently, this car made the top 25 Japanese collectible cars list.

Why do I say that?  So I can claim I drive a collectible car.  As war marked as she surely is.

So when I roar up in town, I do feel a little like Peter Falk's Columbo- The car is a beat up, and I'm in fashionably rumpled pants (too damn hot for a rumpled raincoat).

I love this car, in case that's somehow not clear.

Even for a car of this age, it handles beautifully.  I take this regularly on the Gillies highway.  This pass in 20km long and loaded with hairpins, blind corners and other challenges.  There's also three distinct passing sections.

Put this car on the downhill and its truly superb.  The uphill, however, does demonstrate its lack of power.

I bought this car down Brisbane way.  I flew down with The Wife, got picked up at the airport by the sellers mom, driven to the car, test drove it (took The Wife's word for it being a good car) and promptly bought it on the spot.  Drove it all the way back.  The Wife had to do most of the driving though.  I wasn't confident or even competent with a stick.

But we enjoyed the car.  And the Drive.  After the fire, I had moved into a rental in town and parked it on the street.. Some cocksucker came along and kicked the rear fender of my car by the gas tank access,  put a big ass dent in it, cracked the paint, the whole nine yards.

I called the cops, made them come out and attend the scene.  They basically told me there was nothing they could do.  Whatever.

If I should ever learn who, I'll willingly put one more dent in my car.  I have yet, after all, to get the body work done.  Today, she needs some significant exterior cosmetic work done.  There's also niggling electric issues for the accessories.

But I turn the key.  She starts up.  And she's fun as hell to drive.  This is my favourite car on my list to date.

But I do recognise that I will have to replace it.  When the lawsuit settles, I'm giving myself up to $15000 to buy.  Even though this is years away, I'm already looking.

You know my driving history.  What do you think I might buy?  Should someone actually pick the one of three cars I'm seriously considering, I'll send you keys to my car.  I'll get it cut and mail it to you.  Just to be clear.  You don't win the car.  You win a key.  To guess, leave a comment.

Proofs of my Personal Creedo

I had 2 very critical, and very cynical maxims when I was driving cab so many years ago.  Today, in spades, the first was proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I believe, as cynical as they are, my actions as a result of this statement may have saved my life at least once, possibly twice in the cab.

My first, and most critical maxim was "people are stupid."  This is a broad generalisation.  Please don't it personally, and bear in mind, it doesn't apply to absolutely everybody, or necessarily, yourself.

I work as a traffic controller for areas where roads are under construction.  Today, it was highway work.  Now, we had one lane blocked off for construction vehicle access, and to provide a buffer for the public, so that they are not put at risk by things like reversing equipment into traffic.  And for the workers, to minimise their risk of exposure to people who race through the zone.

Sounds good right?

I was physically standing, blocking traffic in the eastbound traffic lane.  Further ahead of me, visible in the zone was a concrete truck, a traffic control ute, and workmen working.  Blocking that same lane.

As it was my turn to send traffic through the zone, I turned my bat to slow, and directed traffic into the westbound, without moving, thereby forcing traffic into the directed lane.

Initially it was all good.  I released the vehicles and they swung into the directed lane, and I thought, no worries.  They'll be right.

Wrong!

Without exception, every single car, there was around ten, went back into the eastbound lane despite the obvious obstruction further up the road.  The senior traffic controller had to redirect them back into the westbound lane to get around the vehicles.

Once again proving...

People are stupid.

Further evidence of this all too common phenomena will be presented as it is made apparent.

Maxim Number 2:  People are assholes.

I have yet to experience this phenomena directly on the worksite, but when I do, rest assured, You'll know!

I won! I won!

Kate Omara has nominated me for:



Award!

Kate,  Thank you.  Check out her awesome blog at http://whenkateblogs.blogspot.com.au.  you won't be disappointed.

So, what is the award for?  Up and coming bloggers as:

Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing and welcome.”

I'm not sure I fit the bill, but I am honoured absolutely to receive it,  As with all awards, there is a requirement:  I have to answer some questions.  So, here goes:

1. Who is your favorite author?

George RR Martin.  Has to be, followed closely by Robert E Howard.  I haven't lost my love for his writing in thirty years.

2. What is your favorite book?

Storm of Swords, George RR Martin.  Book three of A song of Ice and Fire.

3. Do you give books as gifts? If so, how do you decide which book to give?

Usually they have to tell me they want it.

4. Who is your favorite up and coming author?

Hard to say, I haven't read a new book by a new author in quite a while.  All the up and comers are now established, and no longer qualify.

5. What music do you love?

Sarah Mclachlan.  Enigma, Basil Polidouris, Delerium, Big Wreck, Rush, Blues...  I guess the music has to be good.

6. What art do you love?

The written word, and landscapes.  I can lose myself in a decent landscape.

7. Coffee or Tea?

Does Pepsi Max count?

8. Vanilla or Chocolate?

Chocolate

9. Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn?

I live in the tropics now.  All I know is summer...

10. Beginning or End?

The end is often just a beginning.

11. Why do you blog?

Possibly to justify my own stupidity, but more likely to sort my shit out, and discuss things I love.

I would like to nominate 11 other blogs, but I'll have to postpone those nominations until more research is accomplished.

When Kate Blogs.  Check it out if you haven't, and thank you Kate.  I'm amazed that someone of your personal calibre has nominated me!

WTF?

Well, I like being a traffic controller.  I like being up during the day, I like working outside and away from people who would make my life miserable.

Or, at least, I think I do.

I have been working in the field now 4 weeks, but, I have only worked 12 days.

My boss says "No need for you to drive 2 hours to the worksite."  I say, I knew I'd likely be doing that when I started.  No issues for me.  So thats gotta be bullshit.  Where's the work?"

"Next week," says she.

That was last week.  I'm still waiting.

Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I wonder if I have done something wrong.  I'm new. I''ve made the odd error.  So has everyone when they are new.  No cars have been wrecked, and no one's been hurt.  So what the fuck?

If don't work, I'll never be good.  Simple as that.  I need the experience.

I have never been to the worksite late when I have been in charge of my own transport.  I am usually early.  I have also never knocked back any work, regardless of distance travelled to and from on my own time.

When I asked about work this week, she again says, "next week."  I'm not holding my breath.

I told her if I knew I would be working in an area for prolonged periods (4-5 days) I'd rent a room to forego travel.  Right now, I rely on a day-to-day update on whether or not I'm working the next day,  I'm not going to rent a room for a week if I'm only working 2 days.  I sent that in an email. 

Naturally, she has not replied.

I'll give her one more Monday.  If I've not 4 days work, I'm gonna hafta quit.

I know, I'm whinging...

I've done it!

It has taken nearly three years, but I have finally gone and done it, whether or not I can actually afford it.

I have gone to a lawyer to discuss the legal options for filing suit against the bastard that started the fire that burned my house to the ground.

In the initial interview, both The Wife and I had to relive the events of that fire.  It wasn't easy for either of us, but it was necessary.  Where we live, one has a maximum of three years to file.  The date of the fire was the 9 September, and in seven weeks, that window will be forever closed.

To make this happen I have had to sacrifice some bills that may make the next two weeks less that pleasant, but such is life.  Right now, they can simply get in line.

At the end of the day, the sentimental stuff that was lost in the blaze can never be replaced, but I'll settle for the money and the apology.  I couldn't have gotten through the crisis without the support of many people.  The local theatre group raised a few hundred.  The Sisters of Mercy at The Wife's place of work.  Her family and past students at a previous school. They all came forward with money, as did the wonderful people at the Salvation Army.

I also won't leave out the people Mobil Tolga that gave us free fuel for two weeks immediately following the fire.

All of you, money raisers and donors, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

But the guy who started the fire, not an apology nor a dollar to my knowledge has come.  So to you I say,  if you won't come to me, the mountain will come to Mohammed.

Reports of my Death

They've been exaggerated, to say the least.

New laptop, which means proper typing, which means ....

I'm  Baa-AAck!

Bwhahahhahaha...

No one and nothing is safe from my rants.  We all know that.  I'm working, I got my payout. 

Over 6 thousand dollars and wiped out in 24 hours.  Goddamn bills.  I, at least, bought a cheap laptop.  And by cheap, I mean ACER.  A brand I have only slightly more respect for than COMPAQ- I will never again own one of those.

So, What happened to my ASUS?

Graphics card shit itself.  Over heats and crashes the machine.

To help minimize this, I bought an i-5 which I am given to understand runs somewhat cooler than the the old core duo. 

The decision to buy this was a budget one.  An i5 with 4 gigs ram and 1 gig dedicated graphics was the minimum I was aiming for, and I acheived it for less than $700.  So I guess that makes me a sucker.  Next thing you know, I'll buy a great wall ute.

Regardless, Its good to be connected.

So, what do I owe you?

The last chapter in A Driving History.  I will be discussing my Prelude soon.

I'll even tell you bout my new job.  I see the sun these days, thats a big change.

I also get to drive the Gillies- 20km of twisty mountain road that is as fun to drive as it is paradoxically annoying.  It is almost too long.  But I will dedicate a full post to that drive.

And I still haven't got the damn haircut.

Of Mohawk Haircuts and Other Weirdness

Okay, first the other weirdness.  As a bespectacled person I have determined that the problem with looking for my glasses is that while I can't see them, they can quite clearly see me.

On with the headline proper.

Mohawk haircuts.  I had hoped the hairstyle had ended it's heyday with the demise of the A-Team from the airwaves.  Sadly, the reports of it's death were greatly exaggerated.

The fad has once again gotten out of hand..  The evidence I offer here is undeniable proof that this has, indeed, happened, with out doubt or question.


I saw something that damn near made me heave up my half eaten Subway sandwich.

A guy, who appeared to be about fifty, grey hair and all, sported one in the local mall's concourse.  He didn't even have the sense to shave the sides.  It looked completely ridiculous.  This spiky hairstyle didn't make him look cool. It didn't make him look like an old punk rocker.

It only served to make him look like a never was.

It only served to make him look uncool.

My unshaken sense of conservative styling hopes that the hairstyle came from some stupid wager the person- I wanted to say gentleman, but the haircut renders that word impossible to use- lost.  The more likely truth that it was something his misguided mid life crisis hormones encouraged him to take on notwithstanding.

Even if its some kind of world's greatest shave thing, can we just stop it?  I'm all for finding a cure for cancer but not at the expense of seeing something like that.  Especially over lunch

I will unequivocally say that Mr. T. remains the only living person who can pull off that hairstyle, everyone else is just a fool and a sucka.

All of which serves to remind me, its time for a haircut...

I Know What You're Thinking

You're thinking "For guy who has an opinion on everything, this bastard isn't saying much."

You'd be right too.  My computer is fucked. As soon as I repair it, I'll say more.  For now, all you get are my cheeseball updates.  So, it starts with my fucked puter.

It goes on with the fact that I have switched jobs. The away from home requirement means I won't be blogging as often as I have in the past, but I may still blog as much.  Just in bursts.

I did get my redundancy package, so I'll be buying a new computer as well as getting my old one repaired.  This tablet typing, and I use that word loosely, sucks chocolate salty balls.

It also means that I'll be able to pay my biker mechanic, once again saving my face sudden rearrangement.

We have 2 foster kids with us.  A 5 and a 7 year old.  Working nights I have grown accustomed to a certain level of peace and quiet in my life.  I can honestly say I am not ready for it.  At the very least, it will take some getting used to.

I am trying not to ignore you, but I am finding that, at the moment, my pesky life keeps getting in the way of blogging.

The Last Few Weeks in Torggil's World: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Insanity describes my last few weeks, accurately at that.

It truly is all happening, and its been a mixed bag of treats.

Good: My wife had her surgery and has recovered in good order.

Bad:  We've been on one income.

Ugly:  Money's tighter than speedos on a sumo wrestler.

Good:  The stepdaughter and her husband are moving out.

Bad:  There was fight with the in-law because the lazy ass wouldn't get off the couch.

Ugly:  Residual bad blood remains.

Good:  The Wife goes back to work, finally

Bad:  First night back she has a fall and severely sprains her ankle.

Ugly:  Needs a few more days.

Good:  I may have a line on a new job.  Coincidentally the school for which I work is offering redundancy packages.

Bad:  A maybe does not a job make.  I have to stay put until I actually have a job.

Ugly:  If I do get the one I apply for, I may be unable to blog more than once or twice a month.  And my night position ends at the end of the coming week.  They'll want me on days.  I don't particularly want a day shift.

Good:  My little Honda is back on the road.

Bad:  I still owe my mechanic $500.

Ugly:  My mechanic is a biker.

There's more, of course, but you get the general idea.

So my life has been a bit of a wild ride these last few weeks.  Things are stabilizing, though, and I hope to be back up to three blogs a week for as long as is practical.  If I do get that job, I'll let you know and give you notice so you know what to expect.

Surprise! I'm Angry!

Okay.  It's not much of a surprise, but that doesn't make the above a lie.  I am Angry.  I'm angrier than Marvin the Martian after a visit from Bugs Bunny.  And he was always very angry.

Right!  Why is it that whenever I get figuratively fucked no one bothers to reach around and play with my dick?

I am sick of debt.  If I ever get out of debt, I'm fucking staying out.

I am also going to have to try to reduce stress in my life, so when this pack of smokes is done, I'm quitting.  Again.  Maybe it'll last another 8 years.  That'll reduce my stress.  Right.

Anyways.  How was your week?

A Driving History 13: The Audi 80

She was a good car.  I bought her sight unseen or test driven in Cairns for $6990, total cost for sundry fees about $7200.

Powered by a delightful 2.8 V6 with power everything, I was very surprised at the interior space in the car, especially head room.  Only the stereo sucked.

I drove her for about 6 months, all up.  And like the VS Commodore wagon (see part 12) it was in my life just long enough to see me move from Charters Towers to where I live now.  A move that, given everything The Wife and I have gone through since the move, was probably a mistake.

One thing I did do with it was transport about 5 cats 500km.  You know what cats are like in the car, I was worried that I'd have to put up with them howling and carrying on for the entire 6 hours. That didn't happen.  They were agitated for the first half hour or so.  But after that, they must have got bored, because they all went to sleep, waking only to see why I was stopping the car- for food, fuel or bathroom.  Of course, they were very happy to be out of the car and the cage when we arrived at the new home.

It was a pleasure to drive on the road, however.  The front wheel drive gave it enough traction, and it had a bit of kick to it, despite the weight of the car.

Then, one day in May, I was on my way to work.  I use a side road from the main highway because the road is in better nick than the highway itself, but coming to the main highway, there was a yield sign.  As I approached I saw a car, bit of a ways back, coming up to the intersection.

Knowing how fast I go when I use the highway, I made the decision to stop and wait for it.  Sadly, the Rav4 behind me decided not to stop and promptly plowed into the back of my car.

While waiting for the cops and the tow truck to come, she did at least have the good grace to apologize.  Insurance details were exchanged and so the brief life the Audi had with me came to an end.

It was shipped to a local bodyshop where the insurance gurus decided that it was a write off.

They gave me $7500 for it.  I actually made $300.

A few months later, I saw a guy uptown.  He also owned an Audi 80.  Apparently his son crashed the front of it, and knowing mine was rear ended, (one of the joys- and I use that term loosely- of small town living) he wanted to know what happened to my car as the front end was fine. Because the insurance company bought the wreck, I told him he'd have to start tracing it from the body shop.

I don't think he ever did find out what happened to it.  I haven't seen his silver Audi uptown for a long time.

Not much of a story, but then I didn't have the car that long.

Coming soon:  A Driving History 14: the 89 Honda Prelude- and that will bring us up to date.

My Baby Came Home Today

She's back.  My Baby's Back!

She went away for 2 weeks,  Shacked up with some stranger, who apparently spent the whole time inside her.  I'm surprised the stranger would even have her, given she's been around the block a few times- I oughta know- but then, that's what the stranger does.

To make matters worse, the thing is going to cost me $700!

I am, of course, talking about my beloved car.  It has taken 2 weeks of questions, diagnoses and experimentation to figure out exactly why the fuel pump wasn't getting consistent power.

My mechanic- a clever, smart assed bastard who I absolutely admire and respect- spent the time cleaning up the fuel tank, checking the pump, and most importantly, repairing the power relay.

Given the age of the old girl- 23 years- and the mileage 376,000 km (235,000 miles), things like this are going to start to go wrong.  I know I'm coming to a crossroads with it.  Do I actually start repairing it?  Do I actually start getting the cosmetic work done?  Or do I replace it?

At least as much as I loved the Diplomat- a car lives on in the memories of all who rode in her- I love this car.  It's a  blast to drive.  She's not fast (0 to 100 kph in about 9 secs), but the thing can corner, tight, and all without having to engage in a drift.

I don't particularly want to replace it.  The car is too much fun.

But at the moment, I can't afford to repair it, either.

But, its home.  And have I missed it.

Welcome home.

Public Liability vs Personal Responsibility

Australia is getting bad.  Just the other day when my car broke down, I had to call RACQ (AAA equivalent); the guy who comes tells me that I had to stay on the sidewalk while he hooked everything up, because the government has made him responsible for my actions.  He was publicly liable for my safety.

Huh?

Since when did someone else become responsible for something I do?  I thought I became responsible for the things I do when I hit the age of 16.

Society here needs to re-examine the notion of personal responsibility.

Lets take the above situation.  If, for some reason, I stepped out into traffic and got clobbered by a passing semi, he becomes responsible?  He didn't step out.  I did.  What a way to commit suicide.  He shows up.  I step in front of a bus- get cleaned up and my family still gets to sue.  Its ridiculous.

Let's take another example.  I own a bar.  Guy comes to bar, gets smashed, walks home.  On the way home, he trips over a crack in the sidewalk and breaks his ankle.  Whose fault is this?

Apparently its mine.  I served him the drinks.  Alcohol impairs judgement, so he is not.  Yet, the guy was sober when he came in.  Sober enough to understand the possible consequences of drinking.  Not arranging for a safe way home, and choosing to engage in it anyway is a decision he made.  The responsibility should be his.

Example Three.  I own a bar (a romantic notion, but not one I think I'd want).  Like I do every night, I lock the place up and make it as secure as possible.  Next day, I come to work, and in the ceiling of the cold beer room there is a great big hole and on the floor, a guy with a broken leg.  Guess what?

He gets to sue.  He breaks into my business, destroys property, but I'm at fault because he hurt himself.

What kind of twisted reality is this?

This guy would have known the possible risks of ceiling entry, and chose to do it.  But it happened on my property so I'm at fault.

I know this isn't just Australia.  In Alberta, if I owned an acreage, and some moron was snowmobiling on my property and hit a buried tree, he would get to plan the lawsuit while flying through the air before hitting the nearest tree.  This could happen whether or not the guy had permission to be there.  But its not like I begged the guy to ride on property, or even gave him permission.  All I did was buy the acreage.

I didn't buy the skidoo.  I didn't ask him to be on my property.  I didn't put a gun to his head and force him to ride on unfamiliar land.  The guy did all of this by himself. Is not the fault for the accident also his?

In the USA, Phil Hartman's family sues the doctor because the prescription drugs Phil's wife was taking reacted poorly with cocaine.  Yet Brynn was, without consulting the physician, self medicating with illegal substances- substances she chose to take, and similarly chose to keep quiet about it.  Yet Zoloft manufacturer Pfizer was successfully sued.

Why has personal responsibility fallen by the wayside?  Why are we content to legislate away responsibility?  How does the guilty become a victim?

The whole concept of shifting blame is sickening.  It needs to be stopped.

If we have the right to live free then we also must be responsible for our actions, and I wish to be free, therefore, for my actions, I am responsible.

Shit Happens

Please let me apologize for not blogging for a bit.  I did intend a few days away after the AtoZ, but admittedly, it got a little out of hand.

My reasons are simple.  I was not anywhere I could access the internet on anything but my mobile phone.  I am not going to even try to do a blog from a mobile.  Its too complicated and would be full of errors- not that my posts are always letter perfect, I'll be the first to admit that, but I would spend more time correcting the post than actually writing it.

You see, I was in hospital.

No nothing too serious.  Just cellulitis- a really nasty rapid spreading skin infection that causes pussy blisters and swelling.  The treatment consists of 4 IV doses of flucloxacillin day over several days- a powerful antibiotic, that, when taken through an IV, burns my veins to crap, causing swelling and pain.

Immediately  upon my release, I had to take The Wife to hospital for scheduled surgery.

Even both of my cars have been sick.  My commodore for 4 new tyres and my Honda for a fuel pump- we're still waiting on the results of that by the way.

The Wife gets home yesterday but is readmitted today because of a post op infection.

And I've temporarily turned into a chain smoking grumpy man- as opposed to being merely grumpy.  I can't even get drunk because that will render the antibiotics I am orally taking ineffective.

So what's a man to do when his starts spinning out of control?

Be there for his wife, and when there's time- light another cigarette.  Because next week should be better, right?