I am... what I figure to be a (fairly) normal bloke... I werk [that's a running joke.. werk= work = [not funny] Werk Arbeit Macht Frei... Because we all plod away...      to make the + = - and for many... it doesn't ....werk,  cut-it, actualise, succeed.
I came up here, but it didn't work.... My apologies! I was wrong.
I hate this.

Soft cunts

...as an intermittent Blogger, it took me a while to remember 'where's that fucking button where I get to write and gob-off about stuff?' 

BUT! As you can see, I've found it! 

I'm a lonely sod... I'll admit it.. 

I had a visitor today... I don't get many, so it was a bit special. A woman from the "Community Local Health... something-or-other" oddly, I let her in and started listening to her spiel. 

I became suss when her presentation included Dr Wright (of Ray Martin Show fame) and had 'flip-chart' orientation... I talked with her for a while... She was nice, probably 50-60 y.o. Indian or 'subcontinent' descent... 

The "health" books were too expensive; I told her so. And then came the segway into "but there's another form of health; and that's the spiritual side..." 

A fucking god-botherer, eventually told me that her organisation was linked to Sanitarium, therefor The seventh day adventurers!

I told her I was an Atheist, I believed in The Force, not a supreme being... I didn't add (damn it!!) that I was trying to reconcile my Id to become a Jedi... [not that quick!] 

We discussed religion. I told her it was wicked. She said a prayer for me, I thanked her for that. I got some booklets, which I will read... one day. 

I tried to tell her my next-flat neighbour wasn't home... and closed the door. 

Yesterday,  I left home, suitcase packed, expecting a few days away... long days, good pay. After I drive up the Gillies Range, Atherton [Abernathy] is as wet as a shag on a rock... Job Start = 0900 Job Finish = 0930... 4 Hr min! 3 Hrs of driving (paid for 1) Early on-site... 4 Hrs pay... 

Today, another job! Woohoo! Meet Bla-bla on site, you'll have Young Matey meet you there at 0745... Good to go.

Pulling my boots on... [snapped a boot-lace] Phone rings... "Bla-bla rang, he says hold off. I've told young matey. He'll ring when he checks.... stuff! It's pissing down at Edmonton!" 

Stand Easy.... Rest.... [I ring Neato as I'd planned if I was werking...] 

Next one: txt: Job canned. txt back to confirm... 

"Canned. OK. Pete."

But is it OK, to keep Casual Workers [Capitals Intentional!] on hold? Boots on, keys in hand, ready to go...?

Then say No? Forget it!

I can understand the economics [vaguely] of running a business... but the Lefty in me SCREAMS 

"I was ready!" 

"I could've been on another job!"...

Y'fucking bastard... 

I'm on the fucking dole and trying NOT to be... I've got a job (that I do WELL!) and you tight-pricks won't cough-up the bills because you don't want to get wet. 

...soft. 

We are prepared to stop Traffic [Capitals Intentional] for you to do your job, in the rain, but you don't want to do your job, in the -passing- not very- heavy rain... 

But, I and "young matey" miss out on at least a 4 Hr min... because you're fucking Soft!

Made of Fairy-Floss!

 

Gunna get lazy with my intermittant post...

Here's some lyrics from the Stiff Little Fingers! ...and a link!
http://slf.com/

Punctuality's a waste of time
Now nostalgia is past it's prime
History's a thing of the past
Being first will never last

[Chorus]
Beep beep I'm an answering machine
I mean to say I say what I mean
Beep beep I've got very strong views
Plug in any loop tape you choose

My one single fault is modesty
I'm changing my views consistently
Amnesia's a thing I try to forget
Who can't kick gambling? Want to bet?

[Chorus]

The case for racism is black and white
If you want world peace you've got to fight
Must do what you're told to be free
Think what you like - if you agree with me

[Chorus]

Speak whenever you hear this tone
Scream whenever you hear this tone

Still here

Black rubber gloves and black rubber cargo pants, a gallon of port wine, a packet of cigarettes, air-con on and listening to the police on a scanner.

“It's life Jim, but not as we know it.”

The gloves are Nitrile actually, not rubber so as to be latex allergy-free... Apparently, the Germans invented nitrile rubber to use in automotive applications, and due to a general lack of rubber... being a tropical kind of plant the krauts were always short of the stuff, and being sensitive to petroleum products not too handy in a machinery scene...

...but they're black and tactile like rubber so I call them rubber. Because I can. And I do...

It's a funny thing, this latex fetish; funny=peculiar not funny=haha... It has a hold over me that is difficult to manage.

Let's put things in perspective... I = Me = Pete = addictive personality. Booze, drugs, fetish, 'peace-an-quiet', reading, work, you name it... I can over-do it!

And being an introvert.. ha ha ha try doing some Personality Type Tests! [Meyer Briggs based]{I?T? Derived from INTP, ISTP-T, ISTJ} I find it hard to explain or empathise with others, that they should just enjoy ...like me, enjoy and play with me, or leave me alone.

But... I digress! As usual and often.

Pete's Blog? Blob. Bog.. Recalcitrant Recidivist... unRepentant... 3xR.... not reading writin' and 'rithmatic... but Rubber, recidivist and unrepentant!

Hell's Teeth! Promises, threats and here it is

So... having been unhappy with my domestic situation; I made the threat 'if things don't get better, I'm leaving!'
I went to see a doctor, and a pshrink, got onto some SSRI medication which is for sad bastards to make them feel better... Specific Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors... whatever that means, really... I'm not sure they do much. Very subtle, whatever they do.

But not happy still! Maybe it was the culmination of too much, for too long, like a fish out of water, gasping and flapping about. Maybe the medication wasn't right...

I started with the comment that "There is a BIG difference between giving up, and admitting you've had enough!"
Push came to shove... and I said "I'm out of here!"
Walking out was turned into pushed with a time limit...

I'm now in a 'studio apartment' which is real-estate speak for one room, bed and kitchen included, and a bathroom and bog behind a door. The cheapest I could afford...
There you go!... I'm still paying Ph, health insurance, electricity, gas, the payment on the Engagement Ring et al... Fuck it!
...And getting a hard time for "abandoning us"

...there I go.

stuff, other stuff, shit, and everything else in the so called modern world

So... there's stuff, other stuff, shit, and everything else. In no particular order, of course.

Nothing seems to be in any particular order; me, my life, family, other stuff. 

I used to think me and my life [read: Me and My Life] were It and a bit... But with my significant other half and kids, I've learnt differently. 

It has become apparent that almost 50 years of "Life-Experience", not quite half-a-century, isn't enough too overcome the politically-correct, bush-lawyer, make-enough-fuss-and-I'll-win, extremist views of teenagers! 

OK, I can be, and maybe am, an arse. Arse. Spellchecker: arse! A conceited, cantankerous arse. Big-headed, arrogant, self-centred,  childish, immature and idiomatic ARSE... yes. 

But... I ask, is it too much to demand of pre/teenagers... "I have two rules! Do what you are told; when you're told"... ?

Is that too hard?

Look out! Pete's got a bLOG

Look out!
Hahahaha...  If you don't know me... and most don't...

Hello! Pete {offers my hand to shake}
I'm a truculent arsehole, a smart-arse and a big-headed arrogant bastard [although my parents Bless 'Em, would disagree; so would my elder sisters and brothers.
Yes, youngest of 5, me arriving in '66. Born and bred Victorian, went to school, didn't like it... Joined the army, left the army...

...And I'm here in FNthQLD.
[The cynic in me says "Welcome to Qld! Set your watch back 20 Years!!]