A better class of dragon

A while back I attended a music festival - one of those la-de-dah shows where the 'better people' attend to drink expensive wine and show off their lovely hats - and happened to be verbally assaulted by one of the most elegantly foul-mouthed grandmothers I have ever come across.

I was in the queue to purchase a bottle of champagne from one of the many marquees set up by the local wineries, when I noted two elderly and rather well-heeled ladies in front of me having a discussion about the increased numbers of riff-raff who were in attendence this year.

Considering myself (rather proudly) to be one of these so-called riff raff, I decided to listen in.

They chatted on about lack of etiquette, inappropriate dress sense, brashness and hooliganism, with a few choice comments about lack of class and 'new money, no manners' throw in. All done with the nasally, whiney voice pitch that only an elderly trophy wife can muster when speaking to her own kind.

At precisely the moment that the bottle blonde matron in the boucle suit started on about the lack of quality cars in the carpark this year, another rather well-dressed lady accidentally bumped into her whilst walking back past with her purchase.

She smiled apologetically and gave her excuses, all politely and rather grandly. Madam 'Boucle-Suit' simply tossed her nose in the air and scoffed a rather curt, 'Stupid woman' rather loudly. The victim turned, looked her up and down and commented that she had apologised, threw her nose in the air and left the scene of the crime. All was silent for a moment, then it happened ...

"What an absolute c*nt!"

I spun around at the outburst which rolled off Madam Boucle-Suit's tongue like a an olde English war cry. I must have been standing there with my mouth open for some time, as I was the next target of her outrage ...

"AAAAAAAAND?!"

I had made the mistake of making eye contact and watched as her carefully made up face and hand-shaped coiffure zoomed in on me.

My jaw snapped shut with an audible slapping noise ... then my mouth began to twist. No matter how hard I tried, I was overwhelmed. I burst out laughing, which was to be my ultimate downfall. Quick as a whip, she snapped her head forward, so close that I could smell her denture adhesive and launched a foul-mouthed tirade that would have made any docker proud.

There were words in there that I hadn't even heard of ... much less cared to use in the confines of my own home. I did what any good turtle would do, I closed my eyes and pulled my head in, waiting for the assault to run its course. Then ... silence!

Opening my eyes I was stunned to see her admiring a vintage Tiffany & Co. necklace I was wearing ... and smiling! She opened her mouth and I instinctively cringed, but was met with a lovely, "You have a wonderful afternoon, dear."
I was stunned speechless, but my friend wasn't - she laughed ... and the dragon turned its head.

As far as I know, my friend is still alive. I had more important things to do, such as living.

Pearls of Wisdom from Brian's Head

Well, it seems Clare has been stalking me again.

Just received a lovely email from her and, as usual, her pearls of wisdom have jumped the strand and are now rolling under the lounge.

Clare has been thinking and has come to the conclusion that the Queensland floods, New Zealand earthquake and Japan's quake and tsunami - and my errant nose - is because we are all sinners and it is god 'teaching us a lesson'. Okay Clare, you asked for it...

First up, if we are all sinners and god is mad at us then we must ALL have a massive line up of deities knocking on our doors. Allah, Krishna, Buddha and all the gang must be angry too. The old 'thou shalt believe only in me' is spread across the board Clare, so how come EVERYONE is not smite down on a regular basis by the team that they don't believe in? Considering the variety of beliefs going on out there, the average trip to the shop would be a perilous exercise in dodging lightening strikes.

If anyone should be royally pissed off, it's Gaeia (or Mother Earth to those paternalistic blinded believers of good ole' Joe Smith). You seem to forget that we stand on a living, breathing organism and not some fluffy cloud carried around the universe by a bunch of good looking blokes wearing white togas and wings... over here we call that 'Mardi Gra'.

You mentioned in your email that Darwin is responsible for defiling the love of god and is now burning in the bowels of hell for all eternity. Well, at least he will be well fed, Clare. There are lots of dinosaur carcasses down that way and he'd be having a hell of a BBQ - Fred Flintstone would be proud.

The good people of these countries are having a terrible enough time of it without your insane rantings landing in my InBox. Have you not yet worked out that all you are is a source of amusement to my friends and I? Maybe you should grab yourself a fuzzy wig, a big pair of shoes and a red lipstick next time you are at WalMart.

You banter on about god, goodwill, love and forgiveness... yet you spout hatred and vile lectures on how god will wipe everyone out. So much for your all forgiving and all loving god... it appears your personal version is just a spiteful and vindictive little brat. Makes me think of the Far Side comic of the kid burning ants with a magnifying glass, it was labelled 'God as a Child'.

If you wish to live in fear of the Almightiest of Boogey Men, Clare... you go right ahead, but don't forget to concentrate on your knitting, plait your hair and make sure your knees are covered... last thing you want is for Ole' Cranky Pants to smite you down.

And when you say your prayers at night, consider yourself lucky that he shows mercy on the mentally ill.

The Inconvenience of Convenience

I tend to shop for groceries late at night, on my way home from work. I find that screaming kids, indecisive mothers and men who can't drive a trolley or understand 'parking laws' when perusing shelves tend to be absent in the wee small hours.

I can take my time checking out specials in peace and quiet, knowing that once I hit the checkout there will be no lineup amongst the magazine-reading-soccer-mums who gather at Hills District supermarkets. After a long shift at work, all I want to do is get my stuff, get through the checkout and get out without too much effort.

Not any more... welcome to the 'Self Serve Checkout System'.

These wondrous additions to the major supermarket chains have been devised to speed up the time you spend in checkout queues... by making YOU work for the groceries you've just gathered. Nifty, huh?

So, what we have here is a method for the store to save money on wages, make you deal with your own groceries, pack your own groceries, make you responsible for any input errors and force you to take payment matters into your own hands. Nice one...

Since when did I become a checkout chick? No insult intended to checkout personnel, but I've spent many years getting where I am in the industry and be buggered if I am going to take on an unpaid second job just to get my family fed. I am paying you for my groceries, what now... I have to work for them as well?

And let's consider the effect on teenagers saving up for their first car by doing some casual work in the local supermarket. In a time where the government is touting more jobs for the young ens, this really is a blow to these kids.

What about the elderly? Last thing I want to do at 75 is have to scan and pack my own groceries... seriously, what ever happened to customer service? For many elderly, that smiling, chatty 16 year old is the only conversational contact they may have had all week... do we really want to take that way?

Me? I hate the bloody things and this was compounded the other night by a chirpy 'I'm sorry madam, you HAVE to use the Self-Serve checkout'... Missy, I don't HAVE to do anything.

I had just started a tirade about it when a young bloke behind me arked up with a very loud 'Is she wearing a Woollies uniform? Does she look like a checkout chick? Does she work for you? NO... SO OPEN UP A BLOODY CHECKOUT!'

Quite swiftly we were ushered to a freshly opened checkout and we were through in minutes... legendary!

Shove your Self Serve checkouts Woollies... if I wanted to work for you, I'd apply for a job.

A lesson on butterflies...

I was sitting on the balcony with my usual caramel-soy-latte clenched in my newly awakened hands, when my neighbour's grand-daughter and her friend struck up a conversation within earshot.

I will never look at moths the same way again... thanks to two 7-year-olds:

Girl 1: Oh look, I've caught a butterfly!
Girl 2: That's not a butterfly, that's a moth silly.
G1: Um... are you sure?
G2: Yes, that's a moth.
G1: How can you tell?
G2: Butterflies are beautiful and colourful. They are happy and fly around being pretty all day. They love flowers and are really nice.
G1: Oh, so this brown thing is not a butterfly?
G2: No, moths are dark and yucky. They don't do anything and nobody likes then much... kind of like Emos.
G1: Ohhhhhhh... okay, I get it now. I'll just step on it then, okay?
G2: Okay...

I had to sneak inside so they didn't see me with my latte running out of my nose...

If the shoe fits...

Being middle-aged, I now have the right to be shocked when I hear teenagers say shocking stuff. But this was just downright sad...

I was standing behind two young girls - probably around the 15-16 year old age group - when they started up a conversation about a party they had been to on the weekend. It began with the usual who-did-and-said-and-looked like-what stuff, but then it became downright disturbing, going something a kin to this:

Girl 1: Yeah, but I doubt if he will ever want to see me again.

Girl 2: Why? He told his mate he thought you were great!

Girl 1: He said my vagina is wrong for him.

Girl 2: What!? What do you mean 'wrong'????

Girl 1: He said that it bent the wrong way and it was uncomfortable for him.

Girl 2: Oh...

Girl 1: Yeah, I really liked him too, it's such a shame. He said it was normal for a penis to bend... like REALLY bend to one side, so he said there must be a problem with my vagina bending the other way.

Girl 2: Oh well, you could always have surgery to fix it

Girl 1: Seriously? Wow, let's get on the web when we get back to my place and see how much it costs.

Girl 2: Cool! See... love always finds a way!

Girl 1: And hey, my birthday is coming up soon and mum said I could have a nose-job if I wanted one, but this would be sooooo much better!

They then wandered off, leaving me wondering how many other young girls this guy with the freakishly bent appendage had scarred for life...

What a tool... literally.

Man-Tanties

What is it with grown men... Alpha Male types especially, who have a tendancy to man-tanty at the slightest provocation?

I have a grown man who is 'not talking to me' as he didn't like something I said.

Only positive thing about this is that I no longer have to waste my time and energy with someone I have no professional respect for... and be buggered if I am going to be pulled into a petty 'I'm gonna get you back' war... that's for petulant children and uneducated meat-heads.

What's the saying... Misery Loves Company? Well, sorry mate... you're on your own.

Marshmellow politics

While at a friend's place the other day, I was lucky enough to witness the future of our country in the making.

Her four-year-old has decided she wants to be the Prime Minister one day. Mellie has taken to lining up dolls and bears to give them speeches on saving the environment, warning the dog to save water by not shaking it off over everything when they give him a bath and turning off every light switch and power point that she deems 'not being used'...

... much to the annoyance of her mother when she is writing an article and the PC suddenly flicks off.

However, she exibited an uncanny understanding of the economy when her mum gave her a handful of marshmellows to share with the dog.

Mellie carefully cut one of the marshmellows into 4 pieces and gave them to the dog. When I asked her why she did it, she replied that she was economising by making it look like there was more than what there was... and by giving the dog the same number of marshmellows that she had, that it wouldn't notice.

Our country is so... so... screwed,