Friday, 24 June 2016

Brexit, Bill Shorten, & Dog Barf All In One Post!

I'm kind of in a head-and-tail spin about the whole Brexit thing.  I'm not sure about the short-reaching OR the long-reaching ramifications.  The stock market has taken something of a good old arse-fucking, so it would seem.  This isn't bothering me too much because stocks that fall, do climb up again.  So I've heard.  I've never been a chalkie on the exchange or anything like that.  From what I've observed when a major event happens, the stock market does get a bit of a pummelling, and then it recovers.  I'm sure once every body is over the shock, things will be okay again.  Slowly, painstakingly, slug-on-Valium pace to be sure, but they will get there.

There is one small advantage to this Brexit thing - it's knocked the whole Eddie McGuire thing into a cocked hat.  For the past few days all I've heard about is needless whining and - as my friend Mark puts it - pussy arsed sookery over some hamfisted comment made by a sports personality. I really think nobody will be game to say anything soon, and we will all be making bland, generic anodyne statements.  We will sound like soulless androids. 

Along with the ludicrous saga of the Eddie McGuire vs Caroline Wilson kerfuffle, Roads Minister Duncan Gay told a young senator building a road was not like buying a handbag or a car.  Once again, everyone went into meltdown.  Look, Gay's comment is not overly clever.  But he kind of has a point because building a road probably requires the input of a civil engineer, and some other people to clear the space, flatten the area with a roller, and to pour the bitumen.  Some others will have to hold the Stop/Go sign to control the passing traffic whilst said road is under construction.  Buying a handbag requires some money.  So does buying a car.  Really, shouldn't everyone stop bleating and bitching and beefing about inconsequential bullshit like this?  To all of you who have a problem, it's probably time to pull up your big girl panties.  Sure, Gay's comment was lame but the thing is, when you're in an environment that features a variety of aged and gendered demographics, you are very likely to hear a comment that reflects an attitude of a different era, or different view.  If he was blatantly abusive, then of course that would be different.  Here, he was just idiotic.  And if you believe an apology from Gay is warranted, then change your fucking tampon and quit the sooking.

The other tauro-scat of the past couple of days has been the revelation Bill Shorten has gone into a strip club in the past.  He said when he realised what type of venue it was, he left.  How could he not realise what sort of a venue it was before he entered?  They usually have a flashing sign that reads: 'Hot Naked Girls!' - or words to that effect.  The sign is often accompanied by a neon silhouette of the female form.  Just to get the point home, a spruiker in an ill-fitting tuxedo stands at the door encouraging people to 'come right in, sir, and enjoy the show!'  And even if the establishment doesn't have garishly coloured neon to make sure the passers-by know what's lurking inside, there is usually a sign - maybe even a clumsily handwritten blackboard one - to lure the customers in.  It's called advertising.  But preposterous notion that he didn't know it was a strip club aside - who bloody cares if he attend?  Strip clubs could be construed as being a touch infantile and tawdry to be sure, but he wouldn't be the first person to attend one.  God, I remember the stink and kapooha when it was revealed Kevin Rudd had attended one.  This was during the 2007 campaign.  All I could think was - again - so bloody what?  Yeah, again, kind of sleazy entertainment but shit, it's not like he led us to partake in the invasion of a sovereign nation, is it?

If the world isn't as bloody nuts as I think I can handle tonight, things took a turn for the worse when my German Shepherd/Kelpie cross puked on the lounge.  Instead of doing a manicure, I was donning PPE gloves and getting out some plastic, vinegar and bicarb soda.  Also, I think I will not purchase that type of dog food again.  There is something disconcerting about seeing partially digested lamb-and-rice balls still almost with their original integrity on your gorgeous lounge.  The dog actually is not allowed on the lounge unless I have a sheet draped over it, which I did.  So the dog was lying on his sheet, but instead of containing his barf to the sheeted area, he did it on the lounge.  So I've been cleaning my lounge instead of painting my nails.  I don't often paint my nails, but I saw an online tutorial for a French polish manicure, and the girlie side of my personality (which doesn't surface very often at all, she's kept buried and locked away in my inner cellar) was just squealing ecstatically for me to give it a try.  I will do it tomorrow morning.

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