Car-Nage

 It's just been a cruddy sort of day that's got me in a bit of a malaise. Firstly, the weather has been oppressively hot and humid. Also, I came down with a bit of a tummy bug today that's sapped me of energy. But what really drains my energy and boils my piss is the sheer stupidity of some drivers. 

This is a really crazy time of the year. When I die, I'm going to Heaven because I think I experienced Hell already today at one of my local shopping centres. The car park of this particular spot is best described as horrendous. It is not flat and even; it has a fiendish topography of rises and bumps and craters that resemble a reproduction of the moon. The civil engineer responsible should have put aside his or her crack pipe before drawing plans. It's a nightmare to negotiate a loaded shopping trolley, even worse if you've got a toddler sitting in the child seat of one - I'll never forget the time I snagged a bump and my then eighteen-month-old nearly spilled out; I was lucky to get away with only the twisted ankle I sustained. Today, I was rostered to get some shopping for a client and the only parking spot I could find was outdoors in a bay situated on an incline of about fifteen degrees. Whilst this does not warrant crampons, rope, and pickaxe, it is just right to set  your teeth on edge when you're pushing a trolley. 

When I went to the put the groceries in my vehicle, the next spot was empty, which enabled me to manoeuvre (with effort) the trolley next to my car. A friend who was in the line of vehicles entering into the park saw me struggling and dispatched her young daughter to assist me with the trolley. I had the trolley next to my rear driver-side door in readiness for unloading when lo and behold (and fuck me dead!) some braindead gronk started reversing his ute into the spot where the young lass and I stood. 

Astonished and flabbergasted, we edged back with the trolley, wondering was he aware we were there. He kept reversing in and I had fleeting visions of footage from Christine screaming through my head. My friend got out of her vehicle and stormed over to the gormless deadshit, and demanded to know what he thought he was doing, and suggested he help us rather than try to run us over. His excuse was he didn't want to hold up the queue of drivers. I don't know about you, Reader, but given the choice, I'd rather wait in queue whilst a person is packing away groceries than see the grisly carnage of people getting run over, whether or not I get to the shops in plenty of time! 

We ended up with trolley at the bonnet of the car and smoke coming from my ears. The guy got out of his ute and offered to help me with the groceries. As he should, the useless imbecile. I thanked him for helping me, but pointed out had he called out to the drivers behind him he was waiting for a person who was putting groceries in a vehicle, I'm sure they would have understood. Also, there are concrete structures to indicate where to stop the vehicle, and they proved most awkward to get the trolley around as we tried to avoid getting hit by this cockwomble. 

It kind of wrecked my day, as you can imagine. I know it's the season of peace and goodwill, but I'm not wishing this popped boil a Merry Christmas; he wants to be yeeted into the sun. 

Flint & Print

 This post is going to be all about dumb things I've either been called or told to do lately.

1. Aunt Lydia. If you're not au fait with this name, Aunt Lydia is one of the villains in The Handmaid's Tale. Her backstory is that she was a former lawyer and school teacher pre-Gilead, but now trains and supervises (and tortures) the women at the Red Centre, referring to the times when women were allowed to make their own choices as 'anarchy'. She is not at all a nice character. In fact, she is something of a total fucking bitch, for want of a better phrase. I know there are times when I am not the sunniest person in the world, but I have never called for the silencing and oppression of women. Quite the opposite, in fact. Anybody who knows me will attest to this. So, how did I earn a comparison to an odious shitbag of a woman who is a traitor to women everywhere? Why, by disagreeing with the Liberal member for Boothby, Nicholle Flint, that's how! Before I proceed, I will point out the name wasn't bestowed upon me by Ms Flint, but by some other tweep. Flint posted a link of a YouTube video by Friendly Jordies  (hereafter referred to as 'FJ') on Twitter, and in her accompanying comment decried FJ as an enemy to women and demanded Anthony Albanese weigh in and denounce FJ to the other side of the globe and back, basically (seriously, what does bloody Albo have to do with any of it?).

Anyway, I watched the video, and whilst it can by no stretch of the imagination be described as flattering of Flint, I am hard-pressed to find any comments that are sexist, per se. I therefore replied to Flint and stated FJ was criticising her because he disliked  her views and her policies, but that is because he clearly thinks her views and policies stink, and has nothing to do with her being a bearer of the XX-chromosome. I went on to state that disliking her doesn't make a person an enemy of women, but her government were quite happy to sweep under the carpet the alleged sexual assault of a former staffer, which is more threatening to women than some YouTuber's jokes. 

So yeah, shortly after this, someone replied and called me 'Aunt Lydia' and accused me of thinking I am entitled to tell women what they are allowed and not allowed to consider sexist. When the dizziness subsided from rolling my eyes with powerful ferocity at this nonsense, I just replied, 'Okay, dear.' 

I am at a loss to see how what I said is being an Aunt Lydia. I stand by what I said. I did not see anything actually sexist in the video, nor did I tell Flint she wasn't allowed to see anything sexist in it. If she does see sexism in it, then that's her problem and I think she should rub some Tiger Balm into her shoulders because that was one hell of a stretch. 

2. So, the dumb thing I've been told to do is get an age-appropriate haircut. Again, this occurred on Twitter. I am not inclined to take fashion advice from some anodyne-looking gronk who looks like he spends all day gaming in his parents' basement and eating Fruit Loops, but what is an age-appropriate haircut? I'm over fifty, so does that mean I must have the auburn cascade I've sported most of my life shorn off and shaped into the Lady Di hairdo (pre-engagement to Prince Charles)? That's not going to happen. I know we change over time, but when I was in my twenties, I favoured leopard print, skulls, heavy metal and hard rock, and preferred my hair long. Take a quantum leap to nowadays, and I still wear leopard print, have a glass skull paperweight on my writing desk, and won a drink voucher at trivia the other night when I answered the birthplace of Black Sabbath was Birmingham. Oh, and my hair is still long. Women my age are classed as invisible and I refuse to age gracefully, swathed in beige polycotton blend and with short hair. No, I'm going to put on my leopard print jacket and make some noise!

But right now, I'm going to make some dinner. 

The One Wherein I Mention Marcel Marceau, Peter Garrett, Plastic Bertrand, & Boofhead Et Al

 I've been having a very pleasant evening. I spend time helping students with the school work, but tonight my seventeen-year-old asked me for my assistance. He's written an explanation for a visual arts project, which is musically themed. The genres he has chosen are rock, pop, techno, and stage musicals. I explained why he should use an Oxford comma and why he should ditch the ampersand and write 'and', as well as how a reflexive pronoun should be applied. To bond with my son and talk grammar puts me in a state of blissful halcyon. But what really moved me was reading his explanation as to how the music 'spoke' to him. He wrote from the heart about how each genre affects him differently, and I particularly loved his self-comparison to Apollo, the Greek god of music, when listening techno and its musical idiosyncrasies. I guess what got me is that my son articulated exactly how I feel listening to music.

Speaking of music, today I had cause to view on YouTube a clip of Elton Montello singing Jet Boy, Jet Girl. Note-for-note, it's pretty much Ca Plane Pour Moi. But the lyrics are not a translation of the latter's nonsensical, um, whimsy (some would say 'bullshit', but I'm running with whimsy). I think the best way to experience this song is to look at it for yourselves, but I will forewarn you it is reminiscent of Marcel Marceau wearing a rude shirt and dancing like Peter Garrett on a hotplate, whilst singing disturbing lyrics about a dude who fellated him and who is now apparently into chicks. Also, the narrator of the piece is fifteen. Kind of like what makes A Clockwork Orange disturbing viewing (along with just about every other aspect of the film). 

What else is disturbing? Politicians' behaviour, that's what. Oh, I know you're all thinking: 'Big whoop-de-doo, what's your next great proclamation; gravity makes things fall?'; but they have been utter jerks, and it's not just limited to one party. 

Usually, the LNP do my head in, and this week was no exception. David Van making growling noises when Senator Lambie was speaking is one example. Don't like Lambie? That's fine; you don't have to. But Van, do you seriously think making animal noises whilst the woman had for the floor was appropriate? Would you like someone doing that to you? Or how's this: would you like someone to treat your daughter that way in the workplace? I didn't think so. Get in the sea, you obnoxious popped boil. 

Today, I had cause to be even more appalled. Generally, I don't mind the Greens, but Senator Lidia Thorpe is doing them no favours with her nasty comment to Senator Hollie Hughes in an interjection (I believe today or yesterday), which was words to the effect: 'At least I keep my legs shut!'. Hello? WTAF? In what universe is this deemed prudent senatorial behaviour (although there sure is a lot of rotten carrying on in QT)? The comment has been construed as a dig about Hughes having birthed a kid with autism. I think it sounds like slut-shaming. Seriously, didn't we leave behind this type of offensive, sexist, and pointless snarking around twenty years ago? There is no level or angle of spin that is going to make that comment in any way acceptable or funny. It's not, and furthermore, it is utterly disgraceful. Adam Bandt, are you going to call out or castigate your senator for this objectionable remark? Given the crap to which Thorpe's fellow Green Sarah Hanson-Young was subjected by David Leyonhjelm, I find it bizarre that Thorpe would make such an unconscionable comment. So you keep your legs shut, do you, Lidia? How about you include your MOUTH next time  you get the urge to let forth something so pathetically pointless and reminiscent of a coke-fueled 1980s board meeting? This grotesque type of insult has the potential to detract from any decent work you are trying to do, so put brain in gear before putting mouth in action, next time.

There was, however, one thing I did enjoy from Parliament House this week. Of course, it was Anthony Albanese calling Spud-the-Dud Dutton 'Boofhead'. Thank goodness it was in parliament, otherwise Albo might have been on the receiving end of a defamation action! Oh, it made me guffaw, my friends. What's more, I think I might purchase some of the merch celebrating this moment.