What a boomer, another good old day in New Zealand, or as those of native decent may say, Aotearoa.
So yesterday was the due date for the heir to my North Shore kingdom’s arrival date however I think things must be too good inside Mum’s stomach as Baby isn’t quite ready to come out and join the world yet. In saying that they do say most women of European heritage run a little overdue with their first born so it is all just a waiting game. This game however means I am still getting up each day and heading into work with my cell phone in hand ready to make a run for the door as soon as I get the word.
I must admit though my saving grace is that work has been pretty busy for the last few weeks with end of year exhibitions and Graduation coming up so I have not had a lot of downtime. On the flip side I am pretty sure Mere is ready for Baby to make his/her grand entrance into the world because lets be honest there is only so much Oprah and Dr. Phil you can watch. Although in saying that, this week on Dr. Phil he is working with some crack addicted prostitute sisters who are trying to turn their lives around and no longer suck wang for blow money, no pun intended.
Speaking of sucking wang, how about that Australian league team. What a punch of whinging bastards. They lose the world cup final to the Kiwis and then run around crying about how the refs, the administrators and everyone involved in running the tournament plotted against them. Suck it up ladies, you can have a shot at winning it back in 5 years or so.
Unfortunately it is not just the Aussie league players who have proven that professional sports nowadays is full of prima donnas. Of course we all know that soccer players world wide love to act it up, have a cry and try to get their mate to sympathetically cup their balls but over the last few weeks I have noticed the mighty All Blacks have been in the news having a cry about irrelevant shit.
There was once a time when rugby players, be any level of competition, were hard nosed buggers who just got on with it. Now, you would be hard pressed to find a team that doesn’t have at least one pretty boy who puts product in his hair before a game and probably showers in his silky Calvin Klein boxers instead of letting it all hang out whilst having a can of Double Brown in the locker room. Then you have got that fucktard Nonu who wore fuckin’ eyeliner in a game. What the hell was all that about, dude should have been dropped from the team for even thinking of such a thing. And now we have to listen to the All Black management having a blubber over the fact that some of the opposition aren’t respecting the haka. Harden the fuck up. If they don’t want to watch a traditional Maori war dance done by a few Maoris, even more Pacific Islanders and the odd token white guy they don’t have to. Here’s an idea, do the haka then get on with the game and don’t worry about who watched it or not. It is a test match build up, not New Zealand’s got talent.
With that off my chest I can progress with this narrative.
On Tuesday I was on my way to drop off some drinks for an exhibition and swung by my old work to have a quick cup of tea with my friend Josie. Seems a pretty normal thing to do and in most cases it is however I do admit whenever I go there I am always aware there is a distinct possibility I may bump into my old boss. Anyone who spent more than 3 minutes with me during my time of employment here will know that my feelings towards this woman’s ability to run a team were not favourable. In fact, truth be told I am surprised she can get her limbs to work in unison half the time. Anyhow, as my luck would have it just as I was leaving I walked around the corner to see her standing there. Then there was that weird awkward silence, you know the one, it is like when you are getting a little action with some bird you have just met and you accidentally call her Bruce or something. So yeah there was that silence, some bullshit small talk and then we both moved quickly and quietly to our nearest exit.
It was like when your dating a girl who isn’t all there but she’s hot so you just stick it out, then she lets herself go and you are left with some insane chick who repulses you, I know that’s a bit harsh but you get the idea. Anyway so you flick her off and life goes back to normal. Then one night you are out drinking with the boys trying to pull a new piece of tail and you bump into her and she looks hot. Now for a split second you think you may have been a bit hasty in getting rid of her but then you remember all the crazy late night phone calls, unexplainable breakdowns and missing ice cream and you pat yourself on the back for making the right choice. Then there is that awkward silence and you return to mates.
So yeah, I am not saying my old boss was looking good, or I was tempted to try and get my job back, all I am saying is those awkward silences pop up a hell of a lot in my life and the more you live with them, the easier they get.
Well I have rambled enough for one day, I don’t even know what I started writing about and I am pretty sure this reads relatively incoherently so I am going to leave it there. Till next time, where I promise I will try and piece together a more betterer written piece of prose, take care.
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