This is me today.
I’m so yayful I had to jump on the treadmill for an hour to squash a demonic urge to bounce around the house to Guy Sebastian’s new song. Shudder.
So, my raison d’yây?
Yay #1 – In 3 sleeps I’ll be on a big scary plane on my way to sunny, happy Turkey. Work has been so shitty this week that against all my usual instincts, I’m actually embracing the concept of flying halfway around the world to wreak havoc in a conservative Muslim republic. It’s going to be balmy, culturally rich, and crawling with hordes of greased up Mediterranean spunks that totally dig my Aussie accent.
Yay #2 – I forgot I lodged an expense claim at work a couple of weeks ago, and suddenly found another $1500 in my account today. Fricken YAY.
Yay #3 – I’m going speed dating tomorrow night (italics added to highlight velocity), with a couple of girlfriends. I haven’t dated in about 7 months, as I’ve been going through a mild men-are-superfluous-to-my-existence-but-I’m-not-a-leso phase which appears to be lasting most of my adult life. However, with this trip to Turkey and the aforementioned greasy hordes, I’ve decided it’s time get back on the wagon. Also, I’m not getting any younger and my fabulous rack is starting to wilt. So tomorrow, at some trendy bar in the city, I’ll meet twelve men aged 24 – 32 from which to choose the next dickhead to add to Inga’s Almanac of Knobjockeys.
Yay #4 – I’ll be coming straight back from holidays and headfirst into my cousin’s Hen’s Night. It will involve a river cruise, limitless champagne, flight attendant outfits, a limo and strippers. Yep, I’m definitely back on the wagon.
In the spirit of Father’s Day, I’m hereby re-hashing a blog from a few years back in a feeble attempt to express my appreciation for the inimitable, effervescent, and downright funky specimen of humanity that is My Old Man.
Plus I’m going out for sushi and don’t have time to knock up anything new and poignant. Heh.
So, here’s a mere fraction of the wisdom Dad’s imparted to me over the years. Whatever dilemmas you currently face, I have no doubt you’ll find a cogent solution below:
Biology
The bacteria which causes pulpy kidney in sheep is clostridium welchii type D. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve been thankful to know that.
Crime Scene Investigation
The ‘arrows’ in tractor tyre prints point the opposite direction to which the tractor was travelling when it made the prints. Unless, of course, the tractor was reversing at the time.
General knowledge
Tractor tyres are full of water. (Dad knows lots about tractors.)
Darwinism
Long toes are evolutionally preferable to short toes as they grip the planet to better effect, thus preventing one from being hurled off into space. Presumably, the dinosaurs had an insufficient toe-length to height ratio.
Road Safety
Keeping your eye on the white line on the edge of the road will stop you being blinded by oncoming headlights when driving at night.
Medicine
A quiet rum and coke on the beach will cure anything that ails you except the common cold, which can be cured with a handful of zinc tablets.
Self Improvement
You’re never too old to change your eating habits, to learn to fly a Boeing 747 or to watch Rage. However, you can be too old to tolerate idiots, children, tourists, doctors, neighbours, council workers, bad movies and trips interstate.
Life Coaching
Take responsibility for your mistakes. To a small degree, this encompasses shortcomings in one’s own offspring. A very, very small degree. Offspring may not claim alcoholism, drug abuse or mathematical incompetence as a genetic predisposition.
Cars
Never buy a Land Rover.
Repairs & maintenance
If it can’t be mended with Araldite or fish oil, it’s probably time to get rid of it. This includes one’s own anatomy.
State Law
The classification ‘protected species’ becomes null and void the instant said species ventures uninvited into a human dwelling.
Feminism
Generally, women fall into two categories: “She’d be no bloody good on a farm” or “Geez, she’d be good on a farm”. This goes a long way to explaining my skewed views about femininity.
Happy Father’s Day y’all!
In two weeks I shall be touching down in Antalya, Turkey, for a week or so of frolicsome feminine fun. I’m just about organised – all I have left is to investigate what foodstuffs I’m allowed to bring into the country as sustenance for when I spend the first 24 hours locked in my hotel room huddled in terror under the bed. I’m still not thrilled about this ‘foreign country’ concept, but I expect I’ll have a different outlook when I get back. And I have travel insurance, so when the drug lords abduct me and infect me with chlamydia at least I won’t be stung for the hospital fees.
To be honest I’m not as cripplingly anxious about the whole endeavour as I was a few weeks ago. Because, as so frequently happens when I start worrying about stupid things, fate stepped in and gave me something proper to fret about.
In this case, it’s moving to Western Australia.
I’ll be leaving my beloved Melbourne to start a new life and new job in the new year. It will mean more money and better weather, but also entails uprooting myself from the rather comfortable existence eight years as a Victorian has afforded me. Not to mention hauling myself, all my possessions and two cats 2700 kilometres down the road. For those of you playing at home, allow me to illustrate cartographically:
Now if that’s not cause for concern then I''m not bloody well sure what is.
