Darren's Sudoku Grid

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Even my dreams are not Normal

Yesterday I made a rich seafood moray, a Thai seafood mix I got from the frozen section of New World, with a lot of cheese, milk and macaroni, which I ate before work last night. I went to bed with acid-reflux, which I tried to calm with chewable quickezze and cold milk. I had a strange dream early this morning. Some how I was transported to a place where homosexuality was the norm and all heterosexuals were criminal deviants. I wanted to break the law. So I decided to lure a woman, 'Cathy' (like my old Matua Primary school friend Catherine?), who looked a bit like Cameron Diaz, into a sitting room in order to seduce her. The room was somewhat similar to Auntie Rona and Uncle Jack's old lounge except it had a white shag pile carpet, and proper curtains rather than venetian blinds. It was full of naft old antiques, but no bloody tourist teaspoon wallhanger. When I got there with the woman and closed the door she had turned into a grey burmese cat. I sat on the sofa with the cat, which had a collar with some kind of flashing surveilance device. Before I could figure out what it all meant, I woke up.

Picture to be inserted here

Watch this space. As soon as I can figure out how to post pictures, one will be here.

Working like a dog for the Bossman.

Work as a temp for a multi-national (I hate the pc term 'trans-national' as it sounds like patrioticTG/Is) insurance company is soul-destroying. "Hello Mr./Mrs./Miss/MS. Stoatgobbler. My name is Darren and I'm calling from Clone and Associates. You haven't heard of Stone? We are a scum-sucking insurance company with a bad reputation for customer services who wants to steal all your hard-earnt money. Our brokers will visit you with an over inflated quote at a time that suits you, but only if you meet our tough grading criteria. Have a nice day! And oh, would you like frys with that?" Yet my job enables me to have enough money left over after paying the bills to buy a beer and go to the occasional movie. My supervisors are two 30-something chicks who are younger than me (sad!), and if we do well we sometimes get chocolate or wine. Most of my co-workers, the ones who are left after those who quit and or were fired, are mostly Commerce students from Vic Uni'.

Parties One

Went to a party last night. It was hosted by some twenty-something muso called Steve. Red light-bulbs, small smoke machine and laptop downloaded music. The guy Steve is a wannabee light popstar/journo student with several high-maintenance, twenty-something journo-school chicks as flatmates, whom I deliberately avoided meeting. I'm not aroused by pretty, over-dressed bimbos with equally dull rugby-playing boyfriends who appear magically from the background only when someone starts a conversation with 'their' woman. Music, wine with Kane and Seann and conversation with some flatuent right-winger and Nick Archer. I don't mind dancing with Kane as he always does a variation of the 'funky-chicken'. 'Clothes-Horse' and her plump friend turn up and CH starts to hit on Seann (which I was tempted to tell her was a complete and total waste of time). CH was skinny, pretty, brunette and very dull, and kept telling us of the virtues of her boyfriend, while she stimulated humping Seann's knee. The plump girl seemed to like me, but I was not in the mood, especially as my cough was still bad and she had CH as a friend (bad taste). But the plump chick was the only even remotedly interesting woman at the party. Ofcourse, as things go, she left early and I failed to get her number. After the tiddly Seann, argued with Kane and left. I went to sit by the fire. My flame-watching was rudely interrupted by some drunk arsehole telling his journo-bim girlfriend that although he has seen other women, that he still 'loved' her and didn't want her to dump him. He 'forgave' her spending time with some equally boring arsehole, that he wanted to punch out. They embraced, and a very drunken fashion. I took that as my exit and walked home.