Thursday, September 23, 2010

The final day

Strange things happen to grown men who follow football.

Logic, decency, maturity… They’re either ignored or never there to begin with.

For the whole of 2010, I’ve attended and watched games, spilling beer on myself, losing all my bets and repelling women.

Something’s been different this year- we’ve been winning. There’s been less stress, more fun and a lot more hatred thrown my way.

With a grand final appearance just days away, it’s got to the stage where a premiership is finally a genuine possibility.

This has me nervous, excited and scared.

I’ve built a personality around near misses and heartbreak. I have no idea what to do with success and happiness.

What do successful people wear? Should I learn how to smile? What do I do with my hands?

What happens to people after success? Do we enjoy our moment and then disappear into obscurity like Will Smith? Or can we carry on and have long-lasting success like an Australian Idol winner?

Do I rub it in people’s faces? Do I wear a smug smile on my face for 6 months?

I’m so lost.

At the very least, if we cop another heart-breaking loss, I’ll know what to do with myself – Cry into a pillow, post a rhetorical depressing Facebook status update and tell myself that everything will be ok…Just like every other Friday night.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Georgie

Dogs aren’t for everyone.

They bark, they smell, they seek, they destroy and they have a never-ending appetite.

You need time for a pup. Time usually reserved for raiding the fridge, watching Simpsons re-runs and plotting against people who refuse to give the ‘thankyou wave’ when driving.

Dogs need exercise, they need attention, they need food and from my recent experiences, they also need socks, lots of socks.

Only a dog owner knows the fear of seeing one shoe where there should be two.

Only a dog owner can look past poo where there should never be poo and continue on living.

When you add it all up, logic tells you not to bother. But, logic and I get along like my Nonno and the English language – rarely on the same page.

So, I give you the story of the newest member of the family.

Five months ago, my sister and I found ourselves in the home of a Beagle breeder. After all of three seconds, we decided we wanted one.

So, the breeder pointed us in the direction of the boy pups and we picked one, naming him George.

After 24 hours of dog-proofing the house and listening to the pup cry and cry and cry, we got an interesting call from our breeder.


“All of our boy pups are still here. I think you have a girl.”

Upon checking, we found that George was indeed a girl.

Why did we not check beforehand you ask? Well, it turns out I’m an idiot.

In hindsight, I should have seen the signs. The complaining in the car on the way home, the confident strut into the kitchen, her inability to parallel park..

So George quickly became Georgie and, like all women, has gone about stamping her authority around the home.

Sure, I’m amazed at her ability to complain, find things to destroy and jump directly into my nether regions on a daily basis, but the pup has her bonuses.

There is something to be said for coming home and seeing someone there so excited to see you, their whole body shakes.

Georgie has been a breath of fresh air to a family that, let’s face it, was kind of getting bored with our last addition - my sister.

She fetches, she sits, she shakes hands and if we can get her to bark on command, she will have contributed more to society than Paris Hilton.

Having someone to sit next to in the sunroom and listen to my many tales of woe is refreshing.

Georgie agrees with me about all the big issues on life, she barracks for Collingwood and not once has she teased my receding hair line.

Dogs aren’t for everyone, but this one suits us just fine.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Writer's... Block


For a while now, I’ve been thinking about this blog business.

I’ve always enjoyed having my random thoughts heard and occasionally-appreciated.

I’ve got little interest in cars, I’m useless with my hands and I’ve done nothing constructive with my life to date, so I guess this is my chance at getting some much-needed attention.

I enjoy the process of writing; Beginning with an idea, procrastinating for three days and then finishing with the odd half-decent piece.

What I enjoy more than anything else is the phenomena of writer’s block.

Writer’s block – I laugh every time I think about it.
We have the entire world duped.

I’m sorry, I can’t do my job today. I am mentally unable.

Can you imagine this in any other profession?

Sorry boss, I have police-block. I need inspiration before I catch crims today.

Or…

Sorry boss, I have air traffic control-block. These things are just going to have to land themselves today.

Even though writers are the only ones that can lay claim to it, I think we’ve seen this before.

-Lleyton Hewitt seemed to have decent-human-being-block for a decade.
-The girl making my sandwich at Subway last week had good-hygiene-block.
-My dad has TV-remote-block
-Every guy in the world has attractive girl-induced-brain-block

So, how do you tell the difference between writer’s block and laziness?
It’s quite simple. One person will sit in front of his computer screen and get frustrated, the other will sit in front of his screen and get a high score on Bejewelled.

How do you beat writer’s block?
You write. Even if it’s absolute rubbish, at least you have words on the screen. Write something, delete it and then improve on it. Some of the best crap you’ll ever write comes after the throws of a supposed block.

I think that is what has drawn me to this noble profession. The beautiful ability to look at my screen, not do anything and be completely content in my laziness.

Now excuse me, I have to go get myself a drink, I should be working