I got a rap today. Not praise rap, doosh doosh. But bad Mikey.

It was a pre-six month performance agreement meeting. My leave got a mention in the bad way due to bouts of late starts and a deficit in my flex leave bank. I also copped a 'I had to re-do some of your work' comment cos I'd let some shoddy reports go through.

Well I felt like shit. Mainly cos it was new boss having to deliver it. It's fair enough too. I have had issues with attendence - actually I always have. I don't think I've ever had more than 10 days sick leave in the bank in the decade plus time I've been a public servant. I get sick, I have time off. I may even have to get a case officer to help manage my illness. Though I can't think of what they could do that I am not doing already. Read more »

I've had ups and downs these past two years, and am still on anti-depressants - mostly as part of pain management - but I've noticed I'm blogging more and reading people's blogs more. I think that's a sign I'm maybe feeling a bit better. Like taking an interest instead of simply feeling 'meh' and wanting to blob like a Dali clock.

And I've got my foot picking down to just nail removal and working on the skin where my big toe meets my foot. See, that's an improvement.

On the be more positive course I went on there was a lot of group / personal reveal moments. One of them was 'tell us a strength you have.'

I was struggling to come up with one. Finally I volunteered computer skills in that I am slightly more advanced than a typical white collar worker. Read more »

Recently we did a course where we learned to come from a positive viewpoint in how we related to business. It was kewl. One of the things to be positive was to ask 'and how are you feeling?' at the start of gatherings. The idea being you would share when you're up and down and basically feel like people are taking an interest.

So we did that today.

'And Mikey, how are you feeling?'

'Gassy'.

Apparently telling the truth when it has a fecal tinge is not viewed as positive sharing.

I don't see why ... they will share it whether they like it or not. Read more »

T was born to our good friends L & N & S the other day. Blessings upon his new life!

He certainly picked a pair of awesome parents to be raised by. For they areth the shizzle.

Some life advice from HM for you.

Don't use ear candles.

Don't go chasing waterfalls. They're slippery and dangerous.

Somedays will be bad. Others will downright suck. But the good days beat will beat them hands down.

At home one of my main wrangling jobs of theNoo is before bedtime reading. He gets the single sofa chair and I get the robust hand-me-down red kindy chair. He selects up to four books to be read then it's off to bed.

When he was a baby in a cot I'd read to him at night before he went to sleep. To make it interesting I'd do accents - French, Irish, South African, and celebrities - William Shatner, Patrick Stewart etc. He was a baby so he couldn't protest my choice of how I read him his tales.

He can now. He can and does.

I ask if I can read it in 'insert voice style here'. 'No!' he shrieks. 'No (insert voice style here)!' He then leans his melon against my face and says 'Read poppley'.

Sometimes I will go into voice style mid-way cos it's funny when he realises I voided the pact and he yells at me 'No! Read POPPLEY!' Read more »

The very best writers are those where when you read their books you don't realise you're reading.

It's a tough act to pull off and Bill Bryson is one of the few authors who can do it.

At Home: a short history of Private Life is Bryson's examination of how day-to-day life in the west came to be and how our homes became what they are. From the number of tines on a fork, to why the fork was used, to how houses were made, how the industrial revolution changed the way we lived, how bathing went from never to daily, and how a room's function morphed and changed over time to what they are today. Indeed the book's structure goes from room to room of Bryson's own home, explaining its specific history then goes into the broader history of that type of room itself, including the typical contents found there - with furniture and fittings also covered. Read more »

While on the the toilet...

I really like to crap by dim light. Makes me feel like I am in a nightclub. Stall needs a mirror ball!

Don't you hate when you have a dag and have to jiggle it off? If cubicle's a rockin' don't come a knockin' !

Guys at a trough urinal. If is metal dry, do you skip side to side to make it all wet?

There's this myth or legend or what have you that Persian weavers, who in ancient times were the masters of the art of carpet weaving, would deliberately put a wrong stitch in their work. The idea was that they should not dare to challenge perfection by creating a perfect work because only God was perfect.

I wish my mistakes were deliberate. Then I wouldn't have made them.

I signed off on a report the other day some two months in the making. Thousands of copies were printed. Inevitably there will be an error. Sometimes humorous. Sometimes very minor. Sometimes quite big.

This was a big one. A provider had changed there was this entire section on the new provider. Only in the introduction some dated text referring to an old provider as providing a key service was present.

I found out when the old provider called me and asked why they were getting a bunch of calls on it. Read more »

Y'day the place where Master Chefs apparently shop, Coles, had Sare-Lee ice-cream for $6 a tub.

On a whim I got a tub of Ultra-choc.

When I got home I had half a mug full - yes I prefer ice-cream in a mug.

I had to nuke it a bit first to make it gooey to use a spoon on - otherwise you're in danger of Uri Geller-ing your implement if you try and dig it out.

This made the remains of the Ultra-Choc freeze in a gooey appearing state.

Today I managed a motion.

It looked exactly like my Ultra-Choc of the night before.

Thanks for nothing Sare-Lee!

I was supposed to have my first breath test today.

However I forgot about it until 6am when I woke up with a start and consequently had fucked up on the fasting requirements of the day before. So now I have to travel across the length of the ACT to report in and be told 'no test for you' and re-book.

Oh but that is not all, oh no, that's is not all.

The tests could only be conducted four weeks after I became Mikey two-snakes. Hence the delay in getting to the breathy peeps. As I was reading the test preparation notes - and my fuck up of the day before fast - I noticed there was a dot point on the 'four weeks before cease and desist' that was relevant.

No taking dietary supplements of the stomach bacterial kind. The very kind I take faithfully every day. When I booked in they didn't tell me about it - but then they also said to check the site. But I didn't think to check the site until just now and saw it. Read more »

So the Federal election is for 21 August.

For those that have moved since last time don't forget to make sure you're enrolled.

Go to www.aec.gov.au to check. IT CLOSES 8pm MONDAY 19 JULY

To be honest I'm a bit meh about it all. Last time, after 11 years of the H-Man, koo-koo ka choo, I was excited to see the back of him. But now ... well ... maybe it's just me feeling meh but I feel meh about it so far. Read more »

I share too much. Not stuff, though I like to think I will share stuff where it's appropriate to do so. No, I share too much of what I do in the embarrassment department.

The other day, freshly able to dry fart but still suffering unusual tinge of fecal reek, I dry farted.

At my desk.

The putrid stench wafted upward. Fortunately the corral was just populated by me when it happened - but they were coming back.

I rapidly decamped and went around to the other side of the workstation horseshoe unless the smell wafted away.

The lads on the other side are more ... well ... earthy. I like to think normal. They asked what I was doing lurking in their area.

So I told them.

They laughed. Now whenever I'm around their side they ask if I am escaping a noxious emission. Read more »

A while back we went to an aquarium. During our visit we bought a pack of plastic sharks for the noodles man.

I remember walking back along the nearby boardwalk - a shark nestled in my top pocket as we'd opened the packet and given him a few to play with - and I just started singing.

'There's a shark on my nipple and it's giving it a squeeze, giving it a squeeze, giving it a squeeze. There's a shark on my nipple and it's giving it a squeeze ... in the most delightful way...'

Good times.

Recently a bunch of the sharks entered the Thunderdome that is the Noodles watery play pen.

The bath. Read more »

Harvey Pekar died.

Check out his obit at the washpost here.

Harvey was a blogger. He was a blogger before there was a web. He just did it in comic form. Or essay form.

I think this bit of the obit sums it up best.

The largely autobiographical comic series portrayed Mr. Pekar -- inevitably dressed in a flannel shirt and corduroy pants -- as a rumpled, depressed filing clerk in a Veterans Administration hospital. He filled the stories with wry observations about his frustrations with work and human relationships and what Mr. Pekar called "the 99 percent of life that nobody ever writes about." Read more »

At last my odyssey is over. I can proudly play the arse trumpet and only expect ringing loud noises from my brassy arse-bell instead of a squelch meets a warm brownish near-liquid.

There were, however, a couple of false starts.

I'd say the eye of this storm happened late Saturday morning when I crawled into the big-bed, assuring the other occupant the worst was over, and planning on catching up on sleep. Within 30 seconds of inhabitation the worst event of all occurred. So bad in fact theWife had to feed me a plastic bag through the crack of the toilet door so I could dispose of the affected clothing for good after ensuring safe removal ala level one decontamination procedures.

There was no way those boys were making it back on the rotation team.

But I've successfully vuvuzel'ed a few times tonight without the viscous "after-taste" and I can now declare this case-closed. Read more »

Chiropractors encounter a fair amount of whiffery in their work. Either passive such as bad breath from a punter - I always brush my teeth before I go if I have the opportunity - or body odor, or active because of their manipulation. When you're bending people back and forth it tends to have a bellows effect on the old innards.

So there's this manuever where they drop you on your side and push one of your legs up. They then knee down on your thigh.

Yeah.

Currently I'm still suffering the sharts.

So when that was done that caused movement at the station ... and I did a dot of a shart.

I had to pause the treatment to dash to the loo. By dash I mean the butt clench hold it in fast waddle.

Luckily I made it.

WHHHHOOOOSSSSSSHHHHH Read more »

I have a sketchy back. Now and then I get a twinge that hurts for days. Or, if I am really unlucky, I get severe strain that can drop me to the floor.

I am a large man in the weight sense. Short in the height sense. My weight hangs like a captured belly balloon. Hence why I get occasional back flair ups.

Today, whilst at the urinal, I turned. My back had been twinging for days. It super-twinged and took my breath away. I went back to me desk, munged pain pills, and got everything I needed to be done before I took my wounded bod off to the Chiro.

I hadn't seen him for nearly eight months. He gave me a spinal adjustment.

He is also a giant. I think at least six foot six. He's one of the few in town that well do the over-the back lift foot dangle.

Before we started he said this. Read more »

I am a paid up member of the ALP and a unionist. You can see it above.

It doesn't mean I agree with all that the ALP does or unions do. However I feel it is better to be in than be out and bitching.

Represent, y'all.

So ... am I happy with the new "correction" to the policies regarding boat people - assuming they're implemented.

No, I'm not. We take less than 14k refugees a year. We take I think around 300,000 migrants in total annually - though I believe that includes temp residency.

Refugees are a response, by and large, to crisis in a homeland. Be it war, resource access, persecution, and other conditions that drive people to pick up and leave.

We should take more and do our bit to help. Read more »

Palin is still criss-crossing the red states of the US of A, raising wads of phat cash for her and her innumerate brood - reminding me a bit of the Alien Queen from Aliens.

Palin is running for the 2012 Republican nomination. She's locked in a Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket of Repub media exposure in getting a "commentary" slot on Fox, has a top selling autobiography out, and is continuing to expound on her "world view" via the excellent informative mediums of Twitter and facebook.

Check out her latest Foreign Policy musings here.

I don't know where to begin. But he's some doozies.

"Did you know the US actually only ranks 25th worldwide on defense spending as a percentage of GDP? We spend three times more on entitlements and debt services than we do on defense." Read more »

At my org we occasionally get broadcast emails to all members of our office building, or corro from head honchos explaining the latest re-org and so forth.

They're mildly irritating.

For building wide ones it's usually reminders that the emergency system is being tested or "attention YCR-567 your lights are on."

Sometimes some fuckwit "replies all" moaning about why he's getting these messages. Seriously. Complains to everyone who got a broadcast email about getting a broadcast email.

Today I heard of a classic attention everyone email.

It was reporting a lost and found from the ladies toilets.

And found in the ladies was ... a coin purse.

Tee hee. Coin purse. Read more »

I don't watch Master Chef. Indeed I try and avoid most "reality" TV where possible - which as irony would have it - is rarely real.

If you don't watch Master Chef then you may be unaware that Coles is the prime sponsor and ads and product placement for the ubermench of Supermarkets Oz style litter the program like spilled salt.

Coles have even gone so far as to have some of their staff at the checkouts wearing the official aprons.

Here's an image I found on the web (so not mine). Read more »

Why do Scotsman wear kilts? Because their balls are too big for their pants.

When I was a kid I loved war. It was fantastic. I had a folder of magazine cuttings of guns and other military tat - mostly taken from my parents' National Geographic. My fave toy was a piece of wood my dad jig-sawed into a gun shape then painted black. I even had a mini NATO style uniform.

While theWife was away I got to load up on lad DVDs she wouldn't watch in a pink fit. She doesn't like war themed stuff - she cried during the D-Day landing scenes of Saving Private Ryan.

I decided to mass-watch Band of Brothers, having missed it when it was screened free to air. Read more »

I got invited to a formal dinner that would have been attended by very senior work types as well as the odd sprinkle of pollies. Frankly it was a pity invite - though I appreciated it - and likely only because I am the group's point person in my government organ for reports.

It was a dinner suit required formal wear event.

I don't have one. I have a normal suit I've worn a half dozen times - and I took that to work, draped over the back seat of the car, fully intending on donning it and attending. Though I was nervous I would be singled out - Happy Feet style - because of my tan appearance amongst a sea of black.

But I didn't feel great and formal dinners where I get seated next to people I don't know tend to freak me out.

So I bailed. I sent my boss+++ an email and asked him to give my apologies.

I said I'd be his wingman at a future event. Read more »

Well JG is our new PM.

Long may she reign. Of course I say that as a paid up member of the ALP. I think we would have won with Rudd - and I was proud to be in a party with him at the head - a man unburdened by factional crap to get there, and from all accounts an intelligent leader. Save perhaps for a tendency to micromanage in person or by adviser proxy. But the Rubicon has been crossed by a ruby headed lass and therefore the die is cast. Let's see how it goes.

When ex-Princess Di was killed in a car accident, I phoned a friend about it. When she answered I shouted 'Di and Dodi dead; driver drunk' in my best Fleet street headline impression.

Well I'm an older man now. Dare I say more respectful, more understanding of people's distress.

But I will say this.

Rudd Ranga-Rolled. Read more »

I've been a bit slack with keeping up with people's blogs of late. Hell, not updating this as often as I used to. But I am resolved to be better about being a proper blogger and not only produce rarely read content but actually enjoy - and I do - the produce of my fellow bloggers. Who are still sticking to the blog medium despite blogging being the social networking medium equivalent of using a Commodore 64.

Anyway, I had a look at Pat's blog tonight. His last post was Feb this year. He had a delish looking meal advertised on his last post.

I commented.

Pat has word verification on his blog.

Tonight, the word in question was ... tatlybe

I declare that to be the best word veri ever.

My work is big on over-sized cards and a nice gift to people who've done their time at the galley-benches (workstations). That's kewl. A workplace is good where people give a shit enough to organise activities, cards, gifts, and all that other stuff. It makes it a better place to be.

The trouble is, as wordy a man as I am, I struggle with what to say. Sometimes I draw a cartoon of myself and say something midly normal like 'stay golden'. Lately I've been simply saying something about their name.

On one card I wrote If your name was a palindrome it would be (reversed name).

Nice and anti-factual, as a palindrome is a word that reads the same forwards and backwards and his name did not have that functionality.

Recently we had a Mark leave. I wrote this. Read more »

I am in bed blogging from my laptop. This may not seem a big deal to you kids and your music but when I was a lad of about 10 my computer - which I had to share - was an apple IIe. It had like 64k of RAM.

Now, some 25 years later. I am using a PC that is probably equal to the world's entire computing power in the early 60s and wirelessly hooked into the interweb.

It's just fucking amazing. I sure as hell do not take this forgranted.

I love being able to watch docos or surf media sites then go on a nerdy info adventure through wiki to know more about peeps I am encountering in my travels. It's just so fucking amazing. Seriously amazing that I can do this.

If I had a lighter I'd be holding it up rocking concert out style for the combo that is affordable computing plus wireless reasonable speed internet. It's just terrific. Yay for the internet!

PS the other night I got to play Xbox rockstar on drums. When air rocking I have always defaulted to drums. Turns out I suck on drums but ... after a while I semi got the hang of it. Yay me! Yay Xbox! Read more »

The other night I was back at work trying to send a fax. Trying being the operative word.

There are two fax machines – and both are shit.

The reason they’re shit is that when you try and send more than one page the feeder mechanism decides that all the pages in the hopper are a single page. It grabs them all, chews them into its maw, then crunches and then soft fuck-up bleep punctures the stilled air with its R2D2-esq fuck-you.

So there was that. After the third attempt on machine number one, I went to machine number two.

It was out of toner.

There’s an old trick us white collar types use to temp fix this toner issue and that’s to take out the cartridge and shake it all about. This somehow gets enough of the ink dust to the right places within to at least eek out a couple more pages of printing.

So I did that. Read more »

I bragged to S that I had the number one google ranking for Pants Osmosis Window.

Needless to say I was very proud.

And what did S do?

He created this for me.

I rule. Read more »

I love my showers. Love them. I could stand under a hot shower – where the climate allows – for hours if I could. As I child I was routinely scolded for excessive water consumption, mainly because I would rest my bulbous head against the tiles and enter a sort of warm waterfall lubed up meditative trance.

We’ve been lucky in that in all our houses we’ve had in the decade plus time we’ve been in the nation’s capital that the showers have been good ones. Good pressure, reasonable size. Hell, in one house it was large enough for both of us to get into.

Rwoooor.

However what I really want to do in the shower is sit down. Because after a while of standing, bearing my large frame against gravity, I feel the need to sit. But use of a chair in a shower is problematic given the effect water has on furniture. Read more »

Now I don't usually give a shout out to 'the man' and evil tentacle corporations, but this was a kewl ad. It came out when I was in first year uni.

I even had the poster on my wall.

To think this is now 18 years old. They could run it again today and it would still work as an awesome ad. Read more »

Today I had another Pants Osmosis Window experience.

I'd covertly let fly in the gathering place before the lifts, making sure to open arse near the open stairwell . But the lift was speeding my way too quickly for comfort, and there was someone waiting for it in addition to me. Seeing the numbers above the doors racing up the charts I kind of waggled my arse around in an effort to shift the butt gas and promote its more rapid passage through the tight weave of my pants.

Alas I was not fully successful. There was a definite aerated fecal tinge in the air as we travelled downward.

I should have done a Peter Griffin and pointed at the other guy and said 'it was you...'

My awesome boss sits over the cubicle wall from me. Which means if we have a conversation it needs a loudness boost in order I be heard.

Today we discussed a report contribution that was simply awful and largely unreadable. My boss didn't want it included.

I agreed with her.

'We should bury it like a turd at a campsite,' I semi-yelled at the partition.

There was an uncomfortable post "comment that was wrong, wrong, wrong" silence. Only to be punctured by Area boss accentuating my embarrassment by laughing her arse off. Read more »

TheNoo was having his bath, which I normally oversight. Due to a toilet need theWife sat on the little red chair by the side of the bath for me.

Job done, I entered the room.

'Daddy!' cried theNoo.

He turned to look at theWife sitting on the chair.

'Mum,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Get off'.

Pwned.