2004-08-18 - 12:35 p.m.
So, after some clever manipulation of my slowly accrueing vacation time, I had Friday and Monday and Tuesday off in order to complete various missions that seem to have become impossible to attend to during weekends. Partying and Socialising and general laziness being what they are and all that.
Friday.
I got up and rested, went back to bed for half an hour, eased into the day with an air of contempt for the planet not bothering to stop rotating for me while I am discluding myself from the worlds churning. Went out the front door and surfeyed my days project. GET RID OF THAT HIDEOUS FENCE. A fence that looks as though it was salvaged from some overly used bomb testing village in area 51. Im sure it would make a geiger counter click madly. I got down to just the poles left fairly quickly. My nimble wire cutter skills making short work of the links. So I begin to dig out the first pole. I dig, I dig and I dig till Im about 2.5 feet down. NO BUDGING. Clearly they used a 4 foot hole and filled it with concrete. So I am digging now with my hands as the hole is too deep for my spade. I dislodged a large rock on the side of the hole and thought nothing of it. That was until my head and shoulders where in the hole and I was scooping more dirt and the 2 inch KILLER CICADA WASP come out of his little house that used to be where the rock was. Imagine our hero suddenly face to face with this disturbed beast, flapping about manically in the hole my head was also in. I very nearly recoiled into the middle of the street. Lucky no one was walking by as I would have totally taken them out in a mass of flailing limbs and curse words. The job got easier after that. The whole thing took about 4 hours. Im so happy. The house looks so much better, bigger and newer. The old fence was bent and rusty and CRAP.
Did nothing all weekend except meet a friend from Australia whose staying with us. We kicked off the usual Australian passtime of DRINKING SHITLOADS. Just less than half a 1.75liter bottle of Jack Daniels between 2 of us.
MONDAY. I started the scary and daunting task of wiring up outlets for the studio in the basement and creating a new spot in the breaker box for a 20 amp fuse to supply the power to it. Now my studio is on its own dedicated juice, NO MORE FUSE BLOWOUTS WHEN THE DRYERS ON. Delicious took our mate into the big city and they returned in time for more DRINKING SHITLOADS.
TUESDAY. I did the same electrical thing for the workshop area, its own dedicated line that also powers the porch rope lights and the store room light. I used BX, its this cable that has a steel wound sheath over it that looks very hardcore and exciting. Well, Hardcore and exciting if you're interested in doing any wiring and stuff. Probably not huh. Its alot harder to install as you have to bend the crap out of it for turns and stuff. Its WAY safer, all grounded and happy every inch of the way. What else? oh yeah, DRANK SHITLOADS. We killed the jack and started deminishing my bushmills and my Cragganmore whisky.
I freaked out on Monday as my harddrive in the G4, the one that has all my recorded audio of the last 4 years on it... CRASHED!!! Misery thy name is the clicking sound it made trying to start up. I tell ya. For a short period I was dismayed considerably. Then on tuesday it miraculously and mysteriously started working again. It took my 4 hours to back up the 3 gigs of shit that was on it. Just incase. PHEW!!
Delicious just smothered me in Love for the whole time and made me float around the place in my usual blissful happiness. She is just GREAT. We were trying to convince her to get in on the whole DRINKING SHITLOADS action but it just don't happen. She is lucky enough to be able to acheive a buzz from a mere kiss from me when Im drinking. (thats virtually ALWAYS)
I am sowing the seeds of repression for the stuff though. Its been many years of abuse and Im starting to get bored with it really. I seem to have this ability to DRINK SHITLOADS and not really get too drunk! That sounds great in theory but in practice it means I unnecessarily abuse my liver. There is no answer. I try to drink less by (bare with me) getting on the tequila straight away, four or five shots usually do the trick then I chill with the beers and socialize. Cast your mind to a bustling Hoboken Bar, in walks our hero, partially headphoned, I order 3 tequilas in 1 glass and a beer, say hello to the kids and sink it. Then continue, serenely to amuse and bemuse with my oddly acented, often interrupted prose. Although I get massive street cred amongst the alco's for downing such bevvies, it not only generally fails to get me any drunker, its expensive and medically unsound.
Something needs to change.
the only really difference that anyone has been able to tell as a benchmark for my drunkness is my failing pool skills. I definately get worse at pool the more I drink. Thats about it though. Well, and the smell I guess.
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