Tuesday, March 29, 2005


What I Did On My Easter Holiday

by Blandwagon

- Church, church and more church. You'd think I was running for Pope or something. Although given that I'm a Presbyterian, it wouldn't be the Pope, but the Protestant equivalent. John Piper, possibly.

- I went to McLernan's on Welshpool Road. McLernan's is a second-hand shop fittings dealer, and has several warehouses containing old office chairs, filing cabinets, reception desks, mannequins, computers, refrigerated cabinets and huge, baffling constructions of plywood and plastic that probably made more sense when they sat in the middle of a department store displaying sunglasses or Playstations or whatever. I bought an illuminated sign for $80. It's about a metre and a half long and has PAY HERE written on it in large red capitals. I've turned it on one end and put it in my living room, where it has a nifty pop art quality.

You see, it's not a piece of old junk. It's an installation. Although when it's lit up all red and white in the darkened room, it does rather look like a Coke machine.

- I made tiramisu. Hmmmm... coffeelicious.

- I cleaned my car inside and out, and helped my friend AB and his cousin do the same with their cars. AB has certain tidiness issues, and his car (a badly mistreated Russian hatchback that was never much good to begin with) needed a lot of attention. It was hard work. AB did all the actual cleaning, but I was the one who had to stand over him, crushing his fantasies that Woolworths junk mail soaked in old coolant fluid might be recyclable, listening to the tortured logic that claimed that an empty video cassette box or a broken clutch cable might have any sort of conceivable value to anyone, and constructing water-tight cases such as how the door seal from a completely different car didn't need to be stored in the backseat of this one (admittedly, all that water-tight case consisted of was a raised eyebrow and a few moments for him to consider what he'd just said).

Next I need to get him to deal with his living room, which will require a rubbish skip, an industrial vacuum cleaner, earth-moving equipment and a Catholic priest with a good supply of holy water.

- I got stung by a wasp in the garden department at Bunnings. I felt something tickle at my neck, I brushed it away, and suddenly BAMMO! It hurt like hell.

My brain 1: Oh man, I think I was just stung by a bee or something!

My brain 2: Ow. Yes, feels like it.

My brain 1: Wait, aren't lots of people allergic to bee stings? What if I'm allergic to bee stings! I could puff up and die at Bunnings! I don't want to die at Bunnings! It'd be embarrassing!

My brain 2: (patiently) You've been stung by bees before, when you were a kid, and you were fine. Stop being such a big pussy.

My brain 1: But... but... maybe I've become allergic since then...

My brain 2: (rather less patiently) No you haven't. Be a man for once in your life and go and look at wood veneers.

So I did. The pain subsided after five minutes, and the swelling went down after a few hours. And the wood veneers were pathetic. Stupid brain.


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