Anthony Malloy

How could you not click on this link from today’s news.com.au?

Pantless Saddam’s cage rage

Ah, sweet freedom. This afternoon I pulled up at home to find my family sitting in the backyard under the trees. Lovely. I joined them straight away and did stuff I’ve been wanting to do for years – listened to the end of the hockey, emailed a mate at work and checked the temperature. Yes, thanks to years of accumulating small amounts in my salary packaging I have a brand spanking new lap top complete with built in wireless. All I had to do was add a wireless router and a Crumpler bag.

The last post and this one have both been written from the comfort of an arm chair in the lounge room. I haven’t actually surfed from bed yet – but I’ve checked and it will definitely be possible when the need arises. For now I’ll just be happy to be in the same room as my love re-watching Veronica Mars and working at the same time.

UPDATED

Please note – WHAT”S WRITTEN BELOW NO LONGER APPLIES! I AM HAPPY TO REPORT THAT LEO AND THE ORIGINAL TEAM ARE NOW BACK AND CUT PAW PAW IS BACK TO WHAT IT WAS.

I’m going to leave this post here because it’s a good lesson in what not to do to a café when you take it over but, I say again, IT NO LONGER APPLIES.

END OF UPDATE

It’s always a shame when one of your favourite places loses the plot and sadly that’s what has happened with Cut Paw Paw in Yarraville.

Cut Paw Paw was never at the cutting edge of cool, but it was a friendly place with great staff who knew you and always made a good coffee. All this began to go down hill a few months ago when one of the owners left and, I think, the other cut back his involvement. My regular weekend gal, the wonderful Tracey, who was only young yet seemed to know more about running a cafe than many owners two or three times her age, has finished secondary school and disappeared too.

I had to run in to Yarraville this morning to take some photos so I thought I’d pick up a couple of coffees to take home. I walked through the door to be assaulted by Eminem (I can’t believe I had to ask Rae how to spell that! How old am I?) at full volume. The, yet another, new face was hunched over the counter reading the paper and only looked up when I was standing right in front of her. The cafe was empty at 8:30, in ‘the good ole days’ it would have been half full by this time. I ordered two lattes and it was all I could do not to yell out ‘Stop’ or leap over the counter and take over as she scalded the milk and then tried to create some froth. The coffee that went in to the cups was weak with no crema. As Mr M blared about his bitches she poured the burnt milk onto the coffee and scooped out two scummy pieces of ‘froth’ to make it a latte.

I was torn as to whether to say something or not. Why would you leave someone in charge of your coffee machine who obviously has no idea on how to make coffee? It’s a cafe – coffee is one of your main products. Would you put someone who doesn’t know how to cook in charge of your kitchen? Why would you let your late teens staff play their choice of music at when your customers are predominantly 30-50 and at a volume you couldn’t talk over? Why, if you’re running this place, would you leave a teenager in charge on one of your most important trading days?

If I had have seen the guy who I think is in charge now I would have had a chat to him. As it is I took the dross she served, paid my $5 and walked out the door for what is most likely the last time.

UPDATED

Please note – WHAT”S WRITTEN ABOVE NO LONGER APPLIES! I AM HAPPY TO REPORT THAT LEO AND THE ORIGINAL TEAM ARE NOW BACK AND CUT PAW PAW IS BACK TO WHAT IT WAS

I’m going to leave this post here because it’s a good lesson in what not to do to a café when you take it over but, I say again, IT NO LONGER APPLIES.

END OF UPDATE

Wow, two good mail days in a row – this must be a record. Today my collectors edition box set of Dr Who turned up at the PO Box – even though Amazon UK are telling me they are just about to ship it and I should expect it by Christmas eve.

Tomorrow I just know it’s going to be all bills.

Don’t you love it when you have a good mail day?

Today in the post I received my student ID card, a cheque, a voucher and a DVD with two Canucks games on it. Combine that with a great flood of good catalogues and I’m in post box heaven.

Aussie readers, do yourself a favour. Ignore the promos that the idiots at Channel 10 have put together (did anyone there actually watch the show?) and start watching Veronica Mars tonight (Channel 10, 7:30). You can thank me after the final episode.

We’re over the moon – Steve just called to let us know that he and Veronica have had their baby. They were just here for dinner on Tuesday night so we got to see them before they are permanently exhausted. Mum had a tough time but is doing well, baby is fine and Dad is over the moon.

Well done to both of you and welcome to the world Jonathan Kevin Wills, even though they are Carlton supporters you couldn’t ask for better parents.

Oh man. Here I am, typing from home as I’m going in to work late today ’cause I’m working back late tonight. At least I was going in to work until I made the mistake of going outside just now.

Will someone call work please and let them know I’ll be in again when winter rolls around.

Bruce Springsteen must die, but only so he can spin in his grave.

Yesterday Rae was giving Bert his bottle and for a bit of noise she had some music video show on. I walked in to see Australian-Idol-Not-Quite-A-Winner Shannon Noll’s latest clip. Fair enough, he’s performing live on stage. Instantly forgettable song…hang on one goddam minute!

Yes. There she is. An adoring fan up the front of the stage (who, by the way, had just snuck in to the concert without paying – I wonder if she downloads illegal copies of Shannon’s MP3s too?). What’s that? Shannon reaches down and pulls her up on stage. She’s shocked and can’t believe her luck as she starts dancing with her ‘idol’. Dear god woman, you aren’t Courtney Cox and he isn’t even remotely The Boss. What a crime that most kids watching won’t even realise what a second rate knock off this piece of dross is.

Shame Shannon, shame. You, sir, are no Bruce Springsteen and shouldn’t even pretend to be.

Please, Rae and I are struggling.

Help us with a big problem.