Anthony Malloy

Number one in a possible series of four, here’s my latest Canucks jersey, their special retro jersey from this season, direct from Canada. I’ve also got their home, away and alternate jerseys.

I think I may need help.

Today was the annual Tiger’s family day at Punt Rd. Us and a few thousand other Tiger fans turned up to see the jumper presentation, meet the players, get faces painted, part with some cash for the cause and have a kick on the hallowed turf of Tigerland.

While waiting in line I noticed a guy in, of all things, a Collingwood jacket (Collingwood being one of the Tiges arch enemies for those not in the AFL know). I thought he was either very crazy or very brave wandering in the Tiger’s den until I saw why; his young son was a Tiger fan waiting in line too, a badge of his favourite player and a five dollar note clutched in his hand. “How odd,” I thought, “a Collingwood dad and a Tiger son.”

Then I paused.

I’m the Tiger son of a Collingwood dad with my own Doggie daughter.

I love footy.

Go the Tiges.

Why is it that you can spend 15 minutes talking until you are blue in the face trying to teach your little girl how to hit a shuttlecock properly and she fails every time yet the minute she gets within one metre of the carport roof she executes a perfect serve that results in the dull thud of the shuttlecock hitting the tin dead in the middle?

It’s Phee’s birthday tomorrow and I’m not coping that well. She’s turning 8, and had been so excited that her birthday is coming up. She’s stopped being excited now though because of us, Rae and I, and it’s hard to take.

We’ve cancelled her birthday party this year because of her atrocious behaviour, and I mean atrocious. Two weeks ago it seemed like a good idea but now, with her birthday tomorrow, we feel terrible. There’ll be no kids running around, no extra presents. Just a flat Saturday afternoon and, knowing Phee, nothing will be learnt.

It’s tough at the moment. Phee is 8 going on 15. Everything is an argument, she knows better than us with everything, doesn’t do things we ask “because I didn’t want to”, she answers back to us and her grandparents, expects everything and will do nothing. I know she’s only 8 but there is absolutely no concept of respect. It’s not fair on Phee that she’s not having an 8th birthday party, but it’s nor fair on Rae that she comes home in tears because she can’t cope with Phee being smart and feeling like she has failed in her role as a mother when it comes to bringing Phee up ‘properly’. The other night Phee laughed when I was telling her how disappointed I was after she had yelled at her mum (again) but she then burst in to tears when I told her her punishment was the cat couldn’t sleep in her room that night.

I’m rambling now, I know, but we are at a dead end. Nothing seems to be working, we’re feeling bad for what we feel we have to do and we can’t see an end in sight.

So think of Phee tomorrow with no party and think of us feeling the pain of on 8 year old girl who probably doesn’t understand why.

We had our tenancy tribunal hearing today and it was a resounding win to the good guys. I want to say ‘stunning victory’ but that’s just the tabloid inside me talking. Initially Evil Agent tried to get $997 off us to replace the carpet, that gambit failed. Then they tried for $290 – which is what we went to the tribunal for today.

First up was the issue of a damaged garage door, EA claimed we damaged it and they wanted $170 for repairs. Well, Judge Judy started asking questions and we responded that we didn’t put anything on the condition report because the garage wasn’t part of the rental agreement. This had her snapping at EA in seconds; as it wasn’t part of the agreement it wasn’t in her jurisdiction to hear the complaint. EA tried to claim it was connected to the house so it should be covered. Judge Judy was having none of it and point blank asked her “was the garage part of the rental agreement?”. “Ah, no” was EA’s meek response. “Well I’m not hearing it.” and that was that.

Next was a front door that needed repainting. EA actually fibbed in the tribunal and said it had been freshly painted before we moved in (it hadn’t, we moved in the day after the previous tenant moved out, they didn’t even have time to steam clean the carpets). Judge Judy asked us what we had to say. We said we didn’t damage the door but if she was to find it did need repainting then we wanted the amount depreciated. “That’s fair.” said Judge Judy and awarded EA $95 instead of the $120 requested.

So out of a possible $290 up for grabs today we scored about $200. EA ended up with less than 10% of their first claim and it will have cost the land lord more in application and representation fees than she will end up getting from us.

We come away with moral and financial victories and a new found sense of confidence that the justice system works when your honest and stand up for yourself.

Our landlord came away with a bill not covered by her ‘win’ today.

Life, for this sunny afternoon, is good.

(and a huge thanks to Marita and Daniel for their show of support, it was most comforting knowing you were there on our side, and to Knack, Rob and Zita for their stat decs)
Continue reading “Evil Agents 0, Lovely Tenants 1”

I’ve stopped sleeping again, rejoined the land of the zombies for a while and it’s all because of the same reason I didn’t sleep for 9 of the last 10 months. The old house is haunting us still.

Tomorrow we go to the tribunal to have our case heard. We think we’re in with a 50/50 chance of getting one spurious claim against us either reduced or kicked out, the other is just too tricky to defend (which may be why they chose it) but with a little, no, lot of, luck that too maybe reduced.

It’s the unknown that has me lying in bed, tossing, turning and running facts through my head over and over. I have no idea what the process of a hearing is and that’s what keeps me awake. Today I’m going to call our current agent and ask her what goes on; she loves us so I hope she can help.

Now I’ve got to drag myself off to the shower and then somehow get through a days work. Tomorrow night though I plan on sleeping. A lot.

Daniel, you have officially earned a BYO exemption to our next party/dinner/whatever.

You see, Daniel always brings drinks, many drinks and it seems that we never actually drink them. We have a whole separate cupboard devoted to Drinks Daniel Donated (we call it the Triple D’er). Either we supply all the drinks for your next do Daniel or you get an exemption.

And thankyou, yes, we had a lovely afternoon warming our house. Now I’m just going to finish that six pack Daniel left in the ice.

Gary and Renee left Vinegar Strokes two weeks ago, selling it so they could follow their dream of opening Lady Bay Retreat, a Bed and Breakfast in Warrnambool.

What had been Vinegar reopened today as ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’. It’s no longer a great casual place to go and spend a while lounging around. They’ve jazzed it up, put in more tables, got rid of the big couch area in the window, there’s jazz music instead of Gary’s eclectic mix of cool tunes and anything that once gave it personality has now gone. We’ll still go there for coffee every now and then but we’re in search of a new lounge room.

Vale Vinegar, you will be missed.

I’m speechless, shocked, disappointed.

My brother in law, Dale, has turned his back on all that is good and right with the world and chosen to take a path only the most desperate, depraved and simple among us could wish to travel.

Dale, a Tiger supporter, has just accepted the job of being the face of the North Melbourne Kangaroos football club for their advertising campaign this year. At least his son is young enough not to fully comprehend this treasonous act.

One less brother in law, one less present to buy.

Rob, aka Cat Boy, is ill. Even though we are yet to meet thoughts are with you Rob.