Anthony Malloy

I learnt two things last night from Rae as she slept, and this knowledge is perhaps best passed on by reproducing the discussions.

1 – Monkeys Drive Taxis.

R : “Pay the taxi driver.”
A : “Sorry Hon?”
R : “Pay the taxi driver, pay the monkey.”

Apparently beach side resorts now employ monkeys to drive taxis. You have been warned.

2 – Witches Like Football

R : “Get the chairs off the roof.”
A : “Why?”
R : ” The football. So we can watch the football on the television.”
A : “Okay, I’ve got the chairs off the roof.”
R : “Good, ’cause the witches are here.”
A : “Why do the witches want to watch the football?”
R : “Because they have broomsticks.”

So, witches like watching football because they have broomsticks. You have been warned.

I’ve found a new dastardly enemy.

Slevian.

It seems that we are both trying to build up our collection of Alfred Hitchcock and The Three Investigator books via ebay. We’re in a bidding war for a couple (and it seems Slevian has been at this for a while by the look of his/her bidding history). Well Slevian, if indeed that is your real name, I hope you realise who you’re dealing with.

Stand back people, this could get messy.

It seems our little kitty has come of age. The last few days there has been a gentleman caller walking up to, around and even over our little house inviting Miss Belter out for a few drinks, or a night on the town, or some such. She didn’t seem to be responding; until today. Suddenly she’s very anxious to get out of the house, is very affectionate and is rubbing against everything. All that and her constant mewing must be able to be heard half way round the world.

Well Miss Belter, to protect your virtue you’ve a visit to the vet tomorrow morning. Goodbye gentleman caller, goodbye mewing, goodbye several hundred dollars, hello content kitty and responsible parents.

No matter how crap a day at work is (and today is pretty high on my ol’ crapometer) the sight of a young kid running down a corridor wearing a Tiger’s jumper will always make me smile.

No, hockey season hasn’t started early. It was announced overnight that Vancouver will host the Winter 2010 Olympic Games. Congratulations Vancouver, wish I could be there for the hockey gold medal game. Who am I kidding? I’d even settle for the first round figure skating.

Almost as, excuse my while I yawn, impressive as Melbourne, yawn, getting the 2006 Commonwealth Games. (Who did that site? Look at the unreadable colour combination!) Yawn.

Okay, war has been declared. The Car Boy is ignoring written requests from the landlord now so it’s time to get petty. If they want to treat us as ‘just renters’ then we shall act as ‘just renters’ and resort to using the ultimate Weapon Of Mass Pettiness – the garbage bin.

The bin is out on the nature strip (grass verge for our English reader) and there it shall stay until at least Saturday. Next week it stays until Sunday, and so on. The beauty of this absolutely ineffectual means of protest is that it only aggravates the front neighbour and leaves Marion, the back neighbour, untroubled. We’re not leaving the recycling bin out ’cause people nick those.

We’re open to suggestions of other petty lows to which we can stoop, you can see the comments link below so feel free to use it.

Sheesh, I can’t give money away. I called the Tax Department today to ask why I hadn’t received an activity statement and to arrange paying the amount outstanding. The lovely ‘agent’ (I wonder if they get cool badges to wear around the office) told me I don’t owe any tax money at all.

“But I have this letter.” I say.

“No sir, you have no outstanding payments. The computer says so.”

Amazing, but who am I to argue with a computer? The world is odd when you want to give the government money and they don’t want to take it.

When I lived with Andrea in Kew there were two bad things about an otherwise lovely place. There was a neighbour called Marion who got on our goat (she was large, goat was small, no one was happy) and we had inconsiderate neighbours that started their hotted up car outside our window at ungodly hours.

Now life, as it does, has moved on and Rae and I are happily ensconced in Newport. We love our place except for two things. A neighbour called Marion and an inconsiderate neighbour who starts his hotted up car outside our window at ungodly hours. (See here and here)

We were lucky enough to have a chat with our land lord at the weekend when she was back home for her annual visit. She offered us the place for as long as we wanted it (she’s planning on living oversees for many years yet). We told her how much we would like to stay except for the major problem of being woken at 5.30 every weekday morning. She said she would have a chat to Mr-I’m-18-and-can-be-as-inconsiderate-as-I-like.

This morning we got to see how much respects he has for her. Not one, but two cars were started at 5.15 am. A letter has been written (tune in tonight if you want to read a copy). Action will be taken.

We’ll probably have to move but will make sure each prospective tenant is told what time they will be woken.

Paper Bent has made some wonderful words to go with an old picture of mine. Ailina, thankyou, it’s an honour humbly accepted.