The circus is in town and I got excited at sharing the experience with theboy.But, remembering Floriade and what happened there, it was decided best not given the noise and type of noise a circus produces. More than once an outing has been spoiled by my having an attack and being driven home early.My injury banned me from the circus.
Articles from Harrangue Man
Unlike Donald Trump our household wall-based needs are relatively easy and without moral cost—but still beyond my physicality to achieve.thewife on the other hand is a manual dexterity wunderkind and can assemble shit and make her own as well. So it came to be that the unsightly, unsafe array of old doors and bamboo fencing that separated the garden-killing chickens from the garden came down and a fancy fence—with chicken wire used to fence in wiry chickens—came up in its place.She knocked it
Emails all have to start somewhere and always they start with a word. True, you could start an email with a picture but the picture would appear in the body of the email—there's words that come before that.I'm talking subject line, y'all.Alas my Outlook does not give me spell-check courtesy on words in the subject line—it's not designed for it. So that's how it came to pass that in the beginning—the first word in that subject line—I spelled that word incorrectly.It was a fucking important wor
I was struck by severe IBS and gas pain from early Saturday morning and it didn't leave until late Monday night. The gas I expelled was foul, wretchedly so, and I whimpered in clouds of my own smell. I had pain meds, charcoal and hot water bottle on a warm day with the air con on to help manage the extreme discomfort of bloating and the unpleasant sensations blaring from my abdominal surgery scar—a fat, old school pre-keyhole kind—and beneath it.
"Get up offa that thing" by James Brown.UPDATE: I was sprung singing it to the cold water tap in the communal kitchenette.
I rolled into a role and the first thing needed was training; a fuck-ton—at least six training packages needed done in three days.Naturally my low echelon super competency restored on contact and I knocked all of that training out by mid-afternoon, did a edit sweep of a plan, reported a broken lift car and emailed a stranger with a solution to a problem they didn’t know they had—and they said thanks for the fix.It feels amazing to be back on the horse and going full gallop.
Ahead of returning to normal life I had to shed my potty mouth and I’ve been editing as I swear to make it safe for others. I was at the start of a massive “FOR FUCK’S SAKE” when the editing kicked in and the “FUCK’S SAKE” became, and I shit you not, “FLIBBERTY GIBBETS”.Flibberty gibbets. Gibbets is a word; flibberty is not. For fuck’s sake.
I had a habit of nick-naming my clothes or that worn by others.
I had to get my hair and beard hacked back ahead of face-to-face activity and just as I closed on Just Cuts a toddler was screaming as their hair was cut.I stopped, turned, and walked quickly five metres away then tested if I could hear the crying.
It's happened a couple of times with the new bike, and it happened sometimes with the old, that the hem of my right ladies PJ pants leg will catch in where the pedal strut meets bike and I will ride my pants into the machine. It usually takes three revolutions to realise it's happening and stop and in those three cycles you've ridden more of your pants into it.To ride your pants back out you just go in reverse and then the hem is freed.