Monthly Archives: March 2012

Hello 3% raise… woohoo! I’m not sure myself if that’s sarcasm or not

Yes, you saw that right a 3% raise.

But it’s not only me, it’s a government thing. Most government employees are given this raise every year to keep in line with the Consumer Price Index (The Consumer Price Index (CPI) is a measure of changes, over time, in retail prices of a constant basket of goods and services representative of consumption expenditure by resident households in Australian metropolitan areas.)

But the one good thing about this raise is that, it is going to be backdated. Over a 7 month period. That’s 14 payslips. Then the owing amounts is to be provided in a lump sum. Suffice to say it’s turned out to be a fair bit of dosh. My next paycheque will be a total of 150% of my normal gross total. But that of course dumps me into the next tax bracket, so my net pay is actually only going to be 133% of what it would normally be, go figure.

But still that’s an extra 33% on top of my normal income coming in this pay. An extra $650. Dear god, what I could do with that money… *drools and dreams of a walrus singing of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings*

But no.

I aim to be sensible.

I plan to plug at least $400 of that extra $650 into debt. And then take the $200 as splurge money. I may join a gym again. I may buy a game. I may only blow $50 and put the remainder into debt. Whatever. Mainly I can do what I want with it.


I wrote the previous paragraphs, a day before payday.

Now that I have the money, I’ve decided on what I’m splurging on.


I’m getting a guitar.

Yup, you heard that right. I will now begin to mangle my music with my hamfisted, sausage fingered, tin eared self.

So not ONLY will you be subjected to my dating mishaps, my budget failures, my  impersonations of Jabba the Hutt with my stomach, my general facepalm moments in life… now you will also be treated to my awesomely disastrous attempts in learning how to play a guitar.

Cover your ears, lock up your children, hide your alcohol and tighten those chastity belts.

Captain Sweatpants is discovering his inner musician. 😀


Hello dating, I give up!

So to celebrate my departure from the land of the dead, a friend of mine dragged me kicking and screaming, forced, convinced me with blackmail, threatened me with violence , set me up on a blind date the weekend just past.

This is the problem when all of your female friends are in loving, stable monogamous relationships. They often see you as someone they can pass off their single female friends to, when she first brought this up I wasn’t looking forward to it. Suffice to say I should have listened to my instincts. But alas, my positive outlook on everything since getting well again won.

So, Sunday came, and the optimist in me (may he die a thousand deaths via paper-cut) came to the fore, and I began to actually look forward to the date.

“How bad could it be?” he said.

“If it all goes banana shaped, you’ll just make a new friend, right?” he said.

“And who knows, this could turn out to be the girl of your dreams even!” he said.

So with a jaunty step, I traveled into the City for the date.

It started off well. We found each other easily enough. Both of us were on time. I liked the cut of her jib. And I saw no visible cringe from her when I walked up and flashed her a smile. Her returning smile was actually quite adorable.

So far so good. Maybe this will be a good day.

But oh, I was wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

We engaged in some light small talk, until the waitress came over to serve us. The waitress was a chirpy young lass, bright and bubbly. It was a pleasant change from the sour faced harridans you sometimes get in these places. She smiled at us, handed us our menus and asked if we wanted any drinks to start off with. It was a warm day so I was looking for something an iced coffee, maybe an orange juice, I hadn’t yet decided, so I gestured to my date that she should go first. And thus I heard the first faint splashes of waves against the iceberg that was to sink this Captain Sweatpant SS Dating Life Titanic.

Crazy Date Girl: “Orange Juice and don’t take forever about it. And none of that bottled stuff. Freshly squeezed.”

I glanced up, eyebrow raised at the rudeness of the order, looking for some hint that she was being ironical in her rudeness. A smile. A big grin. A poker face, then breaking out into a belly laugh and then apologising to the waitress for odd sense of humour.


She just sat there glaring at the waitress.

The waitress, of course immediately went into professional mode, and said that she’s bring it out straight away, smile gone. She turned to me and asked what I was after.

Me: “Iced coffee, please.” I said pointing to the menu, and the waitress bent down to see what I was pointing at, “And we’ll have a look through the menus and we should be ready when the drinks come, thanks” I said, with an apologetic smile.

She smiled back, seeming to understand that this was a blind date. And told us she’d be back shortly with our drinks.

As soon as the waitress had turned her back, I hear the sudden crash of the iceberg ripping through starboard side of the date, it came in the form of this:

Crazy Date Girl: “Did you see that little slut flirting with you?!?!” 

Me: “Errr.”

Crazy Date Girl:What a whore, we’re obviously on a date and she goes and hits on you right in front of me.”

Me:I don’t think she was hitting on me… I think she’s just doing her job. You know, customer service and all that…” I say trying to keep the peace, and save as many women and children that I could on the lifeboats. But they were doomed. They were all of them, doomed.

Crazy Date Girl: “Yeah right, I work in customer service. But I would never be all over a guy who was obviously on a date with another girl. That’s just disgusting. Girls like her give ALL girls a bad name.”

Me:Ummm... wha? When was she all over me?” I ask completely confused. Unless I had suddenly gotten one of those viral meningitis brain blanks right at the time this waitress was supposedly giving me a lap dance, I had no clue what she was talking about.

Crazy Date Girl: “When she was leaning all over you, pretending to look at what you were pointing at on the menu. She might as well have shoved her tits in your face. But you’re such a gentleman you didn’t even look. That’s why *insert-friends-name-who-I-am-going-to-kill here*  knew we would get along so well.”

Craaassshhhhhhh! Iceberg dead ahead!!!

I try and steer the conversation to less troubled waters but to no avail. For the next five minutes I am provided a non-stop hypothetical rant of the sluttiness of our waitress. I sit there, aghast. I’m sure my friend is about to jump out of the bushes and tell me I’ve been punk’d. I’m sure of it. Surely no one is actually like this woman in real life. I try to glance around surreptitiously for a camera, surreptitiously because I don’t want this harpy to think I may be checking out other females.

Our drinks finally arrive, and the optimist in me thinks maybe this can still be salvageable.

Again, he was wrong. So terribly wrong.

Crazy Date Girl: “This has pulp in it. I asked for no pulp. Are you stupid?” I hear her say.

The waitress again in total professional mode, has her smile frozen in place apologises and tells her that she’ll bring another glass straight away.

Crazy Date Girl: “Good. And stop flirting with my boyfriend as well.” 

Well, that was the final bulkhead to collapse and flood the inner compartments with the frigid cold waters of the Northern Atlantic.

Me: “Okay. Stop right there. You did not ask for “no pulp” in your orange juice, you asked for freshly squeezed orange juice. And in the rudest way possible. You do not treat people this way. I don’t care if you’ve been having a bad day, week, month, year, life… you just don’t! And dear god, I am not your boyfriend, I met you 10 minutes ago!”

By the time that last line was delivered I was standing, and had raised my voice a tad. I’m not one for public outbursts, so I felt hugely awkward.

I took a $20 note out of my wallet handed it to the waitress, apologised and told her to keep the change. I turned to my date, told her this isn’t going to work out. And walked off.

And to tell you the truth it was a relief. Not getting out of that date, but okay that was a relief too. But the relief came more because, that was the last straw, in regards to putting up with bad dates. Somewhere along that rant, I had made a decision that I was no longer going to put myself through these ghastly things, looking for that one glimmer of humanity, in the ever increasing amount of douchiness out there. The realisation that I was actually happier being single and not at all looking for a relationship, than I was being single and constantly searching for “the one”. That I would be gloriously ecstatic being single and alone for all of eternity, than being stuck with Crazy Date Girl for the rest of my life.

And thus, I bid farewell to SS Dating Life Titanic. May you sink to the deep dark depths of the Atlantic and slowly rust into oblivion.

Until James Cameron makes a movie about you that is.

And frankly that would be the scariest disaster movie evvveerrrrrrr.

Hello blog, I really should make more of an effort.

I currently have 27 posts in “Draft”.

I've got a big one of those on my desk...

And frankly I don’t think any of them should see the light of day.

I’ve found in the few months I’ve been keeping this blog that my writing style, is simply an extension of my personality.

My writing comes in spurts and bursts. I sit down in front of the computer, marshal my thoughts into some semblance of order, and then spew it out onto the screen. I usually try to edit as I go along, but mainly editing is at a minimum. (as those who read this blog can attest! Ha! Take that grammar nazi’s! *grin*)

And this is the problem. If I begin a post, and then for some reason or other, fail to finish it and then stick it into “Draft”, I never get back into that specific frame of mind that I was when I started it. Then when I come back to it, the entire premise of the post is lost on me, and I start second thinking myself.

“What the hell was this post about?”

“Who is my audience?” (Damn you Creative Writing Professor at University! You drilled this so much into my head now, 10+ years after graduating I still find myself asking this stupid question!)

Am I? Am I? Ammmmmm IIIIIII??

“Will people think I’m stupid after they read this post?”

“Is this post stupid?”

“Am I stupid?”

“And is my stupidity so rampant that I have become one of those people who is unaware of their stupidity, and therefore makes these off the wall comments thinking he’s being intelligent and quirky, when he’s just being mundane and boring.

Damn right!

And so on.

And it’s these two modes of thinking that pretty much define how I live my life.

I’m either barrelling ahead, with no thought to consequences, with a devil may care attitude. Oblivious (or totally ignoring) to nay sayers and others who suggest caution. Sure I’ve had my share of disasters living life like this, but I’ve also had my share of impossible against the odds, million to one shot wins (Landing a job that let me live and work on an island resort in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, whilst still recovering from depression).


My brain holds my life hostage. My thoughts spiralling into an infinite loop of repeating logic and second questioning. Playing out “what-if” scenarios in my head ad-nauseum, until I am frozen in a near state of panic and self doubt. And sure I’ve missed out on a helluva lot of opportunities, but I’ve also managed to avoid doing a few really, really, really, really, REALLY stupid things (Jumping off that balcony in Madrid).

I would say that growing up I was the latter. I was cautious. I over-thought everything. I was boring.

And the whole daredevil attitude came about as I realised just how much I was missing out by constantly thinking too much about things.

But switching from one extreme to the other, well it’s tiring. So I’m making a conscious decision to try and mend my ways, I’m going to try bully my cautious wimpy side and my completely-off-his-nutter daredevil side into an arranged marriage. Of course, trying to mend a decade’s worth behavioural insanity isn’t going to be easy. So baby steps.

Starting with this blog.

I am going to trawl through my drafts list and finish every single one of those entries.




Even if when I read back on thoughts made a few months ago, and they’re just hopelessly banal, and I shudder at the thought of someone reading them, I will still attempt to finish them off. Since at one point in time, I found whatever it was I was writing about important enough to write about.

I am going to give myself the whole month of April to finish these posts. So bear with me.

But I will need some help, just to start off with.

So once again, I’m putting it to a vote. I’ve got some of the entries listed below and an overview of what I’m talking about (since I’ve come to realise the titles of my blog posts tend to veer away from the actual content…) and I’m asking anyone to chip in what they would like to see me finish.

–          Hello my name is Sweatpants, and I’m an FNCthis post is about dating, and my total hopelessness at it.

–          Hello, umm porn seekers, it was inevitable I guessthis post is about the pornification (is that even a word?) of the searches that are being directed to my blog.

–          Hello Bridget, *waves* this was inspired by you!answers Bridgets question as to why my medical expenses in Australia have been astronomical, and provides an explanation of the medicare system of Australia

–         Hello rainy Saturday, time to catch up on my favourite blogsbloglove! Just an updated list of the many people who I stalk, make effigies of and worship as I make my blood sacrifices to their unbelievable blogging abilities.

So your call… oh and if no one votes then meh. I’ll bore you with something about toe nail clippings or something 😛

… Then Riddle Me That.

First some housekeeping. Apologies for the total lack of posts recently, and also the quality of the posts. I know they’ve been lacking the normal effervescent I-don’t-know-what, you’ve come to expect and demand from this blog. Apparently when you get viral meningitis, you have the post-viral effects to look forward to, which is pretty much the same symptoms as the original, but this time you have no time frame with which to hope for relief.

But, 2 doctors, 1 morphine based drug later, a neurologist,  2 beta blockers, and $1000 later… I am all better.

And to welcome myself back, I’m going to answer a few questions asked by fellow blogger, and someone who’s much prettier and funnier than me Curly Carly! (and seriously Carly… this is what the 5th? 6th? time I’ve referenced you in my blog? We’re going to have to have a chat about the advertising fees ;))

Her questions:

1. Why won’t Christina Aguilera just cover it up already?

As I’m in Australia, we are thankfully cushioned by geography from much of the excesses of a lot of the USA’s pop culture shenanigans. That and I don’t think I’ve watched television in about 6 months, so I’m not even sure what you mean when you’re asking Christina to cover it up… did she get naked?
2. If Dirk Nowitzki asked you to play him in a game of basketball, would you jump at the chance or decline to prevent eventual humiliation?

Errr…who? Sorry the last time I watched an NBA game, Jordan was still about.

3. Do you think dogs know the difference between male and female humans?

I would say yes. I mean dogs see with their nose right? Like their sense of smell is their primary way they perceive the world. Now even I can tell that any woman smells nicer than I do (and seriously I’ve lived with girlfriends, shared the same soap, same shampoo, same food, same everything. But even on a lazy winter Sunday, when I haven’t done anything that would work up a slight bit of sweat, except lay on the couch as a cushion to be used by the girlfriend, I still smell like a dead, wet dog compared to her. How do you do it females??? HOW?!?!?) so it would be safe to assume women to dogs smell like a Chanel No. 5, covered in lavender, and smothered in honey and chocolate two legged mistress, while us men, to dogs, would smell like a sweaty, corn-chip factory worker, who has tried to cover the smell with liberal amounts of deodorant.
3. If everyone in the world agreed to shave their heads, would you be happy or upset that you would be expected to do the same?

Errr… I’m a boy, we really don’t have an emotional attachment to our hair, unless we’re going bald, then we do. But as a bloke, if you know your hair will grow back, doesn’t really matter what you do with it, it’s when it we realise that as we’re losing it that it will never grow back ever again, is when we start crying.
4. Are you getting enough fiber? Are you??

Good god no. I’m apparently according to a younger acquaintance, 2 years off the beginning of middle age (which apparently begins at 35 and ends at around 45). If I started worrying about fibre intake, it would be a small slippery slope into worrying about my cholesterol, then salt, liver, kidneys… ugh.
5. Do you feel that your own sex or the opposite sex has more advantages in our day and age?

Not really, especially in this day and age. I think it’s pretty equal. Oh sure women are increasingly becoming more independent, powerful. Women still have the casting vote as to whether or not to enter into a relationship. Women have banded together in recent years to support each other across every sort of social media possible. But as a man, the world is my urinal.
6. If the world voted to deem weeds as “beautiful,” like flowers and trees, would you be happy or upset?

Wouldn’t really care. I’ve seen fields of dandelions that have been magical, and perfectly manicured gardens that have left me cold. But I do like a well-kept lawn. Beauty is just how you see things really.

7. If Facebook and Twitter suddenly went away, how would this impact you? In other words, how engrained or ungrained are they in your life? Would you suddenly have very few friends, or the exact same number as before?

I would be pretty much the same. Most of my friends are from real life. I barely talk to anyone via twitter. I have a few acquaintances on-line, but I don’t really count people as friends until I have their mobile number and I have gotten off-my-tits-drunk with them at least once.

8. Which stage of the mourning process are you in regarding Oprah’s exit from her TV show? Be honest.

I don’t think I’ve ever watched an Oprah show from beginning to end.

9. If someone fist-bumped you, would you a) fist-bump them back, b) ask why that person is such an awful punch thrower, or c) tell them it’s probably better to keep their hands to themselves at all times?

I will confess, I am a serial fist-bumper after a few pints. So definitely A.

10. I believe there are two types of people in the world: those who are generally mentally energized after being around people and those who are generally mentally exhausted after being around people. Which are you?

I shall now blow your theory out of the water because I am both. If I am with people who share the same sense of humour and level of intellect with, and therefore the conversation is a rip-roaring affair full of laughter, terrible puns, one-liners and zingers, I feel like a god after. If on the other hand I am dealing with a complete dullard, and I have felt it necessary that I carry the conversation, then I feel like I’ve been sucked dry.

Annnnnnd… done…

Now according to the rules I’m supposed to compile a list of 10 questions and then pick 10 fellow bloggers to ask said questions to…

But it’s a beautiful crisp autumn Saturday afternoon, I have been stuck at home every weekend for four weeks because I’ve been ill.

So… bye!

Hello music, welcome back into my life.

I have a weird relationship with music.

There are periods when I can go months without even knowing which gym shorts my ipod is currently entombed in, and then I go through a period when I will stay up for days trawling through YouTube and Vuze trying to find songs to fit my mood, and then playing those songs on repeat endlessly until my room mate threatens me with disembowelment.

I’m currently in the latter stage, and I am currently going through a period of searching for covers of songs.

I love covers. Don’t get me wrong. Great original music still has a special place in my heart, but honestly, its harder to find these days.

But someone taking an existing song and giving it their own personal twist, I don’t know, there’s something about that process that strikes a chord in me.

So without further ado, here are a list of songs and covers wihich I think may have actually improved on the original (whether it be through the awesomeness of 5 people playing on one instrument, or the fact a 14 year old MALE can belt out something Whitney Houston did in her prime)

To start off lets keep it Aussie… Somebody That I Used To Know – Gotye

And who else could cover an Aussie so brilliantly except our Northern cousins, the Canadians!  Walk Off The Earth – Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye – Cover). Seriously 5 musicians on one instrument… freaking awesome.

Next we have I Don’t know by Lisa Hannigan.

Which was covered by yet another Canadian (I think) Anna Scouten!

Now, Ms Scouten actually has a YouTube channel of her own, but unfortunately her original recording has this incessant beeping noise that detracts from her song. So I’ve posted a different video which was uploaded which has removed the annoying beeping. But the young lass has a few other covers that are worth the listen (First Day of My Life and Lovin’s For Fools are the best in my opinion). Now as for these two versions of I Don’t Know, while quite similar, I think Anna’s version captures the fun that is a little lacking in the original, which make her version work just that much more better.

And now comes Radioheads – Creep!

Which is then covered by Homeless Mustard

Okay the original has Johnny Depp in the music video, who is by far the coolest person living on this planet. But this homeless guys voice is just so raw and filled with emotion that it just adds a layer of depth to the song when he sings, that Radioheads singer’s clear tenor just cannot compete with, no matter what awesome person they stick into their videoclip.

Second to last! We come to the recently passed, Whitney Houston – I Have Nothing.

And covered by the winner of Australia’s Got Talent 2011 in his first audition Jack Vidgen.

Okay that kid is 14. Four. Teen. The fact that at 14 he can sing like  that unfortunately does trump Whitney. Sorry Americans.

And to finish off the list, we’re going full Australian!

We have the original Throw You Arms Around Me by the Hunters and Collectors.

Which is then covered by the comedic musical trio the Doug Anthony All Stars.

Okay, this version of throw your arms around me, trumps even Eddie Veders (of Pearl Jam fame for you youngsters out there, and if you don’t know Pearl Jam… I don’t think you’re old enough to read this blog) version. It is simply the BEST version of this song that has ever existed.

But fair warning, if you are easily offended, hell even if you have a moderate amount of tolerance (as opposed to a high tolerance aka being a sick twisted person) for extremely vulgar, black and bad taste humour. I would suggest that you NOT open up any other DAAS YouTube clips.


Trust me.

Only us warped teenagers of the 90’s find that stuff funny 😉

Hello, I’ve been an evil little monkey…

I have. I’ll confess it here and now.

I spent about 2/3 of my allocated rent money on frivolous things.

This doesn’t mean I won’t have enough money for rent next week. But it does mean that I won’t be paying so much into the credit card this week.

For shame Captain, for shaaaaaammmmmme.

*hangs head*

And you know what, I actually don’t have much to show for my evil monkey spending. Okay I got the game (and oh my god it is so awesome) and the blanket. But all tallied up that was only $150. I must’ve actually spent around $300 to get to the point where I’ve almost wiped out my rent money.

I spent another $150 on well, to put it bluntly, crap.

There was “the middle of the week Macca’s breakfast menus” craving (that’s McDonald’s to you Northernites). – $20 (not all of that was mine, I bought food for others)

There was the “it’s a weekend I have nothing in the house so I’ll order take-away attack” – $20 (that was all me)

And then there was” the middle of the night I’m peckish, I’ll go down to the over-priced 24 hour Kwik-E-Mart (not what it’s actually called) and buy snacks and smokes” – $30 (cigarettes are really expensive in Australia)

There was “the middle of the week, I have nothing left to eat in the house because I was too lazy to go shopping last week, so I’ll go shopping now while I’m hungry and will pull every second item off the shelf” idiocy – $80

The only excuse I can make is that, I went a little nuts after paying off the American Express Card. I strayed from my budget (okay I more than strayed, I was a cheating slut to my budget), but I think the madness is over.

I’m back on the wagon.

The only good thing I can see from my spending spree is that, I did not succumb and use any of my credit cards for any of the above purchases.

I may actually be developing some will power.

And for all you other graph geeks out there (I know you must exist, cause if not I’m alone in the universe)… I present to you my Net Worth Graph!

At least it's going up... sorta

So as you can see I’ve been keeping budget records since April 2010. I’ve calculated Net Worth as Debt + Savings + Emergency Fund. And you can see there have been some MAJOR drops, notably in January 2011 and again in November of 2011. These two dates coincided with my move from the Northern Queensland down to Sydney then to Canberra, which happened in January. And then my move into my own place here in Canberra in November.

There’s a mini drop around June, I don’t recall exactly what I spent that money on. Probably just another one of my famous brain farts.

Anyways, if we extrapolate that line, you can see that the projected date of my Net Worth going into the black is around the end of 2012 beginning of 2013.

Another 9 months.

I just need to pray that the evil monkey in my closet doesn’t come out again.

Hello sassy grandma’s and inappropriately aged young ladies, seriously what’s the attraction?

Yesterday on my way home from work, gave me two scenarios which provided me the idea for this blog post.

As I was trundling down to the bus stop, a couple of elderly ladies stopped me on the sidewalk and asked if I knew of an Irish Pub around the area. Since I was actually going to pass one of the Irish Pubs in the city on my way to the bus stop, I told them to just follow me and I could lead them to the door. Now, before you go on about my sweetness to little old ladies, to me this is just polite. I mean, why give them directions and then walk a pace or two ahead? That’s just plain rude! So anyways, as we’re walking down to the pub we get to talking. The two ladies are recently widowed (who’s names I kid you not, are Vivian and Verity), and have been friends for nigh on 50 years. And now they’re travelling around Australia together visiting all the Irish Pubs that Australia has to offer. Which is pretty damn cool. Like a Monopoly pub crawl but nationally and irishically (is that a word? if not it is now!).

So we get to the pub, and they offer to shout me a drink. I’m not one to say no to a free alcoholic beverage. And so there we were, two ladies in their 70’s – 80’s and me, sharing a cold pint of beer. And they’re telling me THE MOST off-colour jokes I have heard in the longest time. This stuff was pure filth, and absolutely hilarious. The older of the two (Vivian) kept punching my arm and winking at me every time she said a punchline. This made it even more hilarious somehow.

And honestly, it was the most fun I’ve had in a pub in a good long while.

And so we say our goodbyes, exchange phone numbers, and they promise to look me up the next time they’re in Canberra. And while sad to think, considering their age and the amount of alcohol they were consuming, may not happen, but it would be nice if it did.

As I stroll out of the bar, a pretty young blonde lass (she was a child, couldn’t have been more than 19. And will everyone please stop assuming I’m an evil lecherous hump) runs out  of the bar, gives me a quick peck on the cheek, links arms with me and says “Let’s go sweetie.”. Now since I have never seen this girl before, I’m a little bemused, but there’s a pleading look in her eyes that makes it seem like I should play along. So I just nod and walk around the corner.

She thanks me profusely as we get out of sight of the bar. She had been waiting for a friend of hers when she got surrounded by some unseemly characters, that well, we’re not being very gentlemanly. I hadn’t even noticed her, cackling as I was with mad abandon with Vivian and Verity. But apparently the uproarious laughter from our table, had drawn the young lasses (Hayley) attention, and she had concocted her own plan of her escape which involved me playing the exit strategy.

She asks if I wouldn’t mind waiting with her at a cafe somewhere, cause she was a little rattled by her encounter. While Mass Effect 3 was burning a hole in my briefcase, the male chauvinist in me is just unable to say no to a damsel in distress. And so I take her to a coffee place, just across the road to wait with her until her friend shows up. I try to unrattle her nerves by trying to repeat some of the jokes Vivian and Verity had told me, but I just don’t have the sass to pull most of them off, but I think she appreciates the gesture. She tells me that she’s from a small country town about a 12 hour drive from Canberra, and she’s just moved to the city, looking for a job.  I give her a few helpful hints and some contacts I know within the small but thriving job recruitment community here in Canberra, and I finally get her to do a big belly laugh as I tell her my awkward adventure involving midgets and a strip club. Her friend rings her after about an hour and a half of chatting and comes picks her up. We exchange numbers and she makes me promise to ring her. I tell her that I will but I can’t promise any time soon, cause well… MASS EFFECT 3!!!! She laughs and goes off with her friend, giggling like the school girl she was, only a few months before.

And there you go. Those two, social interactions pretty much sums up what kind of women I seem to be attracting in my life recently. The sassy matronly/grandmother types who seem very keen to set me up with various daughters/grand daughters (there are currently 4 ladies in my office that fall into this category) and/or love to tell me jokes that would make your hair curl, and then the age inappropriate girls, who are far too young, for me to comfortably be able to picture them naked, let alone do more than that. (every other single female that comes into my life, the oldest has been right on the cusp of acceptability being 26).

Why I attract these particular age brackets I’m not quite sure? “Immaturity” would answer the question for the younger demographic, but this cancels out with the “mature” answer that would be the reason I could find for why the older demographic seems to find me entertaining.

Maybe I’m just not that amusing to my generation. That would explain a lot of the strange looks I get from my friends whenever random thought processes escape the Tim Burton-esque Alice In Wonderland sideshow that is my mind, and accidentally come out of my mouth as a totally random question. Maybe my sense of humour jumps a generation, funny and insightful to the baby boomers, and witty and non-sensical for the Gen-Y’ers, but totally unfunny for Gen X’ers.

Who knows?

And before anyone goes on about age is just a number, well no, it’s not. I was a snotty, self-involved, spoiled, narcissistic, brat when I was 19.

I’m no longer snotty at 33. *grin*