First headfuck, was Charlie’s computer. Now, when Charlie says to me ‘I need your
help with my computer…’ I try desperately to run in the opposite direction
screaming ‘NNNNNOOOOOO!!!!!!!’.
However, because he’s fitter than me (and mainly because I
don’t do ‘running’) he catches me, and I’m screwed.
I have no illusions about my limitations when it comes to
technology. Sure, I can use technology,
and use it well. However, I neither
understand nor care how it works. That’s
not my role. I’m the consumer; I just
need to reap the benefits of someone else’s knowledge and effort.
Don’t ask me to fix technology; I have not a clue. I wish everyone else would get that.
So when Charlie is met by considerable resistance from me
(even though I do try to help, but clearly haven’t the knowledge to fix
things), he get’s the shits on.
Typical boy.
He’s had his computer at the techno geek store for a week,
and we get it home, and his internet’s fucked.
That’s the only term I can use for it; fucked. Mind you, the internet was working perfectly
before he took it in there. Now it’s
fucked.
So, I tried to help out a little yesterday morning, but
with no great success. This resulted in
him having to ring Optus (no fucken was I was going to), as I quietly slipped
out of the house, and headed off to Mitcham to visit my gorgeous cousin in
hospital (with Jade and Iris in tow).
So, when I get home last night (after enjoying a lovely
pizza at Iris’), Charlie has missed out on golf because he was on hold on two
separate occasions with Optus for over three hours (poor bastard), and his
internet is still not 100%.
AND, to top everything off, when I got home, I realised
that my washing machine hasn’t run its cycle. It’s just flashing at me like a hooker on the
corner of Inkerman Street
So, after spending fifteen minutes searching my internet (which works, thank fuck), I
found the manual for the machine, only to learn that the damn thing needs to be
serviced.
Wonderful.
Who the fuck is going to come out here to service my
washing machine? Seriously? I say ‘Tooborac’, and they say WTF? SO, that’s tomorrow’s job; find someone to
service my washing machine. Good luck
with that, I say.
In the interim, I’m having to raid Iris’ washing machine
to do all of my stuff, then cart it back home to friggin’ dry, because it’s
suppose to rain tomorrow. FML.
However, the win today was that Jade and I got stuck into
the veggie garden and cleaned it up.
It’s been terribly neglected fro the last six to eight
months, I reckon. So, we weeded it and
cleaned it out, added some soil improver and pea straw; pruned, chopped and
planted, all whilst dodging spiders – which elicited quite a few fearful yelps
from Jade. We even found an albino
looking spider, which was totes weird.
Anyway, with that done, I started on making some tomato
sauce.
My neighbours had yielded a massive crop of beautiful
tomatoes, and were kind enough to swing some my way.
How’s this for ‘meant to be’: I needed 2.4 kg of tomatoes
for the recipe (which is my friend Bakho’s awesome recipe, by the way), and the
gift of tomatoes was 2.463 kg. Meant to
be.
Now that sauce is bottled and cooling on the bench, and
I’m sitting here thinking of all the yummy shit I can cook, just to use it! Yummy sauce!!
I’ve caught up on my CWA paperwork, in readiness for my
meeting tomorrow. I’ve filtered through
a couple of nice recipes that I may put up on my Facebook page tomorrow (if I have time):
And I’ve got all of my paperwork together to hit my BAS
stuff in the morning, after I’ve no doubt spend a billion hours of my life on
the phone to the LG service department, in a desperate attempt to get someone
out here to bum fuck nowhere, and service my damn washing machine.
All in all, it’s been a productive weekend, which I’m
totes thankful for.
Peace out.
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