Transport parley

The new STA buses,  or perhaps there is only one which I am fortunate to catch most mornings to work, feature the most fabulously fat round STOP buttons that you press when you want to admonish the bus driver, dob in a fellow passenger, or even alight from Mr Jiggly Jiggly. These buttons are the size and shape  of yo-yos and are tomato sauce red with a yellow trim and I think S T O P is written in white on a red background. Very soothing and highly effective. Nifty, what.

When I have not been admiring these buttons, caressing them with my digits,  occasionally with my tongue; they do also resemble a lollypop/Wimpy burger, my focus in transit has been distracted by private transport, the rear windows and bumpers of cars, usually  some form of four wheel drive..  It would seem that The Baby on Board, Mum’s Taxi, Warning Nervy B Driver signs and stickers have been replaced, in fact, trumped by adhesive adornments that are even more nauseatingly self-congratulatory.  Yes,  I’ve finally noticed the “My family” stick figures stickers.

Oh the cult of the human and its tragic quest for further limelight hoggery, indivduality and validation. How much do these people and their faaaaamlies need?!   A rebate for lack of  awesomeness and being insufficiently surreal, I guess. Get a blog for cock's sake, that is what my bumper sticker sez. Incidentally, i've twice seen the word  J E S U S in big spaced out letters plastered across a car's rear windscreen.  I'm not sure if it is in honour of that crazy, delusional prophet (possibly sane compared to Apostle Paul) or if it's just a means of communicating vexation with one's quotidian when in jaloppy.

Did you know that you could fit the entire Queensland ALP opposition in a station wagon or mini bus? And if there is a ruction, well, crumbs, five of them could squeeze into my modest little hatchback and the other two on a motorcycle and sidecar. Stylish but a rum state of affairs.

Dude! (looks like a luvvy?)

I have just spent the past ten minutes searching the office kitchen shelves and cupboards for my coffee cup. While I was not quite having the usual yelping nervy b as when looking for keys, tops and shoes -  I am in public bel mode, after all,  I was rather puzzled, not to mention choked from supressing nervy b yelps and groans. Imagine my surprise  , get set for wawawaaaaaa sound effect when I found cup (don’t worry it doesn’t have “you don’t have to be made to work here but it helps..” written on it (cup is not THAT big) on my desk concealed by briefing papers  that were vertically propped  against cup.

In other news: Seal and Delta?!! Leanne Edelsten and Clive James?!! Luvvies and me.  Who said the naughties were over?!? and one more for effect,  ooh, ah,  ! yeah

of all the gin joints

When there are six cubicles in a public latrine, five of which are vacant, why on earth would ANYONE choose to take the cubicle that IS directly beside the occupied cubicle. WHY?

 Who are these needy people?! Why have they no sense of proivacy, prickliness or prudishness?! Granted there is NO NEED to ask who the uptight person/people is/are (oh the conjugational bliss of such an inclusive exclamation)! I just cannot understand  or abide it. This was too long for twitter.