Lets see, after spending the night at my cousins house, spending close to an hour trying to salvage an ancient computer back to the realm of existance, for the first time, I gave up on a computer. Sitting there, looking at it’s mouldy old off-white exterior, pondering how someone who uses a computer so much could be satisfied with only a Athlon XP 1800, I decided it was time to stop flogging the dead horse, and let it rest in pieces.
If you haven’t played freelancer, you won’t really know how much fun flying though space can be. I think the main appeal of this game to me is that your in a virtually limitless universe and when two people are playing it, buzzing round the galaxy shooting bad guys, stealling stuff and building bigger and better ships, what’s not to love. Mike and I played that for about 4 hours last night, bar a slight detour to the local McDonalds to partake in a Big Mac meal, and a large Strawberry thickshake… I can’t think of a drink I like more than the Strawberry thickshake. I just really hoped they would have fixed those flimsy straws. As you suck the potent liquid through it, it buckles, splits and ends up cutting your lips. Not a nice feeling, but the thickshake is so good, you persevere.
I woke up at 7am, only to receive an SMS from Laura, my friend whom I met at TAFE, saying that this mornings effort of shovelling what later turned out to be 1 1/4 cubic metres of gravel into their gardens was postponed to 11am because Luke, another ‘Tafe Mate’, couldn’t get out of bed that early. It seems these days people are becoming more and more intolerant of mornings. I seriously love them. There’s nothing better than waking up around 7 and watching some early morning television, going outside for a nice walk, or just sitting in the back yard watching the frost disscipate. I left Mikes house around 10:30, and I had to go without breakfast, as of course, noone is up yet. Of course this was expected, as usually noone gets up in that house until around 12pm on weekeneds. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good sleep-in myself, but EVERY WEEKEND?
Well moving on from there, I drove directly to my friend Laura’s house. There was much groundwork to be done. I was most impressed with myself, having arrived without the aid of a GPS Navigation system (which sadly is no more), nor the use of a refidex. If you’ve ever tried to navigate the maze of streets that is Forest Lake, you will know what i’m talking about. It is seriously confusing, and with streets that are marked as both ways, but aparently dont seem wide enough to accomodate two cars.
Rob was the foreman of the day, directing, under Laura’s instructions, everyone else as to where the what we discovered weren’t boulders as we expected but just over a cubic metre of what was essentially gravel. As Luke and Jen, and then subsequently, John arrived, it was clear to me that there were probably too many people there. The wheelbarrows were loaded, moved and emptied so quick, what we anticipated to take all day, took just over an hour.
Shortly thereafter, we desscimated the garden under the front window, and covered it with gravel too. Not before I stuck my shovel through the irrigation pipe, not once, but twice. Its amazing what a little dirt can do to cover evidence. (snicker)
After congratulating ourselves on a job well done, realised the time was 1:30pm and I had to leave in a hurry to get home, get showered and changed, and quickly drive out to my Grandmothers. Too quickly it would seem, I was fortunate enough to have been flashed by a randomly positioned Speed Camera car. In situations like this I would be tempted to verbally bash the Queensland Police for revinue raising, or some other faux pa, but I was clearly in the wrong, 104 in a 90 zone, and well, 1 point and $90 out of pocket, it’s a fair cop. I managed to arrive 20 minutes late, only to find the person I was supposed to be meeting, my obscure aunt, hadn’t arrived yet. She had gotten lost. It turned out she had not been to Brisbane in some 20 years, and was not sure where anything was any more. My father, knowing the streets like the back of his hand, was able to direct her back to my Grandmothers house, and all was good after that. The vacant lot next my grandmothers was advantageous as we discovered it was just the right size to play a little football with my brother.
I’ll take this opportunity to introduce my brother. Jason, is 32, in a defacto relationship with is partner Renee, (really nice girl) and happens to be one of the most renowned chef’s in Australia. (My primary claim to fame). I get to see him usually once a fortnight, either at his house, fixing something, Usually his computer, or at my parents house, for one of our ever-so sporatic gatherings. They are usually a great deal of fun, and this one was no exception. Throwing the footy in the back yard, the spirit of Australianism, then proceeding to towel-whip each other. Now I should point out that there is noone in the world better at towel-whipping than my brother, so it should come as a surprise to you that I am always egging him on by attacking first. Having been subjected to this for many years, i’ve become quite adept at fighting back. This day, was the exception. He kicked my ass, literally. I had forgotten to wet the end of the teatowel, so I was not acheiving the required velocity to cause pain. The battle ensued for many minutes, ending up in a tackle match, which for the first time EVER, I managed to win. I was so proud of myself. It also served as a reminder that we’re all getting older and my brother, who is now 32, is getting older. I was slightly saddened by this, but took solace in the fact that I ended winning the day. Victory is ever so sweet.
Last night, however, is something I choose to block out of my mind. All I can say is, what the hell was I thinking.
Recent Comments