Tuesday, April 24, 2007

back again

Wish I could report that in my absence I engaged in acts of lofty humanitarianism -- such as saving pristine rainforest villagers from evil development companies, or establishing free medical centres in overcrowded ghetto slums -- alas, the truth is far less glamorous. I've just been 'flat out lazy' (which is like normal 'laziness' but with extra vigour & vim). Not, however, without good cause. School holidays mean only one thing: an attack of slovenly, uncouth mobs. Yup, a tsunami of visiting relatives, descending like psychic vampires who terrorise then flitter away leaving one emotionally drained.

Nevertheless, such invasions do have rewards; my family came bearing gifts: loads of food, booze and good news. The beer fridge bulges while my barely used kitchen became a hive of fevered activity. Ahh, alcohol! With its dreamy contemplativeness inspiring reflection & profound personal realisations. Like the fact that hangovers get worse with age. Contrary to most activities - where practice begets expertise - my 'day afters' now stretch into 3-day recovery ordeals.

So thank goodness for the abundance of food to line a queasy stomach. So spoiled for choices, I'm quite the gourmand lately. A pushy one at that, quite literally "too big for my britches." Yes, middle-age spread becomes me. Spring may be long gone, but I've 'blossomed' anew. Quite enamoured of my new curves and padded bits, I've taken to impromptu haka moves before my bathroom mirror post-shower. I'm pleased with my increased 'stature' and will wear it as a badge of defiance against the anti-obesity nut-bars. Although I may have to wear it with trousers unzipped, as none of my pants fit the waist anymore. Then again, is having your fly down really such a fashion faux pas? I mean, no one's gonna see it... concealed by a big flabby guts spilling over. Or maybe I really should limit calorific intake. I've previously enjoyed the liquid-diet, but as I said, the hangovers kill me.

But let's not dwell on sad things. I heard the very best news in ages. Cousin tells me she learned (probably 3rd-hand from an unreliable source who read in a cheesy tabloid mag) that Michelle Rodriguez is a lesbian in real life. Yee-hah! Not that I wanna marry a dyke. But I'm realistic enough to admit it's possible MR & I may never actually walk down the aisle. But so long as some other punk doesn't get his grubby little mitts on her, I can live with our unweddedness. Michelle is my archetype wife-figure. I believe she may even be a celestial message sent so should I spot someone resembling MR, I'll recognise her as "the one." A personal sign for me to approach her with a chat-up line, like: "Hey girl! Wanna help me pull my fly up? Wanna rub my big guts?"

What have I got to lose? (apart from my bachelorhood... and a few kilos). Wish me luck!


Anonymous said...


I totally understand where you're coming from with the increased fat comments and falling fly issue; none of my jeans fit now. Perhaps i better ask for a raise. Though I don't think Winz will be interested.


belt said...

Having been brough here by Lindsay, I'm sad to say the volume of posts is too low.

Mind you, if it's a quality vs. quantity issue, I'll take quality. But two blogs and no posts for weeks?


Phil said...

Cheers Julio! Track pants or anything with an elasticised waist band is my solution ;-)

Hi Belt,
I never intended to be away for so long. Busy, busy, busy lately. Real life priorities have taken precedence. And when finally I get some down time, I've been too knackered to do anything except watch TV. Hopefully things will pick up again.