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Tuesday, 25 September 2007

Walk the walk...


I have decided, for reasons of my own sanity, to go for a walk each lunch hour. As you may know, I work in a male dominated office. The fact that I am the only woman does not bother me. I can hold my own with any man. However, these men are anything but intimidating. I liken them to a bunch of drunken six year olds all demanding attention.

I exercise every morning – puke, spew. I hate exercise. The only reason I do it is to be able to drink alcohol and eat junk and still fit into my jeans. I plan on dying a relatively slim if not diseased corpse. I want other women to view my dead, denim clad body and think ‘what a bitch, she’s still wearing the same size jeans.’ But I digress – back to the drunken six year olds. If I stay in my office during lunch, I get inundated with dumb questions.

I work in an industrial area. There is nowhere exciting to go at lunch time and it has become clear to me the less time I spend in the office the better. So, yesterday, I headed out for a walk. The men all wondered what was going on. ‘What will we do if we have a problem?' What if someone rings?' I explained that if the building was on fire, my suggestion was to get the hell out and if someone rang , use one of the pretty pink message pads beside the phone and write a message on it. “What did you think they were there for?” Answer? “Dunno. We just thought women liked pink.” Yes, of course…

So I headed off. I am a fast walker. Keep up or I'll leave you for dead. I pounded along Sandgate Road on my power walk. Brisbane-ites will know how not exciting this major road is. Trucks scream by, horns blare and people have spectacular crashes hourly. But you know what? It is so much more peaceful than being at work. When I returned all wind blown, I felt better. Yes, I hate exercise but walking to me is not exercise. It’s a stress relief.

***Post walk note.
On my power walk I found a nifty little shop stuck in amongst all the Industrial buildings. It stopped me in my tracks. The shop was full of all sorts of ethnic knick knacks. Just my sort of place. I feel you cannot have too many hanging, dangling chimes that clang together or Chinese, red tasselled objet d’art that guarantee good fortune or wild sequinned cushions or Budda key rings (no, I am not a Buddhist. He just seems like a peaceful guy to me). And, it would have been against all the genetic laws of nature if I did not buy a heap of stuff I did not need. I had to. It was ten percent off everything in the store. There was no other choice. Added to that, I told myself l deserved it. And I believed me. Besides, the ten percent I saved on the stuff I bought there is money I can use somewhere else. If you look at it like that I would have been foolish not to buy something. I shop, therefore I am
On www.kkirch.blogspot.com yesterday, Kelly presented us with this piece of madness ....

Sam scribbled further. Shade and Rafe popped on to the scene only to meld into one, perfect, intelligent male who immediately bowed before Emmeline’s naked form.

For Bambi everything faded to black as she was written out, her clothes given to Emmeline.

“Great. Here we go again,” Emmeline groused.

My sojourn into blog serial land today...

“Gabrielle do you know why I called you in here today?” Marcus Flint, Professor of Epizootics, asked his student.

“You are wildly in love with me?”

“No, you’re because you are a pain in the arse.” He waved a sheaf of papers before her. “The assignment was about man’s esoteric struggle against the existential environment of being. But you Gabrielle had to write about feral hamsters, idiot, fanged twins and a quilled warrior woman.”

“I take it I didn't get an A?” Gabrielle knew she had to play this flip and cool if she was to succeed in her mission. The gargoyle before her was good but she could see through his disguise. Granite could only wear human skin for so long before it puckered as it did around his neck.

“Let’s cut the crap Gabrielle.” Marcus reached over and picked up the loaded stapler from his desk. “We both know what game you’ve been playing. You’re no student.”

“And you’re no lecturer.” Gabrielle kept her eyes focused on the stapler. The last Omega Force agent had been stapled to death. “I know who you are Marcus and you will not succeed.”

Marcus laughed at her words. “But I have already my dear. I have impregnated half the women on campus. They soon will give birth to a superhuman breed of gargoyles.”

“Oh but you’re wrong,” Gabrielle smiled at his supercilious tone. “They weren’t real women you impregnated.”

“What? I don’t believe you.”

“Oh poor Marcus shall I tell you who you’ve been screwing?”
Whatever will Anny do on Wednesday. I already know. She's a wicked woman. Check out www.annycook.blogspot.com
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

4 comments:

Kelly Kirch said...

Drunken six year olds? I don't know what the drinking age is in OZ but I reckon they need to up the limit at least 10 more years.

And AJ, I have never imagined you as a knick-nack person in denim. You and I will get along just fine.

anny cook said...

Man, I would love a store like that. I wonder if they had chopsticks? And ticky-tacky little boxes...

Molly Daniels said...

Or blank journals? I have a love of paper:)

AJ, see today's blog concerning my not wanting to be seen entering a motel with 3 men! I'm posting it in a few minutes:)

Kelly Kirch said...

I like ethnic stuff. Things with artistic lines. Like the wayang puppet i have, or the stone carving of a mother and child from Nigeria, or anything antique... back when things were made with quality and care and *gasp* REAL wood.

I'm also a jeans girl. Do not give me a dress. There are few dresses I can wear and not look ridiculous.