Thrust and Counterthrust

So we had two days out of the office to talk about how unhappy everyone apparently is and what we can do to make things better.

I think the old standard should apply: the floggings will continue until morale improves.

It was all the usual dreary stuff but there were a couple of moments. We'd broken into groups for about the millionth time to think about various bits and pieces. Our group was looking at how we could use the intranet to improve communications. I suggested - tongue in cheek - that we set up an 'after dark' function that would allow like-minded individuals throughout the organisation to meet up for either a firm commitment or just discreet fun times. It was kind of disturbing the enthusiastic response it got.

Then I said that I couldn't really see it being a goer. After all, I pointed out, I had yet to meet a man in the office who inspired me to call him up for anything other than a work-related matter.

"Huh," said one of the senior dudes, who is known for being a bit of a perv, "You've clearly got higher standards than me."

Theory of Relativity

Earlier this year RobertPlant and I went to see Crispin Glover's Big Slide Show. It was a great night and at the end of the evening he took questions from the audience and was available to chat afterwards. I really wanted to stand up during question time and ask, "Do you have a girlfriend?" but frankly I felt too shy. Both RobertPlant and I were disappointed in my reticence.

So I resolved while we were lining up to have our Robert Forster books signed that I wouldn't let another opportunity pass me by. Not to ask him if he had a girlfriend! Sheesh. I could see he was wearing a wedding ring. I mean, come on.

I got up to him and handed him my book.

"You know, I can't stand how my own voice sounds so how does it feel, you're standing here in this bookshop and they're playing your songs over the speakers? Do you like hearing your music playing?"

"It's a bit odd. I don't mind it like this for a little while, but if it went on too long it'd feel strange."

"So you don't get into your car and slip on a 'best of' of yourself for the journey then?"

"Er, no."

He smiled but he also looked at me a little warily. Robert Forster thinks I'm a weirdo! Robert Forster clearly hasn't been to see Crispin Glover's Big Slide Show.

Mr Burt Reynolds and Mr Dolly Parton

RobertPlant has decided to turn his obsessive attentions to Robert Forster.

[When will he ever become obsessed with Bob?? Oh the conversations we could be having!]

So we were at Planet Books last night where RF was signing books. RobertPlant had bought two copies of the book, one for each of us, for the requisite autograph. It's been a while since he's bought a new book; he was somewhat affronted at the cost. He's going to be even more affronted when he gets to the content. I'd picked up a few other books I planned to buy. I showed him the latest one by Alan Bennett.

"Do you think RF would be offended if I asked him to sign this instead?"

RobertPlant snorted. The old jokes always get the best reactions.

Y'know?

Later on in the arvo one of Boxer Girl's friends and her husband turned up. At some point the friend got it in her head that she needed to set me up with one of her single (male) mates.

"Hey, here's one for you!" she said and proceeded to name a fellow.

You know how sometimes you just know someone isn't right for you? You don't need to meet them, you don't even need to have them described to you. You just know.

Fortunately the friend's husband knew too. He's a sensible, level-headed man and I was so grateful when he stepped in and said, "We are not introducing hb to Dodgy."

Aaaaaand....RACING!

Around March this year I bought, on impulse, a hat. Then I texted Boxer Girl and said, "I've bought a hat! Hope you're having a Melbourne Cup do because I've got a hat to wear!"

I wasn't too worried about imposing on my friend. She may grizzle about having 175 people round to her abode for causal nibbles but that's just to disguise how much she enjoys organising a knees up. A few weeks ago I was feeling rather pleased to have been invited to her friend One-Eye's 50th, which Boxer Girl had insisted on hosting.

"Hey, are you having a Melbourne Cup bash this year?" I asked her.

"Well, I have to, don't I? You've bought a hat!"

And so it came to pass that cheese and champagne was handed around, the oldies danced in a conga line, and Canned Ham did overindulge and overdivulge. I was sober; it was a harsh scene.

Limpid

Somehow, on Friday, an impromptu work lunch was organised. I just got caught up in the flow. It's amazing how silly some people can get after one glass of wine. There'd been some fairly fruity talk around the table and then it turned most sensibly to cricket but was brought back to basics again when one fellow declared, "I've got a third leg."

"More like a middle stump," said Canned Ham.

Things continued on in this vein for some time, me stone cold sober, taking notes and trusting in prudence. I don't know how it happened, but my ears tuned in on the conversation of a pair a little further down the table. I only hoped that what they were talking about wasn't related to the rubbish going on around me, because I recoiled a little when I heard the guy say, "Well, I might as well cut mine off. It's half-dead anyway."

Neither Afraid Nor Petrified

I got on the phone to k. to tell her I thought I'd perhaps seen the Hawt Will Ferrell look alike at the lights as I was driving home.

"Only problem is, he was driving like a Murano or a CRV or something - you know, family man."

"Yeah, those are family men cars. He's probably got kids."

"Three beautiful kids. And, even worse, a wife."

"She'll be blonde and gorgeous."

"Bugger."

"And she'll probably have one of those laughs."

"Ugh. One of those laughs."

"But let's face it, if that's the kind of woman he'd marry, you don't want to be with him."

Then we bickered for a while about the lyrics to I Will Survive. That's how we roll.

On the Cusp

Yesterday my electronic calendar died so I missed a couple of meetings and forgot that I had one in the afternoon. Right on meeting time, I was busy on the phone to New Girl, loudly berating her for confusing me about some stuff, when Canned Ham coughed politely at my office door and indicated the people waiting to see me.

After the meeting I got straight back on the phone to New Girl.

"What a disaster! I mean, the meeting itself was fine but I realised they were sitting at the table facing my desk and just look at it - empty coke bottle fallen over, bits of my lunch everywhere, my handbag tipped over and everything spilling out of it and a site up on the internet that's clearly not work-related."

"And on the upside," she said cheerily, "Not a bra in sight!"

A Separate Peace

Grumpy and I were having breakfast together on the weekend. We'd been keeping it fairly friendly and civilised when Grumpy started whinging about his love life and how he'd never get married again (obviously the first time was too psychologically scarring to contemplate another attempt and thanks for making that clear).

"Would you get married again?" he asked.

"It's not really a goal, but if I met the right guy and he wanted to, well, why not?"

"Of course, it could be awkward explaining to him that you haven't quite got round to divorcing your first husband yet."

Luckily the waitress arrived right at that moment, delivering the bowl of cream I'd had the foresight to order. Hope he didn't get any on his whiskers.

Snake Tales Look

I was driving along with Scarab and goodness knows how it came up but I said to her, "So Jessie Mo's brother wrote this blog for a while which was kind of like a defence of communism."

"What on Earth does that mean?"

"What do you mean? A blog? Communism?"

"No, defensive communism."

"Not defensive communism. I said, 'A defence of communism.'"

"Oh."

"Good one. Yeah, defensive communism: it's a whole new school of martial arts. You disarm your opponents with philosophy." [chops air] "Haaa! Capitalism alienates the worker from the means of production!" [chops air again] "HiiiiiiiiiYA! From each according to his ability, to each according to his need!"

"I think you've made your point."

Sometimes I feel so unappreciated.