fatvegan

Mum has just left to go out with Cherylyn (which I can't spell). I don't have any internet. Or the car. Or even any money, because mum took my last $20. I could go and get some more from the ATM, but it seems more adventurous if I pretend like I can't.

It's interesting trying to think of cool things to do when you have no friends, internet or car. Andy was going to go to a club, but clubs are kind of intimidating. Which is normally OK. But tonight I feel like comfortable. So self-indulgent. I should be out there revelling in the intimidation damn it. Confronting demons doesn't count for shit if you don't do it on quiet nights too.

I started a list of cool things to do. So far I have: -cook something for dinner (except I already have heaps of left-overs) -turn the music up louder than I would if mum was here -read The Economist -watch the ABC -play single player games -go for jog -brush my teeth straight after dinner and just lie on a couch in the living room enjoying the feeling -do somersaults down the hallway (optionally with cushions from the couch I mentioned above, lining the walls (to prevent injury)) -donn gumboots. go outside into the street. hope it rains enough to make the gumboots worthwhile. -ring up ex-girlfriends and have heart to hearts with them -write letters to nasty corporations, suggesting, in the nicest language possible, that they change their ways -vacuum and dust the house (optionally with a dust pan and broom to make the thrill last longer) -reply to some emails (or at least write to people who I can remember have written to me, since I won't be able to read their actual email) -finally ring that girl from David's party -blog into Textpad

So, as you can see, the evening is shaping up to be pretty exciting. And stuff.

The microwave has just finished. Dinner's ready. I'm tempted to take it out of the 4L ice cream container and put it on a plate, but there's no one here to see me.

There's nothing quite as delicious as two different nights' leftovers, woven together into the one glorious feast. I had to mix them together, because Sunday night's Govinda's had no rice, and Tuesday night's spinach and chickpea had too much rice. Even better, there's no table cloth.

I totally forgot the most likely evening activity. Which would be: -wash up

I might start with that one in fact.

The horizon is so good right now.

What a tops storm. I looked for some gumboots but couldn't find any. So I just ran out in bare feet. But then I got scared and came back and waited in the garage for a little while. I remembered that I had to finish the washing up before Tom got here, so I didn't wait long.

There wasn't much washing up, and there's still a sink full of hot piping water. It seems a shame just to leave it there. I could wash the dog. But detergent might be bad for his skin.

I took some photos of the lightning. I sure hope the flash works.

Tom inviting me to the pictures has thrown a spanner in the evening's works. He's here. Got to go.

We went to see Underworld. It was fun. But very silly. Anmol and David came too.

Scenes and lines from Kill Bill keep popping into my head. It's such a tops film I reckon. It might be up there amongst my many second-favourites.

I'm still reading The Orchid Thief. It's so slow. Interesting but slow. It reminds a bit of the posts that Howie and I did about Tinku's adventure in Appin. Every conceivable tangent is followed to it's death.

People who try and be friendly to the opposite sex even when they aren't interested in them are very brave. And it's sad when people get confused. Because it makes it harder and harder to keep being friendly. I suggested this to Tom on our holiday. I used to say pooh pooh at the idea of arm touching, but I'm starting to wonder if it has an important part to play. If touching someone's arm was the one and only code for "I think you're really tops" then it frees up all sorts of other friendly things, like hugs and smiles, for being just friends. You could avoid so much trauma. If I think you're good, then I'll touch your arm. If you think I'm good back then you'll touch mine. Then we both know and we don't need to pretend any more. If I touch your arm, and you don't touch mine then I know you're not interested. And we can stop right there. No crazy conversations with mutual friends. It's so simple. Except I reckon people like it complicated. Because often they're not sure who they think is tops, or precisely how tops. And often they want to act like they think someone's tops just to feel good.

Do you say "poo poo" or "pooh pooh"? I think parents say "poo poo" to their toddlers when they're toilet training them. And "pooh pooh" is the noise that posh people make when something upsets them.