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Re-building the Life of Such.

So it’s been a while… years in fact since I’ve spent any time here. I used to write everything and anything here… since 2005 this was the weird, wonderful and inconsistently irreverent playground of my mind. And then this year, everything crashed – and was gone.

But I found a text file backup. So stick with me – as I slowly pull my posts back together – from 2005 – 2014.

Nine years of LOS madness.

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round two…

As you know my manager has decided to refuse to give me holidays… well it may have escalated a little today.

It ended up being a series of rolling battles at work… He started by listing all the stupid little things that I haven’t managed to do at work because I was busy serving customers while he was sitting out the back picking his nose… important things like moving lolly-bags, or washing a mirror, initialing a form here, recording a number-plate there.

He was picking at me to get under my skin the same way he picked at his nose to remove that speck of nose cheese.

THEN he went off at me and made the comment “I’m used to talking to mature adults, and not having to repeat myself”. I almost grabbed the stapler and attached the word ‘LOSER’ to his over-sized glasses.

After this the feud went OFF. I’ll spare you the details… but in case your interested, a few notes for my manager.

1) How dare you call me immature and complain about having to repeat yourself. I had to repeat myself EIGHT TIMES so you could understand the phrase ‘THE MILK ISN’T SCANNING’ and ‘THAT IS A BARCODE’. Learn to speak English Apu. Seriously, you should be used to having to repeat yourself because literally ZERO of our customers can understand you.

2) Despite your demands to manage my social life with your position – I will not consult with you before I ‘Decide to do something outside of work’. It sounds childish… But you’re not the boss of me!

If you look at your 2 week history at work, You will realize that YOU are borderline incompetent – and I’ve had to train you in every aspect of your job. Because you don’t know your job.

3) Don’t stare at me after saying I cant take time off and wont be reimbursed for cancelling and expect me to give you a hug.

4) Yes… I WILL be taking holidays ‘regardless of the consequences’. Although you don’t know it yet. Because you are waiting for me to change my mind… I, on the other hand are waiting till 2 weeks out from my holiday, when I will quit, leaving you severely understaffed over Christmas and new years.

I have worked every single public holiday in the year without complaint for years, and I want one week off… seriously.

Bring on Round three. Bring it.

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oh, I’m living on the edge…

Sometimes, when I’m typing up a 3000 word essay on the boring topic of ‘Australian History and the conservative nature of its political development’… I like to play a little game of ‘Degree Paper roulette’.

1) Find yourself high on caffeine & typing a major essay the night before it is due at around 2am.
2) Wait until you have typed around 2400 words…
3) Hit the keys “CTRL-A” and then “DELETE”.

Sure, I can hit “CTRL-Z” and get it all back. But it still gets your heart rate up a bit.

Oh yeah…. Living on the edge. Like Britney Spears, but with less chance of getting knocked up by stage dancers…

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round one… FIGHT!

I’m feuding with my new manager at work at the moment. After booking and paying for a holiday driving down to the south coast with friends AND after writing my absence up on the yearly planner AND after clearing it with my previous manager, a note appeared on the board. “NO LEAVE TO BE GRANTED TO ANYONE BETWEEN 15TH DEC TO 15TH JAN”.


I think 6 weeks notice is plenty. Especially since I applied BEFORE they came out with the policy. So like I said, me and my manager are feuding. He wont let me have time off, and says its company policy, even though its all paid for with a month and a half notice. He says to work it out.

I’ll work him out… with a brick

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User friendly my ass.

Despite popular opinion, Apple Mac’s are NOT user friendly. Sure, they might look nice and clean and spiffy, but underneath that ultra-sterilized coloured-egg shaped exterior is nothing but pure evil & ground up baby seals.


I had to do a computer skills test for uni today. On a Mac.
“Sure thing! – Macs are cool…” so I thought… Not even close.

That freaking computer froze five times, FIVE TIMES DURING MY EXAM! The sleek apple god wanted me to fail my exam & spend the rest of my life in PC Purgatory apparently. I had to rebuild my educational lesson / crossword content / Student mail-merge / cloze freaking passage FIVE TIMES!

…and it wasn’t just me either… EVERYONE on the Mac was having these problems… I even had to go so far as to actually disconnect the power-cable from the machine to reboot it.

I was so angry. I didn’t even finish the test…. I was there over an hour, and still couldn’t finish the test. I have to go back and re-sit the test, because these bloody Macs, the machine that ‘Never Crashes / Never gets a virus’ failed me.

Consistently. Repeatedly.

It also didn’t help that I only had 4 hours sleep last night because I was still awake at 4AM doing an assignment… which I handed in today – only to find out that it ISN’T EVEN DUE FOR ANOTHER THREE WEEKS.

…and I was in such a hurry to get to university that my breakfast consisted of a handful of M&M’s and some orange juice – and that was it until after 4PM.

AND THEN DRIVING HOME it was like I was stuck in traffic from the international retarded drivers convention. Apparently there is an entire group of people that believe they are descended directly from a mystical line of Roman Kings that exclusively control the right hand lane and reduce the traffic to the glacial pace of an old lady trying to decide between strawberry & raspberry Jam in the front of the queue at the Cafe…

But what really ticked me off was the way my own body turned against me.

I had this sharp hard piece of snot in my nose all day. ALL DAY. And I couldn’t exactly go gold digging during class & risk being asked a question by the tutors – and having the entire class turn to watch me, waiting for an answer – while I’m staring in the headlights like a Miss Universe contestant who’s been asked to explain the Schrodinger Cat paradox… while being 2 knuckles deep in MY OWN NOSE.

So after showing a Jesus sized amount of self-restraint (I mean – surely that guy wanted to just fireball everyone he encountered)… I drove out of the uni driveway – I used my finger to leverage this little bugger from my nose & flick it away… except when I flicked it away, it didn’t flick away, but flung STRAIGHT UP AT MY FACE and then stuck to my shirt. It took me 3 whole minutes to find it… and OH GOD IT GOT ME IN THE FACE.

Can you feel the veins in my head pumping??? Can you see my eyes twitching???


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…a tough day

It was a tough day teaching in Sydney’s south-west today…

I find that the students tend to be a little restless when there are Police & News Helicopters flying over the school at low levels… all the local roads are closed off, and people are being shot at in the streets in front of students.

Yes. Today was the day of ‘anti-terrorist’ raids in Wiley Park, which is all of about three streets from my classroom. The Muslim population in Western Sydney as a whole seems a little jittery about these raids. The school kids are jittery. The teachers are jittery. One of the suspected terrorists that shot at police, and who ended up being shot BY police actually lived near students in my class. He was shot a block away from the school…

Not only this, there was a bomb scare in the same area… apparently every unattended backpack is a bomb. To further add to the drama, an armoured truck carrying cash in the same area (Green Valley) was the subject of an armed holdup attempt.

To be honest, I’m glad I’ve finished teaching there. The kids have been great – despite throwing the classroom furniture from the windows on my first day, and setting fire to the school playground 3 times on my last day.

Goodbye Busby. I just hope the rest of the Muslim population in the area has the good sense to avoid the violent riots and trouble that has been plaguing Paris for the past week.

Freakin freakin.

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Time to meet the new boss.

So, a new manager started at the store – and it’s been seven whole days of new management now. So it’s high time I remove his ‘settling-in’ privileges, and start remorselessly mocking objectively writing about him here on LoS…

Unsurprisingly, like the other manager, & not unlike the rest of the fuel industry in Australia – he’s Indian, complete with the oversized business shirt, the thickest accent I’ve ever come across, and a mumbling high pitched voice. We have entire conversations that roll on and on, where he apparently complains about me moving the Pen from one side of the counter to the other – and while I try to explain why I moved the pen I’m fairly sure he is mumbling something about lettuce.

He talks like he is constantly biting the side of his tongue. I don’t understand his mouth words, he doesn’t understand English.

Also – Personal space.

Apparently this was written out of our contracts at B.P. under this new manager.

He is totally unaware of just HOW MUCH SPACE he is taking up at any moment in time – and is always walking into people… usually me. And that is when he is moving around the store. Normally he is just sprawled across the console area like a giant spider from Lord Of The Rings so that ABSOLUTELY ZERO PEOPLE can get to the till, customers, phones or cigarettes. And because he’s the manager – it clearly isn’t his job to do any of those things.

Oh, and finally – like my last boss, he has a certain aroma… it’s quite pungent. Seriously. I actually would like to take him outside and roll him around in the garden bed to in a totally non-sexual way just to make him smell a little less like that ‘I didn’t bath this month but still play contact sport every day’ smell. Because being in close confines with him – and having him smell like dynamic lifter and old cigarette butts from our garden would be preferable.

My first experience with the new manager was little scary… somewhat unexpected and definitely disturbing. I was serving customers at the counter & could hear my old & new managers standing behind me – both mumbling & not actually working – while invading my personal space. Also, there was quite a lot of ‘public nose picking’ going on in front of customers apparently – but I only found this out a few minutes later…

…how did I find this out? Well, I finished serving a customer, and turned around from the counter and collided with him. I didn’t want to collide with him – but he was standing RIGHT BEHIND ME.

He wasn’t close in a ‘Oh, sorry there isn’t space on this crowded train & I promise I’m not trying to touch your butt‘ type of way…  he was lurking behind me in the ‘Hi, I’m Gary, & I just got out of prison this week – can I smell your hair?‘ type of close.

The worst thing was, when I turned around & awkwardly bumped into him… almost man-bits touching man-bits – I accidentally bumped his ‘nose-picking’ arm…. the same ‘nose-picking’ arm that at that very moment – was 2 knuckles deep into his left nostril. By the time I finished my spin and accidental shoulder charge, that finger was even MORE firmly jammed in his nostril. To be honest, I’m surprised his wasn’t touching his own brain by the time that finished…

I’m a firm believer that there are certain levels of etiquette that one must have in the workplace. Lets just bypass the obvious ‘DON’T PICK YOUR FREAKING NOSE IN FRONT OF CUSTOMERS / ANY OTHER PEOPLE’. Because its obvious that the newbie does not adhere to that – or the, don’t stand awkwardly close to your staff members… or basically any other kind of etiquette. In fact, he told me off for not being careful. I think he has different rules, like the ‘Don’t move while I’m smelling your hair’ etiquette & the ‘Don’t bump my picking arm’. Because I was mid-pick, that’s just so darn rude. You don’t bump during a pick, you should excuse yourself, and allow them to dig for nuggets until they are satisfied…

So I hereby apologise for turning in a way that would make contact with your picking arm. But if you weren’t trying to touch my butt and smell my hair in that freaky molesting kind of way we wouldn’t have this problem.

And now, I leave for counselling.

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…oh please don’t stop!

I was late to work this morning.

I was 15 mins late because I somehow managed to fall back asleep standing up leaning against the bed. When I woke up again my legs had such bad pins and needles that I couldn’t stand or walk properly, and unfortunately kept tumbling around the floor in my underpants like a drunk gymnast. True story.

So this morning this older gentleman was paying for his fuel, and while I was running the transaction through, he started moaning…

“Ohh.. Ahh… *clears throat…. hmmmm…..”

I looked up, confused.

“Sorry – did you say something?” I thought he may have been having a pleasurable reaction to using Viagra up against the counter, or was enjoying me swipe that credit card through the machine “Oh yeah – swipe that – slower”

He apologised, and began to go into PAINFULLY EXCRUCIATING DETAIL about his stomach bug. He actually used the words “since breakfast it’s really rumbling and uncomfort.. ohh.. ahh… there it goes again”.

The whole transaction was filled with moaning and groaning.
It was like he was having a stomach orgasm. Eww.

Some things I do not need to know.
Others I will write about on the website.

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just add water…

My friends went away for the weekend, and let my good self use their couch and kitchen, their DVD & TV, and for goodness sake EVEN their bathroom! They are so generous. And I took full advantage of that.

As many of you are aware, I can be extremely a little annoying – just a little. But, as the old Native American saying goes, ‘when the cats away, the pigeons will play snooker’ or something like that… so snooker I did.

I found a pair of my mates underpants laying around – and it got me thinking. “What would he love to see when he gets back?”.

After a while, I went to the kitchen & got a milkshake cup, put the undies in it, filled it with water, and put it in the freezer.

Yes. You read right. I am so retarded, that I used my OWN HANDS to pick up his dirty undies and then put them into a kitchen DRINKING UTENSIL THAT IS USED FOR CONVEYING LIQUID INTO PEOPLE’S MOUTHS – for fun.

He doesn’t know this yet, but when he gets home tonight there will be something more than just frozen Ice-cream awaiting him in the freezer.

Does anyone else need their house looked after?. Go on a holiday & enjoy yourselves, just leave me a key to your house, and you too may experience the delights of frozen delicates.

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