Mofos keep stealing my council supplied bins. There were none when I moved in, so I called the council and requested some new ones. Those disappeared within a month. So I called up again and explained the situation, and managed to get replacements for the replacements, but now my yellow recycling bin has disappeared again. So now I am forced to surreptitiously dispose of my empty bottles and cardboard in other peoples’ bins.

The bins for my neighbours and I are located in the alleyway the runs behind our block. So dropping off a load of trash involves a walk around the block. The last couple of times I dragged my huge box of bottles and cardboard down to the alley, I found all the existing yellow bins were full! Meaning I had to drag the wretched pile of bottles back to my house and store them there for another week.

Alas, as of yesterday it had gotten to the point where my laundry was an unnavigable cesspit of stored empty bottles and cans. I found myself staring at the chaos, and at that moment formed the steely resolve to correct the situation, that night!

And so, still wearing my black kung fu uniform (I’d just gotten home from sanshou class), under the cover of night, I trudged around the block with a massive load of recyclables, and sure enough, every yellow bin in the alleyway was filled. I went down an adjacent alleyway and their bins were filled to overflowing as well.

Then, I noticed that my as-yet unstolen red rubbish bin (for regular garbage) was nearly empty. My mind heavy with defeat, I reasoned that just this once, surely, there were extenuating circumstances that would justify not recycling? Enviro-guilt welled up in my throat like bile, but I quickly swallowed it down.

Before I had a chance to change my mind, I dumped the bottles into the red bin and slammed the lid shut. Dusting off my hands I looked up, to meet the gaze of my neighbour, on her balcony, shaking her head and staring at me like I just clubbed a baby seal…

…and left behind in a bakery on Enmore Road

It’s the first summer in my new flat, and I am discovering some unadvertised features of the property.

My bedroom is positioned in a direction (east, presumably) that causes the sun to stream in first thing in the morning, and it gets really, really hot. Thanks to the thin white lacey curtains, it also gets kind of bright, which is particularly unpleasant when waking up with a hangover.

I tried to remedy this by hanging up large black sheets behind the lace curtains, which worked fine during the grey winter months. But now Summer is here and that bastard of a sun has bleached them light purpley grey in a matter of weeks.

It occurs to me that instead of absorbing the light with black curtains, I could reflect it. With enough aluminium foil I could cover the two windows easily. The bonus here is because I am not absorbing the light, it doesn’t get transferred into heat.

There are downsides to this scheme though.

1. I can’t easily remove the foil when I do actually want some natural light.

2. People in my neighbourhood will think I’m a crazy tinfoil-on-windows guy, trying to block the alien mind control transmissions.

and most concerning;

3. The light may be reflected into the windows of the flat across the street, and possibly set their curtains on fire.

Points 2 and 3 could really make me unpopular in my neighbourhood, but then again this is driving me crazy. Maybe I will just crash on my own couch in the living room for the summer and be done with it.

I have noticed I say “cool bananas” quite a lot. As in “You want to meet at 7? Cool bananas!”

I also say “sweet” alot, for usage refer: Dude, Where’s My Car?

I’ve decided to put my own spin on this, so I now just say “sweet potatoes!”. This incorporates “sweet” with a different food reference, in a new and exciting way. I am now peppering my conversations with sweet potatoes in the hopes it will catch on. “You want to meet at 7? Sweet potatoes!” Feel free to use it yourself, you might be surprised how deliciously it rolls off the tongue.

Don’t you love it when for some reason, someone needs to tell you a password they made up, and it becomes clear they never expected to actually say out loud? I love the way they break down the letters, it usually goes something like this…

“OK click on `Internet banking’”

“Uh huh”

“Account number is 2046629″

“Yep. Password?”

“Capital I, L, lower O, V…”

“Yeah”

“E, T, O, D, R, E…”

“Mmm hmm…”

“S, S, U, P, L, I…”

“Yep”

“K, E, A, B, A, B, Y, A…”

“OK”

“N, D, G, E, T…. [cough]”

“Mmm hmm?”

“S, P, A, N. Oh and I guess then there’s a K, and an E, and then a D.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“OK, I’m in. Cool. So, you like to dress up like a baby and get spanked? What’s that all about?”

“…”

“Its very good don’t you think?” he said.

“Sure!” I replied.

Adjusting his beret: “I think it represents ‘lame duck’. i.e. George Bush, yes?”

“Yeah… or maybe he just like roadrunner cartoons.”

I was taken to a business lunch at the fancy-schmancy Nicks Seafood for lunch by one of our vendors. We were waist deep in a conversation about virtualisation products and clustering software when something caught my eye out on the boulevard that runs along Darling Harbour.

One of those cute little mini trains that tourists ride with their kids was zooming past, and I noticed there was a dude in a wheelchair holding onto the rear carriage, hitching a ride, having the time of his life.

Suddenly he mis-steered and came crashing out of his wheelchair at high speed! Half a dozen other wheelchair guys rolled up and helped him back into his wheelchair but it was an extremely awkward process, they dropped him back onto the ground a couple times. I guess them’s the breaks when you lead such a Pepsi Max paraplegic lifestyle.

Label of “One Serious Rose” 2005, Domain Day, Mt Crawford:

Years of writing descriptions for back labels have left me convinced that this energy is more gainfully employed in growing grapes and making wine.

What is a serious Rosé? Does it corner you at parties and discuss Dostoyevsky?

• The Gotye gig was superb. Attention punters, throwing the horns of rock and pogo’ing is only necessary if there is (1) electric guitar or (2) bangin’ techno involved. Honestly, it just makes you look silly.
• Always check pockets before doing your laundry. Apparently Sony phones don’t like being put through the wash
• Charlie Sheen is engaged, and is thankful comedians are no longer mining his private life for monologues, thanks to Lindsay Lohan and the rest of the Slapper Pack. I mention this only as an excuse to use the new “CharlieSheen” tag.