Day Monday night - A poignant moment at New World

Poignant moments are few and far between at my local New World Supermarket. Once a stack of lettuces fell on a fat women. The irony was not lost on her fellow shoppers. 


All that changed last Monday night.


It was a dark and stormy night. The wife dispatched me to the New World to buy women's sanitary products. It was emergency, apparently. I didn't argue.


As I confidently searched for the appropriate product, a young man shuffled nervously bedside. He was bewildered. Clearly he was out of his depth. I was happy to assist.


Me: You right there mate?
Young bloke: Nah, been sent down here to get some pads, I've got no fucking idea which ones she wants
Me: OK, has her period just started?
Young bloke: Must have eh. She seemed pretty grumpy 
Me: Did she say exactly what she wanted?
Young bloke: Yeah pads, but I didn't know there would be so many bloody pads (he didn't notice the pun)
Me: My guess is she has just started so she will want these heavy duty overnight ones
Young Bloke: Cheers mate
Me: No worries


Proficiency in pad buying comes with at least five years of marriage. One must also learn to listen to your wife's instructions and follow the Simpsons repeat at the same time. Difficult, but achievable. 






  

Day 45(b) - The Reverse Pregnancy Walker

Wellingtonians are a strange breed. None stranger than the Wellington walker. These are people who insist on walking to work, even in crap weather. The wife and I observed a few as I drove her to work last Thursday:


The Trudger: Face like a pummelled pear. As bitter as the weather. Just spent 28 hours on a broken down train from somewhere on the Kapiti Coast. Some may pity them. Not me though. If you chose to live in Paraparaumu (or anywhere in Johnsonville or Tawa for that matter) you have given up on life.


The Reverse Pregnancy: This fellow places his raincoat not only on himself, but also over his backpack. This results in an odd hump. Of course the contents of the backpack are hardly worth protecting. Last night's left over pasta and a library book (or the Economist if you are an upstart young policy analyst). 


The Sneaker Brigade: Even the most stylish Wellington girls ditch the heels for the sneakers. Practical, yes. But its a bit like pouring instant gravy over Kobe beef. Indeed, this might sum up all Kiwi girls, but that is another blog for which I will burn happily in hell for.  







  














  

Day 78 - Food lists and goth girls

Facebook has a new application thingy, "100 foods to try before you die". Friends proudly proclaim how many of the global delicacies from the list they have sampled. It all seems very competitive. 

It is rather like blokes tallying the number of women they have nailed. I guess food lists are more tasteful. 

What about a list of 100 women you should sleep with before you die. Far more relevant to the my fellow blokes. Aspirational too. 

I reckon it would look something like this:

(1) A "D" list celebrity. You know the kind, "Kazzer" the morning host on Masterton's XFM. Great voice, but chunky in real life.

(2) A goth girl. Preferably in a cemetery, but the back bedroom of a skanky university flat is acceptable.

(3) Your mate's sister. Just don't tell your mate. Or do, if you feel like getting punched.

(4) Any French girl. Looks don't matter here. Its all in the accent. Indeed for most of the list, looks don't matter, its an aspirational experiences list. 

(5) Any of your ex's close friends. Awkward and messy, nevertheless excellent.

And so on. Obviously some women will view this as a very sexist list. The annoying feminist is number 78 on the list. Only for the enthusiast.   

 

Day %$&!!%^* - Hell is other people

Having travelled Wellington's buses for sometime, I categorise passengers into the following groups:


(1) Idiots: Passengers still paying with cash rather than Snapper cards. Usually, they cause several would be passengers to get battered by Wellington's wind and rain for another few minutes. 


(2) Blockers: These are passengers who stand in the centre of the aisle. They do not move to the back of the bus when the bus becomes congested with standing people at the front. Apparently having to shuffle six paces backwards is just too hard. One day I am going to kick one of these blockers in the crotch. Except I wouldn't be able to because there would be no room (caused by aforementioned blocker). Life is cruel.   


(3) Martyrs: Passengers who are standing on a full bus. When a seated passenger departs the bus, these Martyrs remain standing and refuse to sit down. This prevents others from sitting down. Madness. 


All Idiots are Idiots. Not all Blockers are idiots, but can be Martyrs. All Martyrs are by definition Blockers. 


Sage Uncle Dave is a 60 something civil servant with a small but loyal following. His advice knows no filter nor sensitivity. His great saying, "hell is other people" aptly describes riding Wellington buses.