Day Its been a while - Annoying people are poos

My 3 year old boy is learning to poo in the toilet. To date, he prefers his underpants. He is somewhere between confused, lazy and/or noncholent. Obviously he is destined for a long career as a middle manager at a third rate government agency. Much like most of the people who read this blog, I suspect.


In order to motivate the little fellow to prefer the toilet to his pants. a "Poo Chart" has been created. For every poo deposited in the toilet, he places a truck sticker on the chart. Simple reward theory. 


As I was cleaning yet another pair of shitty underwear, I began to formulate a theory on how a poo chart might be used to modify the behaviour of annoying people. 


Then I realised that some people are so irritating, it is not worth trying. Greenpeace recruiters on the Terrace come to mind. Too happy and shiny.  


Also, anyone who likes that mythical TV show, "The Wire". I mean really, if it takes 28 episodes to understand what the hell the show is on about, how can it be any good?  


Very fat people. There I said it. The other day my brisk walk into the supermarket was halted by a BMI challenged fatty. His or her's (alas, the 42 inch flat screen ass rendered gender identification impossible) pace in the fruit and vege section would embarrass a sloth.  Of course Mr or Mrs fatty could not turn around to note my irritation because their neck was too thick. Oh the humanity! Thankfully the pace picked up by the cooked chickens. The waft of chicken fat is a powerful motivator. 


Perhaps I'll reward my 3 year old with greasy chicken skin, it could be more successful than stickers. 

Day Indeed - Chats about sausages and Norman the POW

I often stumble into weird conversations with lunatics, well meaning spasies and tetchy old people. I accept my lot. Walking around Island Bay with a cute little girl, a marauding greyhound and a keen sense of the absurd naturally attracts space cadets. 


Take my recent chat with Jason, a halfway house man-child who favours short shorts and colourful beanies. 


Jason: Wow that's big dog
Me: Yep, its a greyhound
Jason: Has she tried to eat your baby?
Me: She is not a Dingo, so no
Jason: I don't like Robbie Deans*
Me: Me neither
Jason: I like sausages


Or my chat with an old lady yesterday. Gladys spied me from across the road. She then took about 30 minutes to get her walker across the pedestrian crossing. This afforded me the opportunity to pop into the cafe for a flat white and to watch the traffic build up. The waiting cars were not amused. I was, though.


Gladys: What a lovely little girl
Me: Thank you
Gladys: She is a bit exotic looking
Me: Yes, she is half Chinese
Gladys: My Albert wouldn't buy any Asian cars or TV's after the war. Couldn't stand those Japs. Albert's cousin's neighbour, Norman was a POW. A cruel race, or so he said.
Me: Indeed
Gladys: Mind you, that Chinese fellow at the Fish n Chip shop is nice. Always gives me an extra bit of  fish so they are not all bad. 


Harmless loonies and bewildered old crones are good fun.  I encourage everyone to have a chat with these folk. It will make their day, and yours too. 




* For those outside New Zealand who don't know about rugby, Robbie Deans is a Kiwi rugby coach who coaches the Australian national rugby team, a traitor of sorts. He is nick name in Australia is "Dingo Deans". 

Day 13(b) cold & wet - Lesbians and Greyhounds

As some of you know, a small horse resides in this Island Bay home - a retired racing greyhound. She skulks around the house indiscriminately whacking things with her super powered tail and trying desperately not to fall over children's toys. 

A greyhound is an amusing creature in itself. But what is more amusing is that some lesbian couples seem strangely irresistibly drawn to this large canine. 

In the course of adopting our miniature horse, we dealt with one likely lesbian couple and suspect another. 

Now it would be tempting to theorise that lesbian couples like retired racing greyhounds because they miss a certain amount of masculinity in the house. After all, the greyhound is a lazy, but lovable dolt who consumes vast amounts of food. Sounds like most blokes to me.

But taking the piss out of lesbians couples is a dangerous game. Gays and lesbians, it seems, are allowed to joke about themselves, but usually take issue at anyone else having a laugh at their expense. That would be discrimination. 

What a pity. Lesbians adopting greyhounds is such rich fodder. 

I prefer the improv comedy mob. They might be freaks and geeks, but at least they can laugh at themselves.