Medium rare

There is a great lot of interesting people on the train today (2/12/05). Man + bike + suit, who has strapped helment onto the seat rail.

Two older ladies, one looking quite unnatural with a beige polar fleece beanie – she is complaining in halting phrases how someone refuses to go and see a movie with her, and her willingness to give any surpluss money to the other more normal woman should she need it. I can’t work out if they are friends or have just met.

There is a middle aged Italian couple who got on holding hands. They look vaguely familiar. Their language is a pleasant background behind my ears that are full of Relient K. English is a harsh language.

There is the girl sitting opposite me. Australian? She asked the old woman beside me what was the central station. The woman got it wrong. I interuppted, “Flinders Street”. She is going to the art gallery – I wish I was, instead of working. She has a very round face and interesting clothes.

Yesterday a slightly more vocal member of the public made a comment, “There goes another badly bred, uneducated person of lilydale.” It does, I admit seem to be a place taht attracts bogans.

Sam asked me the other day if I prefered white collar or blue collar (guys I believe she was refering to). A slightly amusing question that carries the generalisations of 6kg bricks.

White collar.

Lilydale is a blue collar kind of town.

There is an old man with a little face, tiny eyes, non-prominent nose and a blue beanie like a tea cosy. He has one of those cheerful faces as if he couldn’t not smile even if he tried. He frowns and it still looks like he is smiling. The beanie is too big for his head, if he bent over I think it would fall off.

Umbrellas are walking sticks, black and colourful, useful outside, a prop for your arms inside and a nuisance to close. Umbrellas are indiscriminant.


I realise with ammusment that one of the supposed umbrellas is infact a walking stick. The old man makes it out the door just in time.

In the city when you are tramming your only ever see drivers with passengers not on their phones. The rest have this limited form of communication plasterd to whichever ears is most convienient.

Hehe. “Okay, so who doesn’t own a cell phone?” (RK comes on)

Last night’s MBO Christmas party was held at the Stokehouse.

I had a sore back from sitting too long and eating too late (a bit hyper, not the jump up and down kind, the “I need food” kind). Site surveys about 29 of them (the worst thing to do at work really), the majority whom I couldn’t get on to. Yet another nice round conclusion, this was my last day offically at MBO, I started work on the 6th of January doing the exact same thing.

Mel got back from the US this morning Cam looked rather pleased to have her back. Paul just got back also, first time I’ve seen my boss in months, I think jet lag was crowding his brain. Shannon mentioned her friend has convinced her to do an Alpha course next year. Interesting.

So, dinner. The place was packed (not with just us), very loud. Talked to Ian and Anne a bit and got a seat between LongVan and Dad. Noise was good in that it didn’t mean you had to talk the whole time, besides, LongVan is fine to talk to, I know her so well. My stomach started hurting like nothing else part way through either due to food, sitting too long or eating too much. Restaurants are frustrating in the fact you feel somewhat obliged to eat a good portion of your plate.

I was incredibally happy when dad decided he’d drive home (despite my non-drinking anything so I could drive as originally planned), seeing as I was in stupid irrational pain and dead tired – not that I let him know.

I really don’t like steak I’ve decided. I always forget that the world thinks the best way to have it is medium rare and then I reach the dismayed point where it arrives just like that on my plate – cook it properly! There is something so entirely unappealing about blood dripping onto your plate and into your chips – most people had the steak. The entree was wonderfully good – flat bread and dips except the bread was !!!!. I ate so much of that I had a good excuse not to eat all the steak. Desert was cherry pie thing, I was too full by then to appreciate its niceness. I don’t really want to eat steak again.

Went to bed straight away. Felt nice to be able to crawl in and lay flat on my back without the intrustion of late night msn or blogging. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have time to think while you go to sleep. I generally prefer not to, aim of late nights: wear self out so I sleep right away or I end up lying there for hours. Sometimes I think maybe I should break habits a little more often.

Oh yes.
The day I finish up at MBO is the day I hear about Dymocks. I start on Wednesday. This is good! This also means I will have no life for the next while, I’ll be working pretty much full time up until/over Christmas.

Today is free. Nothing at all. A rarity indeed.

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