The Seret Lives of Us

It has been a while since my last post. Partly because work has been busy. Partly because I'm uninspired. Mostly because I wonder what I should write about. Sure it's fun to talk about funny life moments and bizarre thoughts...but what if your head is filled with serious stuff? Do people really want to hear about that?
Most of you are also readers of MD and Al's blogs, so you will already be aware that although MD has deservedly found herself a wonderful man, both Al and I have recently lost ours.
It's sad, so sad, it's a sad, sad situation....
However, I will not delve into that now. What I would like to talk about are Random Acts of Kindness (RAK's) and how they happen at the moments when you need them most.
Al told us yesterday of a RAK that happened to him whilst on the train to work (I'll leave it up to him if he wishes to share the details), but it reminded me that through some of the toughest moments in my life, a RAK has occurred.
I recounted the time in my life, when at my first job in a pet shop, I turned up on the morning of a public holiday (so I was by myself) to feed the puppies, only to find 3 of them had died (viruses spread very quickly in a pet shop). Obviously I was distraught, but dealt with it, and then had to make a train journey home. On the train, I sat opposite a boy (about my age at the time - 16) who was writing in a folder. Every now and then he looked at me and smiled, then would go back to writing in his folder. When he got up to get off at the next station, he ripped out the piece of paper and handed it to me. Didn't say anything, just gave me the piece of paper and got off the train. It was a letter "to the beautiful sad lady sitting opposite". Nothing untoward was said, the main message being "I wonder what has made you sad today, and I hope that your day gets better...". No contact details left. That letter did make the rest of my day better.
Then there's today. Although I try and at least start every day in a positive way, I just woke up feeling....blah. It lasted all morning, until lunchtime, when I was waiting in a rather long line to be served. A man behind me (that smelt of Winfield Reds, and VB), says to me "Smile Love!". I turned around ready to belt him, and saw his toothless smile behind his bushy, stained beard - and I couldn't help but smile back at him. With a few more trivial words between us, I got my lunch and wished him a good day.
And what about the RAK's from friends? The spontaneous coffee "meetings" scheduled during a tough work day, the "R U OK?" text messages just when you need them, and the sacrificing of public holidays and Saturdays with your boyfriend to spend time with a friend in need. It reaffirms to me that the relationship that MD, Al and I have, goes far beyond a "work thing".
We're in it together now.

Cookie Vs Cake

So, those of you that regularly follow Miss Diarist's antics, should by now have a good idea of the concept of cake. However, I would like to further the conversation and perhaps even invite further comments.

As MD recently blogged, we did need to have the discussion of "if cake is sex, what is kissing?" And we decided that a cookie would be the appropriate euphemism. This in turn made my "Pash Pal" the "The Cookie Monster".
However, the conversation didn't stop there.
What MD didn't know, is that later that night, when Dallas and I were reunited with the interstate work colleagues for dinner, we systematically observed each dessert that was ordered, and interrogated it's orderer:

"Mark, is that a tart you ordered? Can you tell me, is it a sweet tart, or is it a tart tart?"

"Johnno, I do believe they are profiteroles - was there a reason in ordering such extravagance? And do you prefer fresh, or whipped cream?"

We thought we were hilarious! Our colleagues perhaps thought we were a little strange (or drunk)...

The evening progressed, and with a few more wines consumed, The Cookie Monster proposed to take me back to his hotel room. Deciding that I was full on cookies, and that cake was not in my best interests, I snuck in one last lingering kiss and left him adjusting his crotch on the corner of Flinders and King St's.

The next day at training I was receiving the look of death from The Cookie Monster. Needless to say, there was no more childish kissing to be had, and he left at the end of the day to spend his last night in Melbourne with his sister. Feeling a little guilty that perhaps I had lead him on, and we weren't on the same page, I thought an explanatory text message was in order:

"Sorry I didn't want cake, I was quite content with cookies. I guess your appetite is bigger than mine right now...."

To which he replied: "WTF are you talking about?!?"

So anyway, this use of euphemisms got me thinking: Could we invent a new language that coded words in baked goods alone? Or would we need to introduce fruit and vegetables or other produce to complete the picture?

I only really thought about this because I was later questioning my decision not to take the cake. I decided that it was because what I really wanted, was my favourite spongecake that was recently discontinued at my local bakery......and I could surely talk about his buns and cookie dough 'till the cows come home....

To finish up, you will be pleased to know that I did have quite a raunchy dream about The Cookie Monster the following week. Unfortunately, work etiquette made me feel it not such a good idea to divulge such intimate information to him over the work email, so all I mentioned to him was "a dream with you in it". He demanded more information:

"Let's just say, I had my cake, and ate it too".

Apparently I am now officially a tease. And, I think he has now figured out what cake is.

Yup...I went there....

I kissed a work colleague....and I liked it.
Of course, I open this post in such a way as this will be of great shock value to MD and Al.
I have been away from the office this week, attending a training session for work (which will make this even more infuriating for MD and Al as they cannot debrief with me - though I'm sure to expect an "Emergency Meeting" request for next week through my Blackberry the moment I hit "post" on this). This training also incorporates all the other people at the organisation who do what I do at work, but in other states (STS). It is the fact that this person lives outside of Melbourne that I use to justify not one, but two nights of childish pashing (and the anticipation of another two before he boards the plane home). Surely it's OK to pash a guy you technically work with, if he lives interstate?
It's not that it's serious - just an ego boost really. I'm only a recent recruit to the single life, so I use the great advice of people in the know about relationships...namely Sally (as in, When Harry Met Sally) who quite rightly says: "He's supposed to be the transitional man, he's not supposed to be the one". And although the context is different, I figure I can use that to my advantage. Isn't it a good idea to get the transitional guy out of the way so that you can make room for the one?
Maybe it's even simpler than that. As Dallas said to me tonight: "do you just need some cake"?

Litterally

Waiting in line to be served at Priceline the other day, I overheard the checkout lady ask the customer in front of me if she would like a free gift - to which the customer replied a flat "no" (I did not see what the gift was, as I was too distracted by the 30% off manicure products sale to my left).
I got to the counter, and the checkout lady then asks me if I would like a free gift (while pointing to a small make up bag). Thinking that you can't get something for nothing these days, I said:
"Sure, how does it work?" (read: do I have to sign up to your club or buy something that is not even close in value to the cheaply china made makeup bag).
Without missing a beat, she replies: "It has a zip in the top you can open like this (she demonstrates) and pop your makeup inside...."
Yes, she was being serious.

Taxi Tales

With MD and Al both posting blogs about taxi rides, I would like to join in on this particular subject. While they both spend much time in taxi's - my role demands I spend most time in taxi's. This, I believe, allows me to be quite the expert on taxi capers.
Whilst I am fortunate enough to not have been in a situation such as MD found herself in, I can certainly relate to Al and the fear he holds for his life when entering into the yellow capsule. It's like Russian Roulette - we may have survived thus far, but one day that bullet will come up. It's incomprehensible that these people are trusted with our lives and hold such little regard for this small fact.
As well as the dangerous driving, there is also the dangerous environment. I've been in a cab where the driving was OK, but the state of the cab made me grateful that I always have a travel size Dettol sanitizing gel in my handbag. Seriously. The vinyl seats were ripped, the back vents were non existent, gaffa tape was holding several things together, and the roof (and pretty much everything else) was covered in grubby hand marks. How is this allowed? What if I was new to Melbourne and this was my first experience of a taxi? Not acceptable! I regret that in my haste to leave the taxi, I didn't get the taxi number to report it.
Then there is the problem of the smelly taxi. This has happened on several occasions. I'm not talking about "unpleasant", I'm talking about "I don't care if it's snowing outside, I'm opening all 4 windows because I need the air (and possibly somewhere to vomit)". Again, not acceptable.
And here's a new one: The taxi with no fuel. This week alone I have been in 4 cabs that have their petrol light on. One even loudly beeped the whole 30 minute journey as if begging it's driver to hydrate it. How the driver ignored this I do not know, but it made my journey most unpleasant as I resisted the urge to tell the driver to fill up just to stop that blasted beeping! I mean it's stressful enough not knowing if I'm going to make it to my destination alive, let alone with the added stress that if I do make it, I'll be late because the driver had to pull into a Caltex....

Indivi-dual-ity

Words...have you ever thought about them? I mean, we use them all the time, but really, the beauty of words is that most of us don't even think about how we use them - they just....get used. Some are over used. I work in a corporate world, and I can tell you (moving forward), that some words (in the current climate) get so over used (so to speak), that they loose all meaning. Most meetings, phone calls, emails & memo's could take half the time if such superlatives were just omitted. If we have to use so many words in a day, could we not (at the very least) find new words to replace the old? It really would make the work place so much more educational. I mean, thesaurus's were invented for a reason...
I think of this because I do work with some very intelligent people. I work very closely with a migrant (we'll call her Dallas), who - despite her not arriving in Australia until 3 years ago - has a better grasp on the English language than I do. This perturbs me somewhat. Instead of saying "we get along together as the relationship works for the both of us" she will instead say "we share reciprocity".
Then there are the other two characters you probably know - MD and Al.
MD has almost been banned from Friday night quiz. As if her English wasn't good enough, she can also answer in another - somewhat exotic - European language (not sure if you'd like me to give away what this language is MD- is that getting too personal?). Then she could probably tell you the country of origin of where that question came from, and the history of any related fact...anyway - MD just has a way with words.
Then there is Al. He walks up to my desk ranting and raving about whatever the latest thing to rant and rave about is, and somehow manages to throw "duplicitous" into his descriptive. This made me feel somewhat offended, and at the same time, in awe of the somewhat adventurous use of such a descriptive adjective (tautological I know, but I like to get my point across doubly so).
Oh words.....don't even get me started on double entendre's, oxymoron's, acronyms and thing-a-lings...and what's the word for when you put two words together and somehow it makes sense (read: "Spork = implement that converges spoon and fork)??

Joining the crew

So, I too have joined the blogging crew. I was starting to feel a little left out.
MD hadn't written about me in a while (and I missed myself), and now Al has gone all literary on us and found a new calling in his blog. So, I thought....if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!
It does raise all sorts of questions though. I know MD has always kept her identity private (and of those who appear in her blog - did you really think my name was Deb?), and I think that's wise. Al too, has kept an air of intrigue in his identity and background. I think it's a good idea to keep people guessing. I'll give you and example:
MD and I attended a training course the other day. It was pretty wanky. I won't tell you the content of the course, but it's basically recognising that different people have different personalities and styles which may be different to yours. I get along with most people, but for some reason, I just don't get along with this facilitator. I find her hypocrytical, and well, just sometimes downright annoying (my issue I know!). So when, at the end of the day, she challenged me, then stated "you know Deb, I haven't figured you out yet" - I thought "good, I'm not here to be figured out!"
So, coming back to my point, I look forward to holding a sense of annonymity and hope I don't get "figured out"....