50/50 Chance of death.

"We used to come here a fair bit until we kept finding bits in our food. On our last occasion, my wife found a piece of steel wool in her curry. We would not return."


We went next door for dinner instead.

What's it going to be, a glass of fly kick to the stomach?

I believe our guest's neurotic characteristics have increased over the last few days. Let's blame the weather.

Firstly a chap walked out with his wife, disgusted with us that we didn't pour a rose by the glass (we pour a Gamay). Another douchebag stuck his nose up at us for pouring a relative "mediocre" Barossa Valley Shiraz (it's actually a blend of Shiraz/Grenache made by one of our best wine makers, Ben Glaetzer, as per Robert Parker himself). Than received an email from an upset guest from the previous Friday night, complaining about my colleague and I basically calling her fat, painting us as the bullies back in the school grounds laughing behind her back. Than had a lady come chasing after me down the back of the shop demanding more wine in her glass, as I had under poured her, compared to her friend. Than a couple looked at me funny when I gave them their cheque after they had sat at the table with not even a water glass in front of them, for the last half an hour.

Wake up people. Your not the only human beings trying to live in this god forsaken small universe.

Rad

You gotta love a great party weekend. There was really no intention of it running this outrageous course, but oh yes, in style it did. I can't remember the last time I felt so comfortable within my own home, with my dearest friends, in my own skin, as I have this weekend.

Highlights: Eating junk food, drinking stout, watching the third season of Battlestar Galactica and not feeling like a sci-fi loser. Dancing my pants off at the one and only, Leo's party. Laughing at the four interpretations of what a pound meant in context to Anna's personal needs. Watching our cat act like a teenage boy all weekend. Talking through the worlds problems until 8am, with one of the few people I know who listens to me. Being a great listener and learning more about the people I thought I knew quiet well. Watching Iggy pop youtube vids. The first couple I meet at a party are the only musicians in the room, and on top of that, the finest up and coming opera singers this country has to date. Organising our Spring French soiree. Reading about Massolino wines and deciding I need to marry into a Cru family.


Life’s pretty rad at the moment. Well worth a live.

The more I think about it, the more I should not post this.

Ah bugger it.......

I am new to the world of someone really hating the every fibre of your being, than turning around and thinking your ace.

If you’re sent a message saying never contact me again, due to circumstances you have had a losing hand at, than naturally, you respect their wishes. But to than for this sad human being to turn up my work, my local for coffee, one of the few bars I frequent, and totally act like everything is fine and dandy is just not the way I roll.

I’m always confused with even the most basic of gestures. A I meant to lean for a kiss on the cheek, or offer an invite for the seat next to me?

The interesting part of this whole scenario is that firstly, I still get along really well with all of my ex's. Secondly, this douche bag isn't even ex at all, more like a lost sheep. So where on earth does he get off making me feel like an ex-lover who has destroyed his life, when really I was the one who lucked out the most.

I am therefore lead to believe, and it's taken me long enough, that he really has been playing me. Seeing if I'll slip up and come crawling back. Nice try buddy but I'm on to you.




I wonder if he'll ever read this and realise it's about him. "Your so vein...."


Yours truly.

PS I understand this post to be most frustrating to any reader. Not much sense really to be made out of it, other than for the benefit of myself. This was really just a mind vomiting exercise to make me sleep better.