I Fuckin' Love You Guys....

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


My lovely wife's best friend from their university days came up from Sydney for a surprise visit over the weekend. It was only a surprise for my wife - I'd been scheming with her friend for over a month (I can be very sneaky when required...). I had arranged for them to go to a day spa on Saturday morning, to get massaged and pampered and wrapped in seaweed (or whatever goes on in those places), to be followed by a nice lunch and some shopping, while I looked after our two year old daughter for the day.

The girls came back later that afternoon with piles of shopping bags, scrubbed clean, smelling nice, beaming smiles & very relaxed. I suspect they were also a little drunk. They'd had a fabulous day, they said, and were appropriately grateful and happy and excited about all the new crap they'd bought.

Meanwhile, Yoyo & I had gone on an "adventure". We were out the door two seconds after the girls had left; first stop: The Train. Yoyo is fascinated by the train. She's been on before, but only a few times, as we usually drive everywhere we can't walk. So when we got to the train station, I think she realised Daddy was serious about this being an "Adventure". We bought our ticket from the machine, and only waited a few minutes before the loudspeakers announced "The next train on platform 2 will arrive in two minutes...". I don't know if this happens to all 2-year-olds, but any time an announcement comes on over a loud speaker, Yoyo's eyes get huge, like God Himself is talking. It probably doesn't help that I look wildly around and ask her - "Who was THAT!?!?".

We walked through Brisbane Square, and Yoyo had to run around and touch every piece of sculpture, and chase every pigeon (yelling "Go Away!!"), we carefully navigated The Bridge and played in the huge kids area they have at the State Library, and walked though the Gallery of Modern Art (she warned everyone who passed by a big steel sculpture that it was "very, very dangerous"), and we had lunch, and chased more pigeons, and the little maniac passed out on the train ride back home (probably from sheer excitement).

My wife felt happy & special from her spa treatment - but I reckon mine was better.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Egg on face

So embarrassing. We went to a bbq at some friends' house, and one of my friends asks "what's the meaning of the word plebs? or plebes? and is it 'pleeb' or 'pleb', or 'pleebeh'".

I very confidently told her that the word had it's root in the ancient Greek "plebian", and it means "the common people".

We had a nice little chat about it - how you'll know a word, and know what it means, and see it from time to time in books and magazines and such, but you've never actually said it out loud before, and the first time you do, you mis-pronounce it, and the person you happen to be chatting with just happens to know the word, and immediately corrects your mis-pronounciation, and you feel like a bit of a jackass for a second.

Well that was my friend - and I made her feel like a dork, and I felt really bad, because she's a great mate. She was very gracious, and we had a good laugh, and as we stood there, she pulled up the word on dictionary.com and read the definition out loud.

I knew it meant "the common people", but it is from the Latin; it's Roman. 30 seconds earlier, I had lectured everyone in earshot about the Ancient Greeks, their system of government, and blah blah blah.

Lessons learned:
1. I know some things about stuff, and I can speak with great authority, very convincingly, when I know that I am absolutely correct.
2. I am full of shit.
3. I am a nerd.

Okay, #3 wasn't so much a lesson learned as a lesson remembered, but you get the point.