ears go boom

Since I handed in my notice (which was lovely fun), my work ethic has gone entirely down the gurgler. Somehow you really cease to care how broken things are, or if the department undergoing a restructure, when it won’t affect any of your plans. Through all the crashing servers and hair-pulling tension in management, all I can do is sit around with a smarmy grin on my face and drink coffee. The day after I burst the bubble I went along to a fancy dress party for someone I know, which was good fun and a chance to have a yarn. I got pegged as designated driver by my roommate, which was fine since I can’t drink anyhow, but it’d been a while since I’d driven a clunky old lump like her Colt, so the poor thing suffered a bit for the the first half of the journey there. I guess I’m too used to motorcycles with six plate clutches and which don’t start moving until they get to 5000rpm.

I went out for a ride that Sunday, which was a good idea right up until it decided to get stinking hot. Unfortunately one of my riding friends tried to take a corner too fast and had a little bingle. He was fine, which is the important thing, but his bike was a little roughed up. A bit of bush mechanics and some electrical tape later, and it was alright to ride home.

After many early morning sessions of cursing, Katy got hold of the council info about complaining about roosters. Apparently it’s legal to have one rooster (even in suburbia) provided it doesn’t breach EPA noise limits. So to get something looked at, you have to write a letter to the council, who then send an environmental protection fella out with a decibel meter so he can record how loud it is. I don’t know how they do it, I mean whether they do a rooster stakeout for 24 hours in a covert op, or whether the guy comes along and kicks it until it starts making some noise. Either way, the quick solution is still to cover it in Nando’s sauce and let the dogs in the neighbourhood out of their yards.

Finding a new place is turning out to be a bit of a trial as well, but that’s another boring story.

Of course yesterday was the Big Day Out, which was great fun (Although the temptation of a handful of fifties in exchange for my ticket after they sold out on Friday was rather strong). After losing three of the four people I came with before we even got through the gate, Steve and myself did some quick recon of the grounds which included getting free magnets, lollipops and condoms (in case you get the Big Guy out at the Big Day Out *boom tish*). Shortly after, we ran into Simon, and after sussing out the merch tent, watched a huge fella at the Lilypad insult passers-by and question the sexual preferences of Slipknot fans before we wandered down to the main stage since I wanted to check out The Donnas. It ended up being one of the highlights of my day really, one thing I really love in a live show is energy, and even if the riffs are simple along with the lyrics, I guess deep down I just love my white trash rock music. On the polar opposite end of the scale, Spiderbait played great, but they didn’t have the crazy charismatic feeling that gets me into live gigs, it was still tops to finally hear them play though. Grinspoon were just as good as I remember them, along with Powderfinger.

My big surprise of the day however was Slipknot. Normally I don’t really get much into Slipknot. I only have so much love for the Rowr-rag-a-mug-room-a-bomm-argh-yea-nyah metal sound, but their live show absolutely sold me. Even if I could hardly decipher most of the lyrics, with eight or nine fellas on stage blasting out the sound (including three percussionists) I got completely sucked into it and was just soaking it up. It was really a brilliant show. Comparatively, the stage looked somewhat bare when the four members of System of a Down took the floor, but moshing to some of the tunes from Toxicity has been a long time coming for me, and they played a top set as well. We saw bits and pieces of other bands during the day, but those were the ones I enjoyed the most, not forgetting the impressive Crusty Demons freestyle motocross demo, which while an awesome show to watch, is one of those careers I’m content to let somebody else do the legwork for. I don’t think I could look a nurse straight in the eye and explain that I was bleeding because I missed a beat when letting go of my backwards-facing dirtbike while thirty feet in the air.

But for now it’s back to my remaining fourteen days of work and stalking real estate agents to secure a new shelter.

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