oh that's right, I have a blog...

byron loves...

The slightly crazy and extremely lovely woman who offered me lift to the train station in the blistering 10am heat on Tuesday. She turned out to be a Jehova's Witness looking for her doorknock buddies who seemed to have gone missing (The area I live in is heavily populated by Seventh Day Adventists, who are all vegetarians, so I don't think they've been kidnapped and eaten... but possibly held up in a floral wallpapered, doily covered cottage somewhere by a well meaning old lady called Mavis who is feeding them scones and making them watch her old tapes of Paradise Beach and Echo Point while she regales them with tales of her days in the typing pool). Tangent, much? We talked about public transport, the weather and how she was buying a new car. She mentioned nothing of Jehova and the possible witnessing of him. This chance encounter restored my faith in the world a little. I told Munkey... and his response? "Well that's nice. Just don't count on her if you need a blood transfusion."

The entire set of Press Gang DVDs I purchased from the oh so alternative girls with asymmetrical haircuts and at least three facial piercings each at JB HiFi. The girls who didn't want to sell me the box-set because they had just discovered: A) Press Gang had been released on DVD. B) It was the last copy, and... C) They "LOVE PRESS GANG OH MY GOD!!!". Honest to God, you would have though I was trying to buy the last Kaiser Chiefs album or something. Alt-emo angst is so much fun.

Julia at work (who hails from good old N.Z). I was trying to explain what Rent (the musical) was, and she was just looking at me with a slightly perplexed expression on her face. "What are you saying?" she said. I quickly realised the problem and re-phrased my statement. "Rint. The mewsicull. Uz wot Eye sidd." She looked at me, nodded in recognition, having finally understood and called me a "LUTTLE SHUT!".

That this picture actually appears on Paulini's official site.

I love bad wigs.

byron hates...

My boss. Who, like many before him, has developed an inferiority complex because I can do my job better than he can. He's only the "Acting" Team Leader and is terrified of being sent back to the depths of hell (otherwise known as my job). I do my best not to have anything to do with him, but he seems hell bent on pulling faces at me behind my back and ignoring me in team meetings. I do love work politics. It's just like being back in the playground in year six, that time Grace Morris threw a banana at me and I convinced Alex Adolphe to squash it in her hair. Or maybe it's not like that at all. Moving on...

That CityRail ticket office and platform staff earn between $48,621 and $60,231. For doing what, may I ask?

Living a 30 minute walk from the nearest shop. I want chocolate. Chocolate is too far away.

Jamie Foxx and his "hair". I'm reasonably confident that it comes not from the hair follicles on his head, but from an aerosol can. If there's anyone out there whose hairline is also made up of perfectly straight lines and right angles who can demonstrate to me that such things do actually occur in nature, please email me.