I reckon Melbourne’s water table could be significantly saved by just one simple implementation.

Put heavy restrictions on my spastic neighbours. Y’know, the ones that need to wash anything and everything washable, every single day. They’re already talking about metering heavy users of electricity over the coming years due to grid capacity shortages, so why not for rate-paying water users.

There are restrictions/bans already in place that forbid washing cars and whatnot, so I think a Dumbasses-next-door restriction should be placed on my neighbours. Perhaps extend it for other ignorant and wasteful neighbours, but start off specifically with mine 🙂

Oh, and while we’re at it, put a fine system in place for “ignorance towards others through lack of consideration on closing doors.” Either that, or let me kick out choones at high volumes throughout the night and straight into their apartment.


So, what of this Elmer? Well, it’s a nickname I’ve come up with for a guy at work. He’s old, tall, a dork, depressing, has a lisp and tone of voice that sounds like Elmer Fudd, and to cap it off, has a New Zealander accent. I think my nephews are more mature than this guy. He gets reprimanded or tweeted badwy by others in the office and proceeds to mope around and rudely treat people that had nothing to do with it.

Not to mention his great rorting of the system where he waits until he’s in at work, and proceeds to call home and conference in family, makes all manner of personal calls booking flights, getting his curtains cleaned, et cetera. The guy is unbelievable! And all this after he’s been repeatedly reprimanded for rorting!

I’m not normally this picky. I wouldn’t normally care. But in a helpdesk-style phone environment, it gets annoying that I’m taking all network calls while he yaps away in this quiet, annoying little whimpering tone to whomeverthefuck, on matters relating in no way to the workplace (except to whinge to someone when he’s tweeted badwy.)

Elmer, your time is short.

I’m worried about a friend. She’s getting the fuckaround from our wonderful health profession and she won’t let me in, or help her. My thoughts are with you sweetness, know that.

Ah, life is far more relaxing and quiet since chopping some deadwood out. I didn’t realise just how down and depressed I was about some shit until afterwards. Emotional clensing is always as good as a shower 🙂

Oh ace, it’s work time!