I can NOT believe this stupid council. I pay rates and now i see exactly why my money doesn't stretch to cover all the ward's needs. Because of the stupid stuff they decide to do.When I first moved into this neighbourhood, this little street (a cul-de-sac) had a small grassy island at each end. Very nice. The top end, where I am, the grassy knoll had a palm tree, a struggling-to-grow palm tree in the centre (mags' driving never did much for the palm's ability to thrieve.) So after months and months of this little grassy knoll looking very sad indeed, the council decided concrete was the way to go and the grass was replaced.Fine.But one or two of the street's residents (not me) wanted a bed of roses there not concrete. So the asked and the council said "sure thing, we will plant it but the street has to look after it" . Great said the keen residents. And in went the garden. And out went the two neighbours who wanted it in the first place, the two who were going to tend this little bed of roses, upped and moved.Fine.So no one really looked after the bed of roses, and they just looked messy and crappy. I came home one day to find the garden had gone. And the concrete was back.Fine.No more than a couple of weeks later I get a letter from the council. They want to put a garden in our street. But we, the residents, will have to maintain it. NO!! I write back. Unfortunately, they received four NOs and five YES's.FINE.Today, the ground is shaking each time the digger driver drops the 12" thick slabs of concrete on the ground. He is taking the concrete away. I spose the new garden will be arriving shortly. I would love to know how much these little game is costing. And I notice, the rates have gone up. *rolling my eyes* 5:45pmspeaking of stupidity. A woman was jailed this week for manslaughter. She strangled her 17 year old autistic daughter after spending years under constant stress and without any much needed help from Social Welfare. She begged and screamed for help, and not once did the Office set up for helping such people, offer any. She finally snapped and killed her daughter. As she held her lifeless child in her arms she said she felt happy. For the first time ever, she was able to touch her child without a struggle. To be able to wrap her arms around her daughter without having to restrain or fight her. This woman should not be in prison for four years because the system let her down.dreamed last night.. of poets and musicians... of Gary McCormick and Midge Marsden for goodness sake. Spent the entire dream wrapped in a towel. I think i started a fashion trend in my dreams.

I took an instant dislike to her.She was babbling about crispy or not crispy base for the pizza she was ordering. "is that crispy" she asked pointing at the pizza underconstruction. "thats crispy" she was told. "well i wont have crispy then".Then she turned to me. "I see they got you too" she chuckled.I knew what she was talking about. She was referring to the discount coupon i had in my hand. I played confused. "excuse me?""they came to our door too, selling them, we bought one too.""oh" i said, "I renewed mine, I always have these discount cards.""really, this is our first one" she prattled, "we have never had a Dial-a-Dinos Pizza before. What are they like?"I looked at her, then at the pizza mm mmm boy and said "they taste like shit, but at least they are cheap"okay. so why do i feel the need to share this little story. Because I wish people wouldn't just talk to me all the time. I don't think I look in need of a good chat or swift company, I am quite happy flirting it the mm mm pizza boy and I don't need to enter into a coupon discussion, which brings out my smartarse side and exposes me for the grumpy person I am in front of mm mm pizza boys.Of course, this doesn't work both ways. Oh no no no. When I want to make dribbly conversation with complete strangers, I expect to be able to. Case in point. I was at a cafe, standing behind an elderly looking gentleman who was ordering a pie for lunch. The woman serving him asked if he preferred tomato sauce or tamerillo sauce with his pie... so I had to butt in and suggest he chose the tamerillo. He half-turned very slowly, and looked at me. I continued to tell him about my Grandfather and his grove of tamerillo trees, and his recipe for making said sauce and how absolutely delicious it was and how it was so superior to tomato. He just looked at me for a slow second or two, then turned back to the woman."Tomato" he said to her. I was considering the tamerillo but this young woman has changed my mind.What the hell?

My brain can't remember some things, and other things it wont let go of. For instance, today, I had to visit a house. I sort of knew kind of where it was, and i was told the number of the house, and wrote it down. Now the thing with numbers and me, is the extremely short life span they have in my brain. We are actually talking microseconds here. Case in point... cutting fabric with Mags for the quilts we are making for Debra. "how many of these do i cut?" "four" "okay" *counts* "how many?" "four" "oh yes, of course" *cut cut cut* "mmm..." "four" "yes yes... i keep forgetting" what is up with that? tell me a number and I will instantly forget it.So when I finally find the street after driving down every street in the neighbourhood (why use a map when wandering and frustration are such a better option) I rock up to Number 79. Okay so thats the wrong house as I find out. *think think* 57..that's right..well no actually, that was wrong too. So I visit several homes in the cul-de-sac until I find out it's number 78. I don't even REMEMBER that number. I get back, give Mark a rark up over giving me the wrong house number. He of course claims he had said 78 all along. I note on my desk a note to myself, 75 Reelick Ave. No wonder. I am my own worst enemy.So is it that I have the need to personally use all the fossil fuels by making a short, 5 minute trip, into such an petrol guzzling ordeal? The number of kilometres i used today, considering the places I needed to go.. was appauling. I hope this was a one off and I am not usually like this. Maybe I just noticed for the first time.And I drive too fast. When one day I suddenly disappear from the Internet, it maybe assumed I have met my end in a twisted metal mangled mess. But channel Z will still be blaring.