News from Peemil's life in Australia.

By: Peemil.

"Yes it is," says overweight and tired mother to one of her female off-spring in the local Discount Variety store.
"No it's not," impetuous female child replies.
"Oh yes it is," Mother replies while staring hard at the child.

Of course, I was only here because I needed to buy some coat hangers. Discount Variety stores aren't really my scene. Actually, shopping overall really isn't my scene. If I was guaranteed more family arguments everytime I go shopping, I may just turn into a shopaholic.

"No it's not," female child states defiantly, stamping her foot and crossing her arms defensively.

"Good on you girl," I think. "Stick to your guns- Even though I have no idea what your arguing for."

"Look," mother says. "He's right."

"Sure- Like you know shit Mum. You go girl. Stick it to Mum," I think. But alas, even the mightiest crumble.

"Oh yes," the girl says. "He is right."

"Damn it," I think as I browse the aisle looking at imported Chinese crap searching for a simple ten pack of coat hangers. "She has given in. You should argue more. Especially when the other party is right."

"See?" young boy says, in tone reminisce of some hoity bastard I once knew, who seconds after using said tone, received a right handed clock in the gob. "I said, 'Every day brings us a day closer to Christmas.'"

"The little smart arse," I think. "Rubbing his poor sister's nose in it. All over a simple point of temporal mechanics. The inevitable march of time forward. You could've still argued against that little girl."

"Then why did you say 'No?'" mother asks daughter.

"Now is the time to stick it to them young girl," I think while wondering why on God's Earth this Discount Variety store lacks both variety, and is less a store and more an arguing spot for families. "Tell them you won't be constrained within your 'Fascist Dictatorship of Time.' Tell them that, just because our existence is defined by the flow of time forward, there is more mystery in this Universe than what we can comprehend, and it is quite possible, given infinite possibility, that time itself could go backwards this Christmas season. Then stomp on your mother's foot, punch her in the guts, and as she reels forward poke her in the eyes and march out of the store."

"I don't know," the little girl replies.

Kids these days. No guts- No glory.

While I was at work, an old lady comes in looking for something. As she carries out the transaction at the till, she scratches her downstairs region, aka, "Al Bundy style" right in front of me.

Old people these days- They've all got crabs.

Every morning a newspaper arrives on our doorstep. Nothing unusual about the paper being delivered to somebody's home. The only unusual part here, is that it isn't ours.

It just seems that the newspaper boy, man, woman or elephant has just decided, that on this particular street a few freebies wouldn't go astray.

Of course, my ethical dilemma is that this is stealing, and if you are going to steal something, you may as well consciously and purposely do it for something you really want, and not for a local paper that appears everyday on the doorstep.

Local paper deliveries these days- It's all a giveaway.

Last night while writing an e-mail that had taken forever to compose, the power went out.

Not unusual around here. For some reason, the wiring around this part of Toowoomba would be much better suited to the load demands of 1932 and hence, the power is forever going kaput.

Simply because my anger usually bubbles beneath the surface, waiting like water pummeling through the depths of Earth searching for a fissure to explode out of, I called the Energy Company to see what the hell was happening.

"Hello, Energy Company," the voice says.
"Hello. Have you got a good reason why I can't see my hand in front of my face?"
"Is the power experiencing problems in your area?"
"No. Actually, I just turn out all the lights in the evening and stand around looking at my hand wondering how they ever thought light was a particle, when it's so obviously a wave. Then I usually call random people. What do you think?"
"Could I get your address?" she replies in a monotone.

Energy Company workers these days- No sense of humour.