So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
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* cats
* orangutans
* comfy shoes
* oranges
* rainforest plants
* my wife
That's about it.
Things I like, in order: Your mum. Your brother. You. Jennifer. Henry. Ezra. And most importantly ME!
Really, I like most things, until they disappoint me.
wilderness
strawberries
falafel
starry sky on the ocean
olives
wind
shorts
and: my husband and my two boys
and something more ...
Roddy, you like Ezra less than everyone else?
Carola, there are some good things on that list! I’m wearing shorts right now, and drawing plenty of odd looks. Apparently public servants are supposed to wear pants at work. It’s 30°C!
How would you like being the middle child of triplets?
Irrespective of order I love all my family equally. If you haven't figured that out by now then you have a problem.
What does Henry want for Christmas? Ezra is sorted.