Great news for us men, we still earn more than women. In other news scrotoplasty demand set to skyrocket!

On the 27th of October, the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) released the “Characteristics of Employment, Australia, August 2014” and the breaking news is that women still earn a lot less than men. While this was true for all age groups, women aged between 35-44 can expect, on average, to earn $642 a week, less than men. It seems that this a good time to be a man!

Some have cheekily speculated that this may prompt an increased demand for gender reassignment surgery. Savvy females are expected to make a mad rush towards scrotoplasty as they chase equal pay! The desire to make the same money as males is not limited  by age. Edna Crabapple, 58 of Thornbury, stood at the front of her local greengrocer and yelled at passing males-“I want what you have and I won't take no!” Jerry Hallwell, 29 of Berwick, feels this may be a much easier way to finally get a pay rise and at the same time lessening her workload! Ms Hallwell said “I was going to apply yet again for a promotion at work, but worried the many hours I would put into preparing for the interview, would again come to naught due to competing against males. I have always lost to my male colleagues in the past, who did half as much work, were less qualified and were half as bright!” Ms Hallwell feels that you need balls to get ahead in business and instead of whinging and having things stay the same, she has decided to take the bull by the proverbial, and to make change by changing! Jane Manse, 38 of  High St, North Fitzroy (who would like to remain anonymous), has always felt that she was in the wrong gendered body and worries that the gender reassignment surgery she has been putting off, due to binge watching her favourite television programs on Crapflix, will now be even further away as the expected raising demand for surgery blows waiting lists out.

This will come as good news for share holders in publicly listed gender reassignment surgerys/ boutiques. Jeff Hood, CEO of 'Snip and Stitch' who's motto is 'fixing what God botched', has denied this article is a beat up designed to boost flagging stock prices. Males unable to read between the lines, see this as a great opportunity for the smart male to invest their extra $642 per week, into well performing and future blue chip stock - Snip and Tuck Limited. There is some bad news though for women hoping to jump on the gravy train of malehood, unfortunately gender reassignment surgery is expensive and not covered by medicare.

When asked why such important surgery is not included under medicare, the honourable ex Prime Minister A Butt, has been quoted as saying “If this expensive procedure was funded through medicare, people may take advantage of the system and we could have an explosion of people changing genders willy nilly". His esteemed Liberal predecessor supported this view and felt that people changing genders willy nilly, or doing anything willy nilly at the tax payers expense, was un-Australian. He then hastily added,  unless of course the person was an elected official representing the people. 

Janice Jones, manager at the Department of Births, Deaths and Marriages, worries that her department is already overworked and the significant increase in workload, due to updating the gender in birth certificates, would be too much for her small department to handle. "Being a small department, the increase in work would be too much for us",She is quoted as saying. Barry Hogg from the Department of Human Suffering, says he can help. “We can assist Mrs Jones', née Hogg's, department, by sending them some illiterate and ill-matched-to-the-role job seekers as part of 'the work for the dole program'". Mr Hogg added "As they are only paid an hourly rate of 70 cents or less, and are forced to participate or else have their unemployment payments cut off, these lazy bludgers are a godsend for my mates and siblings in businesses, who shouldn't have to pay minimum wage, especially when it impacts on their profit margins!", he later corrected himself and said that he meant to say that the work for the dole program provides cost effective employment and skills training for the unemployed and makes them 'job ready'. 

Getting back to medicare, male feminists have joined in on the call for medicare to cover gender reassignment surgery. Mary Craig told us that many other men in his biweekly sewing-circle group, share his hope that they can one day finally, really feel what it is like to be a women oppressed by the patriarchy. When asked if he realised that he would be effectively taking a $642 a week pay cut as a female, Mr Craig spluttered "no" as he dropped a stitch. He then added that it could be just as effective to imagine what it is to be like a woman, than actually having surgery to be one.

matthew schiavello. 2015.

Written by me, matthew schiavello for my compulsory 'work for dole' activity. I own all copyright (2015). I am 'paid' 69 cents an hour to participate in this compulsory activity, which is writing for 'community' publications. Unfortunately my activity has no training attached, they know nothing about me or my work/education background (luckily for me I took some journalism subjects back in university). I have to write and submit at least one article a week for use in one of two particular publications. For my compulsory 15 hours of work a week (and article submission/s), I am paid a total of $10.40. Outside of this, I also am looking and applying for actual jobs which are a 'good fit' for my skills and temperament.  I have no idea why these jobs (writing for community publications) are not going to journalists, or even student journalists and paying them an appropriate wage!  Why is our government creating and supporting such exploitative programs?

We seem to live in a civilised society which thinks it is acceptable to exploit the disadvantaged and the creative. Why are jobs being taken out of the job market and filled instead with forced slave labour? Who benefits from people being paid  69 cents an hour?  I hear support in the media and on talk back radio, for these 'work for the dole' programs, why aren't we or our government instead focusing on creating jobs and/or helping people find jobs which are a good fit for them, which treat them with respect and dignity and which pays a fair living wage? Isn't that the Australian thing to do, rather than encourage and support forced slave labour?

If you know of any jobs going in the community sector which have a creative element to them, which are supportive and respectful of the disadvantaged and which pays a fair living wage, please keep me in mind! 

My resume is on Linked in: matthew-schiavello

My artistic/creative folio is here:  http://www.matthewschiavello.com/

Matthew.

Aussie Slang

Slang:

 Recently a couple of things were said that made me smile.  A work mate used the word 'grouse' to describe how much fun she had at a night out ('Matty, I had such a grouse time') and someone else said they were so annoyed with something they wanted to "wring it's neck". Geez Louise, I can't remember the last time I heard these words/phrases used!

The great thing about slang and colloquial words and phrases, is that we are still able to get our point across to those who are part of our 'social collective'. Language is ever evolving and depending on where you come from, live and who you socialise with, you may well use language that others will not understand. New words/phrases are constantly being created and old words and phrase may fall by the wayside and be forgotten. I have seen (and loved it) the look on the face's of those who didn't understand what was seeing said when they heard such things as:

'She'll be apples'
'That's my blue'
'Ahh ya Bludger
"Pop on ya togs/budgie smugglers"
  'Let it rip'
'Built like a brick shithouse'
'That party was shithouse'
'Ya a bloody Bogan, that's what you are'
'Watch out for Bunyips!'
 'Go on, chuck a sickie!'
'You're as mean as cat's piss'
'Ahh, I feel like a Coldie'
'Pass the dead horse'
'He's a dag!'
'Fair Dinkum'
'and we grabbed the doovalacky...' also used are 'Thingo', 'Wadjamacallit', 'Thingummy' & 'whatsit'.
'Fair suck of the sav!'
'Ya Galah!'
'G'day'
'Give it a burl'
'Hooroo!'

'He's a mongerel!'
"Have a go ya mug!'
'We're off to the never never'
 'In the nud/nuddy'
'you want to see my old fella?'
'It's a piece of piss, mate'.
'Pigs arse!'
Bring a plate!' (and they do, except the plate is empty!)
'That'd be right'
She'll be right'
'It's ridgy didge!'
It was a real rip snorter!'
"I'll have a roadie/traveller'
'The fridge is rooted!'
'I'm a two pot screamer!'
'That stands out like a shag on a rock!'
'Hows that new sheila?'
'I'll have some spag bol'
'You know that new bloke's a sheepshagger'

'Mate I'm stonkered'.
'He's gone troppo'

'I'm true blue mate'
'Your as useful as tits on a bull'.
'Don't chuck a wobbly'
'It's gone walkabout'
'You wacker!'
'Hes from woop woop'.
'Chuck a yewy'
'Ya bloody yob/yobbo'.

If you need some help with any of the above, check out Koala net's slang dictionary!

I'm gonna piss off now, but if your noggin starts working and you've got anything of worth to share,
don't be a wuss, give us a hoy! Hooroo!

My Mother and Facebook

My friends had warned me and I did not listen.

It all started back when my mother joined the digital revolution and went online. It wasn't long before she created a Facebook account and then... yes, sent me a friend invite.
I put off responding and took this dilemma to my friends.  Their response was a resounding 'NO!'. I think they all added a variation to the effect of 'are you insane? why would you even need to ask if this is ok? Of course it isn't!' Apparently, you do not add your mother to your Facebook account, I understand this now, but couldn't help but feel really guilty! After all, this was the woman that carried me for nine months, gave birth to me, fed me, changed me and loved me.... how can I not accept a friend request from my mother??? What kind of an ungrateful son would I be?  So, I ignored the good advice of my friends and accepted my mother's 'friend request' and then things became awkward.
At first it was 'kind of' ok. When no one responded to one of my posts, my mum would support me by posting encouraging comments like 'I like everything that matthew does'.. yep, it's  just like the encouragement ribbons I used to get at Little Athletics  (cause I was shit at Little Athletics), except this time it is a public post on Facebook by my mother. Anyway, things were reasonably ok, until the phone call. Which went a little like this:

Mum-' Hi, X is sending you a Facebook invite, so just make sure you accept that when it comes through'

Me- 'What??!!, Who is this person??'

Mum- 'you know my friend X...'

Me (becoming a tad hysterical at this point and reverting to a 12 year old)-'MUM! I am NOT accepting friend requests from YOUR friends, OH MY GOD!! My friends told me NOT to accept your friend request and now look what is happening!!!!' 

Mum, a little hurt and puzzled- 'Why would your friends tell you not to be my friend on Facebook??'

Me (hearing the hurt in my mothers voice and now rightfully feeling like complete crap!)- 'Cause you're my mum and it is not cool!!  But I told them I couldn't turn down my mothers friend request...'

Mum (now with some pride in her voice) - 'come on love, just for me, for your mum!'

Me- 'mum, how did they even find me on Facebook (I have my fathers surname and mum has her maiden name'

Mum- 'well.. X doesn't have many friends so I suggested that they add you... go on , for me, for your mum. I did tell them that you would accept the request.'

Me (feeling that I have no choice in the matter, and making sure my mother knows that I am not happy! and no, I didn't stomp about this time) - 'Ok, that  is it!!! no more mum, no MORE!!!!  I will accept their friend request, but I don't want anymore of your friends sending me friend requests, ok??!!

Mum- 'Oh, X is not my friend, X is my neighbour.

I just groan at this point.

The next evening, I call mum and advise that I had accepted her neighbour's friend request... mum responded with, 'oh, I just deleted the request they sent me'.
I flip out 'ARE YOU SERIOUS???????". Mum laughs and says 'I deleted it accidentally, I asked X to resend the request'. I think I ended the call very quickly with, 'Ok mum I have to go, I can't talk to you anymore.' All the while I was asking myself, why I didn't listen to my friends in the first place and not accept my mum's Facebook friend request.


I think my mum secretly delights in driving me crazy, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she is writing a blog called 'Things I do to drive my son crazy'.


Many thanks to V.G. for editing!

The little black Melways

There I was, I had just sold my car to a very straight, young middle eastern mechanic who worked for my mechanic, who I had been going to for years and years. I had given the young man the keys and said kindly (because I am a very generous man!), "Keep the Melways, it is current, I have no need of it"..... and then a day later I realised with embarrassment what I had left him with, was actually my little 'black' Melways!

***At this very early juncture, I should point out that 'Melways' is the brand of a Melbourne (where I live) street directory. The 'Mel' in Melways being for Melbourne. I did not realise this till a couple of years ago when I was interstate and asked someone if there was a Melways about so that we could work out how to get 'unlost. They they looked at me like I was an idiot .. "Umm this is Brisbane...Melways are for Melbourne!, here it is called Brisways!" they snorted. "Oh!", was my confused and embarrassed reply. Who knew?

Now, back to the main point of all of this!....Being a single modern man, I have been 'out there'. I don't mean in the garden doing some much needed weeding, but out there, on the dating scene. Dating is word that for me has wholesome connotations and I guess the modern scene is often anything but...but what is my point? A post lamenting the loss of more innocent times? No, something a little more sordid. Today's dating scene is more like a .. well, you meet online, you exchange 'vitals' and interests and then before you have finished saying hello and starting the small talk about the weather and contemporary art, 'Bob's your uncle!' ( a euphemism for: making hay while the sun shines (can you use a euphemism to explain the meaning of another euphemism?)).

So, being an 'out there' modern dating man, I have had my fair share of 'dates' and because I can be forgetful.. I would dot point important details of said dates .. name, address, phone number, 'vitals', 'interests' and important information like - 'nice guy but boring', 'bad breath' etc.... now, because I am practical.. I go that little bit further with all of this and just in case I want to go back on another 'date'.. I placed these little bits of paper, on the actual page of the Melways  (road directory) where they lived. This obviously makes it easier for me if I wanted to visit them again. With me being 'that way inclined'.. this also means these little bits of paper obviously had other men's details on them. 

Anyway ..So here I am, having sold my car and given away my little black Melways with all of it's dirty little secrets, names, addresses, numbers etc,  to a young and very straight  mechanic, who worked for my mechanic  etc.......which all means that obviously I can never go back to that most brilliant of brilliant mechanics.... but at the same time I cannot leave these other peoples personal details 'out there' in the greater world where they may be  used to hurt them in some way... can I?  

Maybe?

What a dilemma!.. what to do?
I mean, another option would be to have the young man sacked so that I can go back to my mechanics if I need to and then won't have to shamefully face him.

Before anyone gets all up in arms, of course I know what I 'must' do...which is the 'right thing' of course! Being of southern Italian blood, the 'right thing' would mean to have him 'removed' permanently. But, being a kind hearted man, I ignore the voice of Calabrese reason and
after much deep breathing and many slugs of hard liquor, I venture back to the mechanics (where I knew the car was waiting on some much needed repair work) and asked  my car's new young owner if I could grab an important document I think I left in the Melways..  He was polite enough and pointed out where the car was. Acting as calm as a cucumber I quickly nabbed all the dirty little bits of proof of the wicked life I had led ( a statement which incorrectly infers that I am now a model catholic!) and believe it or not.. In a panic I actually contemplated  eating the 'evidence' in case he came over and caught me red-handed with it.. but then thought about how I had no fluid/drink to wash the paper down with and my mouth would surely get all dry.. because it was probably like eating dry biscuits.. right?..and your mouth gets so dry that you can't actually swallow! So I took it all home and shredded it instead. I sighed a huge sigh of relief because not only was I amazingly clever and saved the day for millions of unsuspecting gay, bisexual and 'curious' Melbourne men, but now, no one would ever know about my shameful little black Melways.

I am certain that there is a lesson there in all of this... but I'll be buggered if I can find it ;-)

Dear crazy and beautiful people, please don't be so hard on yourself.

We are all a little bit crazy. Some of us are more crazy than others, some of us are more openly or publicly crazy than others, some of us are crazy behind closed doors and some of us are so scared of being thought to be crazy that we hide who we are and present as cold, frozen and aloof.

OK, maybe some people are far from crazy, maybe they are well balanced and sane.Well,  Bully for them! (for those reading this who are under 70, 'good for them!').

For the rest of us, I wonder sometimes if we get so caught up worrying or thinking about how crazy we can be seen to be, that these very thoughts get in the way of everything else. I have come to the personal conclusion to stop worrying because everyone else is as crazy as me and if they aren't, then maybe they are hiding it, ashamed of it, waiting for the right moment to give me a lovely surprise with a sudden display of it, or maybe they aren't blessed with a touch of craziness and are just plain BORING. Crazy is as crazy does and if you can't be a little hysterical, unpredictable and able to think outside that bloody square, then how humdrum and predictable a life we would live?

Craziness needs to be loved, to be nurtured,  to be encouraged, to be celebrated and to be held up high for all to aspire to. Yes, for it is a beacon of light in the grey of the mundane and monotonous! If it wasn't for a little craziness, how would the great achievements in human history have occurred?  You just need to look at a photo of good old Albert Einstein and his wacky hair to know that he is a little bit crazy. Van Gogh's beautiful artwork is another case in point, who would have thought to try such a different way of painting? Only a crazy person!

Don't get confused, I am not suggesting we all go on holiday to a sanitarium, wear straight jackets or start taking anti-psychotic medication. I am not talking about mental health issue type crazy here, but the kind of craziness that allows you to function in the greater world, whilst still allowing you to be and do as you want or feel, to be a little left of centre and importantly, be true to your magnificent crazy self! Don't get me wrong, I am not for a second implying that non-crazy people aren't being true to themselves, they are, it is just.. that they are so.... well, you know... predictable and... dare I use the 'b' word?

Sure, for us crazy people, it's not all sunshine, rainbows and lollypops (with apologies to Lesley Gore), for some, being a little crazy means over-reacting to things, exaggerating everything and sometimes flailing your arms about as you do it. Sometimes this isn't conducive to ongoing and long lasting relationships... sometimes our crazy behaviour can get in the way of what we want in life. The glass half full people amongst us, see these moments  as opportunities to moderate and adapt our craziness to help us achieve what we want in life. In other words, change for the better. Yep, talk about seeing the silver lining! The 'glass half full' crazy people talk about owning your crazy, rather than letting it own and control you.. Deep stuff!

So, my dear fellow crazy and beautiful people, be your crazy yourselves and do it with head held high. Life is never perfect, so the next time you are a little crazier than you might like to be, don't be too hard on yourself, be a glass half full type and see it as an opportunity to learn from. An opportunity to try and do things differently next time and to own your crazy rather than letting it own you. Most importantly, what ever you do dear crazy person, never hide your crazy, never deny it and most of all, never ever get rid of all of your craziness, because without it,  you are not you. And you are beautiful just as you are.

The magical power that parents have to make you feel twelve years old again.... and not in a good way.

How is it that no matter what age you are, your parents still seem to have some magical ability to regress us to age twelve?  I don't at all mean this in lovely way, you know, a way in which we are transported back to a time and state of being of innocence, where we had no worries about work, mortgages, children, the environment and life as we know it as todays responsible adult. I'm talking about being regressed back to all the crap stuff about being twelve- ie. your parents spoiling your fun and making you do things that you don't want to!

Recently I had a very adult event in my life. The opening of an art exhibition which I was part of and which my mother attended. All was well, until my mother wanted me to do something for her and I was too busy attending to my guests to fulfill mothers wants. Mum kept asking me about a friend of mine I had known for ages. Mum wanted to be reintroduced to her and kept asking me where friend 'X' was. Mind you, I was busy being a host and spruiking my art which was on sale. I did respond to mum's requests with 'she is over there mum'.. to which mum would ask me to retrieve X to present to her. I know what your question is and the answer is: Yes, my mother is the Queen of England. Anyway my mother, whom everyone comments of with phrases such as  'Oh, your mum is lovely' or, 'Oh, your mum is so nice'... etc. Yes well, wait till you really know her, because if you don't give her what she wants, she will turn into the lord of HELL at any moment! as evidenced by what happened next at the exhibition.... As I was busy working the room, I walked past where the queen of England was seated (yes, my mother) and BAM! My mother just about rips my arm off as she grabs me:

Mum- In a steely tone, 'Have you brought your friend X over to me yet? I want to see what they are like after these years that have passed..'

Me, in the middle of working the room at MY event (and wondering why people ask rhetorical questions.. I mean, seriously, If I had brought X over to you, would you have to ask me If I had??)
'No mum, she is just over there' I say as I also point out where X is standing and in fairly close proximity'

Mum- 'go and get her', with her steely tone getting steelier by the syllable.

Me- exasperatedly 'Mum, I'm in the middle of stuff! I'm busy, she's over there' (ie. Queeny, get up and walk over there....)

At this point my mother, whom everyone falsely believes is LOVELY and is always saying ' oh your mum is  so sweet etc..... well, she gave me one of those looks, that dark alley stare that says  'do it now boy or I will cut you!' Then, between clenched teeth  she demands "Bring her to me NOW!'.  At which point, I regress into a twelve year old who has been told to stop playing with his friends and go and do some painful chore. My shoulders hunch up, are then released with a huge shrug and sigh as I turn and STOMP off to collect my friend X.  I find X, grab her arm and state sulkily 'Mum wants to meet you', then I STOMP back over to the queen who is smiling broadly, with X in tow....

Yep.... Parents.... no matter how old you are, they are always your parents and can always make you feel like a child, and not in a good way either.

p.s. I do love the Queen, err I mean my mum!

The 'D' word!

There seems to be so much confusion on when a date is an actual 'date'. Maybe confusion is not the right word, maybe it is hesitation and maybe it is pride that have seen the 'D' word move into a similar realm to the 'L' word. When I refer to the 'D' word, I of course mean 'D' for date. Insanely, just like the L word, we seem to fear using it. Heaven forbid we say it out loud and it isn't returned!

Many a conversation has been had with my friends over the definition of a date. I defined it as being a meeting between two or more people (I am trying to be open minded here!), that like each other, are attracted to each other in some way and  want to see if something more intimate than a friendship will come of things. Obviously a blind date is a little different as there is no attraction to draw the parties together to begin with, but the aim is similarly to see if something more intimate than a friendship will occur.

A date (as stated in a previous blog post) is  where we 'get to know each other' through conversation.
It is an opportunity to highlight how amazing each person is, and to convince the other person that we are worth seeing again. It is also our opportunity to decide if we want to spend more time with the other person.


How does a date differ from a catch up?

I am glad you asked! A catch up is what I do with friends. It is a continuation of sorts, a continuation of meeting, of conversation and of friendship. Do I even need to point out that there are no romantic or sexual feelings between myself and my friends?  Let me be clear. My life is not a Hollywood movie, in which everyone knows my best friend and I are meant for each other and it is only after some significant event that we realise that we loved each other all along and then are together for the rest of our lives.... Chances are no one elses life is like this.. well the majority of us.. and the reason is.. our lives are real and not some Hollywood film plot written with the aim to bring momentarily happiness into the lives of the unhappily single, or unhappily partnered.



One person I dated famously argued that we had not gone on any dates, but had just 'caught up' a few times. His definition of a date was that if both parties meet and AFTER meeting decided that they were interested in meeting again to see what happens, then it was called a 'date'. Crazy stuff yeah?
I pointed out that this doesn't work with a 'blind date' i.e. it is only a blind date if after meeting both parties decide that they were interested in meeting again to see what happens... My ex-date begrudgingly saw my point and conceded defeat! And yes, now says that we went on a couple of dates.

What is so wrong with using the 'D' word? Are our own egos so fragile that we will only use it if the other person likes us enough to want to see us again? Is the 'D' word fast becoming the new 'L' word, and possibly soon to over take it? Are we now tentatively trying to suss out if the other person will respond in kind before we dare use the 'D'  word ourselves? Perhaps the word is getting stuck in our throats as we struggle to say it, as we struggle to commit to something, to the word, to the concept and to the idea of a possible new emotional beginning.

Maybe the D word is fast becoming the new L word, but I am going to do all I can to make my dates more accountable and to get them to overcome their fears and commit!, if only to the concept!

The Good, The Bad and the ugly- July 2013

The Good:

Yes, well... we have all heard about it, some of us have gone to it and in case you do not know, it is still on for a couple more days until the 17th of July!   Yes, I am talking about the group exhibition I am in,  'Together Again with more Friends', at Steps Gallery (62 Lygon St, South Carlton, Victoria, Australia). Daily from 11am until 5pm.

I will be manning the gallery this Sunday if you want to pop in and say hello.

I am humbled to have sold over half of my pieces! So get down and see what all the fuss is about! A huge thanks to all that helped out at the opening, especially my mates Dean and Eduardo, their help really made the day a success!

Here are a couple of photos of some of my art work and I, taken by the fabulous Ric!

 Ever the serious artists...... actually the truth is, I just never smile for the camera.

The Bad:  Hipstergeddon!!!!

Yep, last Monday, Northcote, Thornbury and some other (not so cool) suburbs, had a major power black out for 6 or so hours, lasting until just after midnight! In my area, we did not even have street lights or traffic lights! It was very eerie. Being Northside and being a hipster haven... twitter went mad and here are some of the tweets that I thought to be humorous!

Tweets courtesy of The Flack

-Van Badham @vanbadham: OMG WHAT INSTA FILTER DO YOU USE IN A BLACKOUT?! #hipstergeddon

-Johan @johanson_anders: Is it raining soy-substitute blood yet in Thornbury? #hipstergeddon

-Joey JoJo Jr Shabado @Straffo: It’s quiet now, #hipstergeddon. This is merely while they fashion their flat iPhones & iPads into crude weapons to use in the coming attack.

-Gordon Knight @KankiKnight: Knog lights being distributed to yarn bombers to keep their crucial work going #hipstergeddon

-Lol @wordhappylol: Relief for #hipstergeddon victims as free replacement beanies are handed out at a secret pop-up laneway location

-Timothy Zeven @Zevensoft: I let my iPhone battery die as a sign of solidarity to those in Northcote #hipstergeddon

-Alli Campbell @CampbellAlli: Hipsters attempting to cross the blackout border. Met by placards reading “GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM” #hipstergeddon

-Marc Clancy @clangaz: iPhone battery 2% If I don’t make it through the night tell my naturopath I love him. #hipstergeddon

-Benjamin Solah @benjaminsolah: iPhone nearly dead. Don’t think I’ll make it. Promise to publish my zine about fixies posthumously #hipstergeddon

-Joseph Miller @joffotron: My brothers and sisters still in the grip of the #hipstergeddon, as your batteries die, your voices may be silent but you are not forgotten.



Do Hipsters watch Q & A? these tweets suggest so....

-Mike Nicholson @Mikey_Nicholson: How could #hipstergeddon happen the same night as @TurnbullMalcolm is on #qanda?!? THE TERRORISTS HAVE WON.

-AlBay @AlisterBayston: If #qanda is broadcast but Northcote is in #blackout, does anybody see it? #hipstergeddon #ifatreefalls

-Declan Fay @declanf: Northern suburbs filled with high pitched desperate screams, as residents cry their #qanda tweets into darkness. #hipstergeddon

Lastly, The Hearld Sun newspaper lead their story on the power outage with: "ELECTRICITY became too mainstream for Melbourne hipsters last night."




The Ugly: Referring to oneself in the third person.

My work place has a 'back entrance' to a local cafe, which sees everyone from my quite large workplace, funnel in for coffees and food all day long.. a cash cow, if there ever was one....Recently, as I walked through the special entrance to the cafe to order a much needed morning coffee, I spied a work colleague, intimately holding hands with some new man and looking all googly eyes at him... I stared in disbelief as I walked past them and thought, I get this is a public cafe, but it is one used by work and 90% of the clientele are work people......seriously, is this appropriate? (rhetorical question!).

Anyway, on my way back through, Jane (lets just call her that), saw me and things went a little like this:

Jane, smiling broadly - 'oh, Hi!'

Me, Glaring and putting on a forced smile and a furrowed brow 'Hi'

Jane - 'This is my new man..... ' she said as she gazed off into space...

Me puzzled, but with brow still furrowed, 'Didn't you just break up with someone, like... 2 days ago?
(Do I need to state that I was direct?)

Jane- 'yeah.....Jane is so happy right now' (yes that is right, she referred to herself in the third person!)

Me , quick as a whip and angry as all hell 'DID YOU JUST REFER TO YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON?

Jane, still smiling idiotically... 'yes'...

Me, shaking my head disapprovingly from side to side, as my eyes almost popped themselves out of my head in anger- 'THAT HAS TO STOP! THAT IS NOT OK!'

At which point I turned on my heels and furiously stormed back off to work.

I don't know what was worse, referring to herself in the third person, or being all lovey-dovey in a space which is practically a work cafe... and doing it whilst surrounded by single people! who want to be in a relationship, but are tragically still single....... and yes, matthew is talking about matthew!



Photographs copyright Ric 2013, Art works copyright matthew schiavello 2013

"I don't do the high-five thing"

If you try and high five me and you are neither a child or a client of mine, I will stare you down and say (in a nice and polite way) "I don't do the high-five thing".

People generally laugh at me and say I am insane. Just last week a new work colleague said that I need to talk to someone about this and "unpack it". He then pushed me and insisted that I tell him why I don't high five, to which I responded "I don't like it, It is so American, It is childish and fake... not that I am saying that you are fake, cause your not." My colleague thought I was a nutter and almost fell off his chair laughing. Well he did ask...

Only a few days after this event, a volunteer I was supervising, tried to high-five me, I did my whole anti high five thing.... and he counteracted and said that if I didn't high-five him, he would stop volunteering for the organisation.... I was in a pickle. I weighed it up... the team, my values, the team, selling my self out, the team, whoring my self, the team.... I'm sure you follow... in the end I took one for the team and high fived him. I felt like a dirty tramp of a traitor afterwards and had to take a shower. But we all know that it was to no avail because soap cannot wash away guilt and sin.

Don't get me wrong about it being 'American'. I am not anti- U.S.A. After going there and meeting some lovely Americans and having a really positive experience, I see them as being the same as us and just like us, having crap people in power and ordinary citizens in the limelight who do not represent the views of the majority. So maybe instead I should say, it's unappealing stereotyped American behaviour from trash/pop culture, which is over-represented and inaccurate of the behaviour of the majority of Americans or something similarly politically correct, watered down and almost unintelligible. In fact, I may as well have not said anything in the first instance.

Speaking of Americans, yes again with those crazy Americans (I have heard others 'pesky', but I am not one to get involved in international scandals or slagging and I love those crazy Americans, except of course when they are being pesky).. anyway, they even have a national high five day!!!  Apparently it is the third Thursday in April.

The website Mashable posted a '10 types of palm smacks for National High Five day. Included in this list are; the selfie, the air high five, the Van der smack and high five/fist bump combo! A few days after reading this list of the differing types of high-five, someone at work tried to fist pump me!!  Thank god I knew it is a type of high-five, so knew to refuse! 'Be prepared' is my moto!, well... a moto I stole from some children's club. Speaking of being prepared, a little known but important  fact is that on the eighth day (yes, after the seventh day of rest) the lord spoke and said "go forth and act in an age appropriate manner!' It is also unsurprisingly the eleveth commandment, but butter fingers Moses dropped the third stone tablet, so that knowledge was never widely shared. If only at the time he didn't try and do it all himself and asked for some help. A little humility never killed anyone!

If all of this is not enough to sway you to act, dare I say- age appropriately and stop it already with the high-five shenanigans, then hopefully these clips will.. Just remember, 'there but for the grace of god go I'...and if you have no idea what that means, yes I'm talking to you, the high-fivers and potential high-fivers out there- this could be you!

The good , the bad and the ugly- April 2013

The Good:  Life.


There seems to be so much bad stuff happening at the moment. So much hurt, suffering, sadness and death. From the Boston bombings, Earthquakes in China, ongoing starvation, ongoing war and on and on......through it all and perhaps because of it all, I am reminded of the fragility and the preciousness of life...

I am reminded to enjoy what we have while we have it.... and where we can and for those who need it, to help them so that they too can enjoy what life we have, what life they have.
For all we know it could be over in an instant.



The bad:  Inappropriate in-talk/code between friends

 I was reminded of this recently when talking to a friend about how we refer to each others dates by code name instead of by the date's actual name. I casually said 'I might blog about this', to which my friend screeched, No!!!  Don't blog about it, it will make us all look like arseholes!!!!!!  And when I thought it, this friend was right. I mean, how unfair that a man who wore tracksuit pants on the second date, was forever referred to by myself  and my friends as 'tracksuit pants man'... When I have referred to him by his actual name, my friends quizzically ask 'who?'

So now, all of our conversations about him go a little bit like:

'How are things going with tracksuit pants man?'

'When are you seeing tracksuit pants man again?'


Poor, poor, poor man, his only crime was a crime of fashion and a tiny little dating faux pas. I wonder if his gravestone will remember him as tracksuit pants man as well.

Would it be heartless of me to mention 'heart attack man', who had a heart attack early on in the dating game and has since passed away, bless him....or my friend whom a clairvoyant once foretold would next date a woman who was (and I am quoting the clairvoyant here) 'mutton dressed as lamb'... which meant that subsequently, every woman this friend showed any interest at all in, the rest of us would look over and consider if she was in fact 'mutton dressed as lamb'. Terrible of us I know... but I personally blame the clairvoyant.

There is also (and let me finish on a more harmless note), my friend who dated a man who had 500 cd's and was forever referred to as '500cd'. To this day I have no idea what his actual  name was......



The Ugly:  Work colleagues and  inappropriate disclosures.

Speaking of  inappropriateness, a while back an ex manager of mine bragged to the whole team that they regularly stole fruit and veg from the supermarket. What makes this worse is that this person was in a role where we were meant to be modeling appropriate behavior and enforcing rights and laws.

This manager bragged that they would use the self service at the supermarket checkout and scan more expensive items through as cheaper ones. For example, broccolini  was put through as broccoli. Truss and hydroponic tomatoes put through as standard tomatoes.This manager then disclosed that their partner would take hydroponic and truss tomatoes off the stems and pretend that they are standard el-cheapo tomatoes... once a supermarket staff member overseeing the self-serv machines pointed out that the tomatoes were in fact the more expensive hydroponic tomatoes, but my old mangers partner ARGUED this was not true and kept arguing until they got away with it... the manger then said, "what we learned from that was to go the supermarket during peak times so that there is less chance of being monitored and caught"....
Yep... My face must have given away my disgust, as my then manager said in front of the team  'oh Matthew doesn't approve'... Hell no! I don't, but in this instance I was more subtle and responded with a simple 'I didn't say anything'. No I didn't say anything, but my expression did.

Of course after this my friends and I referred to this manger in conversation as 'light fingers', 'the thief' or 'the self serve check out thief'. Can you blame us?

The BBQ, the 'housemate' and yet another failed date.

The lawyer had hardly spoken to me over the course of the year.

He lived in Sticksville. You know the place, the one that you had to go to yourself that time, which was way out of town, not quite in the country, but not quite the suburbs, not even the outer fringes. It took you forever to get there and when you finally did, you found yourself thinking loudly 'why would anyone live way out here?', and the other person with you said 'where the fuck are we?'. When you mentioned your trip to your friends, they asked if you had taken a packed lunch. Well, that was the place the lawyer lived.

So, suddenly after a brief conversation, which had come from out of the blue, I was being invited to a BBQ at 8.30pm in a few days’ time. Me, being me, said it was too late for me to eat…. you know, by the time you get there and the BBQ actually starts, it is at least 10.30pm before you are sitting down to eat. I suggested that as it was too late for me to eat, that instead I come over for a drink and chat. He agreed. Upon my asking what should I bring, he said 'washed rind cheese'. Not only had I no idea what that was (apart from it being food and cheese), I was feeling a little annoyed. I mean, what part of  'I am not eating' did he not get, and then I am asked to bring food?! Was this something from his shopping list he had forgotten to pick up on his latest trip to the shops? Did he want me to pick up his dry cleaning as well? The next day he called me saying we wanted to bring the BBQ forward an hour and promised we would not eat late. As I was already bringing food stuffs he had forgotten to pick up during his weekly shopping trip, I agreed to eat. Why not?

I went to the Italian deli near my work,… as their cheese section is HUGE they would surely know what this washed rind malarkey is. The thing was, they didn't. Instead they asked what was it for, who was I seeing and what nationality he was (sticky beaks I know!), The moment I said he was an Aussie they were racists as all buggery and said 'Give him some provolone, 'they' love it!'. I replied that I just use provolone on my everyday sandwiches and the hilariously racist deli lady said, 'yeah but 'they' don't know that and think it's gold! GOLD!'. What else could I do? I took the provolone and then headed to the refrigerated section (where milk and dairy is kept) and saw some soft danish cheeses as well as Camembert and Brie, so I bought one 'just in case'. Fifteen dollars and a phone call to my brother later and it turned out that the soft cheeses (yep, those with the washed rind), was what I was meant to buy in the first place. Maybe I should apply for a job in the Deli? Attitude?-check, sticky beak?-check! racist- check (aren't we all to some degree?), knowledge of soft rind cheese- check!

 So, there I was driving in 40 degree heat to the ends of the earth. It was so hot that my car air-con needed it's own air-con. I think I stopped to fill up with petrol twice on the way there.. yeah ok I am exaggerating just a tad, but if my tank like car did not have such a HUGE petrol tank, I am certain I would have had to have filled up at least twice!! I did have to stop several times to check my map, Yes I use a hard copy of the street directory!! I don't trust those confounded electronic talking maps!!! Once I was with my sister and her talking GPS had us looping round the block! Give me a compass and map any day! .. Anyway, finally I had arrived in Sticksville.

The lawyer opened the door and the first thing I realised was that he was shorter than I thought he would be and much older than his internet dating profile stated. Short was ok, in fact he was my height, I was excited as I don't think I have ever dated anyone my own height! I would however normally be annoyed by the lying of ones age, you know the whole foundation built on lies thing.. but as I already knew he was a lawyer...I guess it kind of goes with the territory. Anyway, he invited me in and showed me around his mansion like home. Of course he had a grand piano and, no, he didn’t play. Apparently it was for atmosphere. When he told me that he had decorated the interior himself, I wondered if I should have told him not to tell anyone else that.... At every step in the tour, he told me how much he had spent on the house, both the ongoing renovations and the interior decorating.. I couldn't help but say, 'you've really over capitalised for the area'. He froze for a moment and then mentioned how he didn't care, as he saw himself dying in the house.. I couldn't help but wonder when this was going to happen., Was it soon and did he know something I didn't? After being shown around the mansion for what seemed hours, I felt like I needed a drink or twenty. My date must have read my mind, because he suggested we sit down and open a bottle of champagne (which was followed by several bottles of wine). I don't count other peoples drinks, but this guy seemed to drink a bottle to my glass. Mind you I was counting time and making sure the food didn't go on the BBQ too late... I cannot eat after a certain time you know..it upsets my whole routine!

So there we were, making small talk, getting to know each other and me being me, I had to know why it took a year of infrequent chatting to finally decide to meet...

He: "I've been really busy with work."

Me: " ok... look don't get me wrong, I am really happy to be here and that you asked me over, but it kind of came out of the blue and I am a bit surprised by it".

 I should mention at this point that in all the time we have been chatting, his internet dating profile clearly stated that he was a SINGLE GAY MALE, but he responded with...

He: "Yes, well work has eased up a little, and as my housemate has just gone away on holiday, I thought it would be a good opportunity to invite you over."

Me: 'Your housemate? I didn't realise you had a housemate. How long has he been here with you?'

He:' Oh.. he and I shared before I bought this house.'

Me: 'Oh! So is he just a housemate or your partner?'

He:' oh.. well umm.. partner I guess, but we aren't so close anymore.'

 Me: 'Hmm.. do you still consider yourself a couple and still share a bed?'

Yes I do go in hard and fast with my questioning.. take no prisoners I say!!!

He:' ah.. yes.. but we don't have sex as often as we did at the start of the relationship.'

Me: 'You know that your profile says that you are single.'

He.. feigning innocence:' Does it?'

 Me: 'I am wondering how your partner would react to being referred to as your housemate?'

Unsurprisingly he didn't respond to that question. I guess he knew it was rhetorical. So there I was in Sticksville with this freaking soft rind cheese and provolone (which cost me $15!) and not sure what the heck was going on. The next several hours became a quasi counselling session as he talked about everything that was wrong with his life and with his several failed relationships, as well as what he saw as being problematic with this current one. Or should I say with his current 'housemate'? I asked if he had talked about his concerns with his partner/housemate, and he replied 'No'. I asked how he expected his partner to know what he was thinking and feeling if he didn't share his thoughts and feelings with him... He agreed with this point and said I was brilliant. Despite all the other issues, at least this man was able to recognise my brilliance! He then asked if I would come back another day and talk to his partner about their relationship, as I had with him. I said “Sure” and half joked, but was mostly serious about how much I charge per hour, in cash.... He went deathly silent and never mentioned my counselling services again.

By the time we finished talking, it was 2.30am. I said I had better leave and he suggested I stay over in the spare room, though he referred to it by name.Yes, the spare rooms had names. Each room’s name reflected its own uniquely decorated theme. Uniquely of course meaning ......... (Dear reader, please fill in the blank with your choice of adjective, I'd suggest something like 'hideous' ). Anyway, I lied and said I couldn't stay over as I didn't bring my toothbrush. Little did he know that the boot of my car has a suitcase filled with spare clothes, shoes and bits and bobs just in case my date and I hit it off and we decide that I should move in there and then!

So there I was driving home from Sticksville in the early hours of the morning, scratching at the twenty two itchy-as-hell mosquito bites covering my arms and legs, which were still bothering me a week later. Though I had been eaten alive as we talked and ate 'al fresco', I guess I was still a little confused about his situation, and to be honest, I was still attracted to him and so, I didn't want to be seen as a complainer and just sucked up the pain of those bloody mosquito bites instead of asking to move indoors. More fool me......

To add to it all, we never even opened up and nibbled on these bloody cheeses, not even the soft rind one!!

New music- Feb 2013

When I say I rock it ol' school, I look and sound like an utter and complete dag, which is half the fun. I mean if you can't take the piss out of yourself, who can you take the piss out of? So, you know that when I say that I am both cool and a complete snob for buying new music on vinyl, it is said with tongue firmly planted in cheek....Anyway, I went two steps beyond my already cool, hip and groovy self and went 'underground' (man!) when I recently purchased a new album on cassette! Why underground? Well I mentioned it to a few people who quizzically asked what do you mean 'cassette'? yep, I may as well have said on wax cylinder... Others who faintly recalled them, had an air of derisiveness when asking 'does anyone have a cassette player nowadays?.. yep I do.. Three infact! But that still doesn't really account for the underground bit in full. Ok, while I am bucking the expectations of the mainstream, the act of buying on cassette was made more 'underground' because the album was the new one by noise pop group 'Deerhoof'. The main-streamers will say 'who?' and the indie darlings will say, 'they are far from underground'...and me in the middle with my cassette player will write a blog on the whole thing, from my cramped little home, with old newspaper sticky-taped to the windows to stop summers hot breeze from coming in through the gaps between the window frame and where the glass window used to be. I may as well be squatting, hence my feeling underground, while really and lets be honest here,  I am a bourgeois home owner tapping away on his lap top with wireless internet, sipping on Italian coffee after coming in from brunch with friends ... Hmm I guess it's all about perspective.

Anyway this is supposed to be about new music:

On Cassette:
Deerhoof: 'Breakup song".
From the LP Breakup song, comes the cute and noisy track 'The trouble with candyhands'.




On Vinyl:
The Smiths: Unreleased Demos and Instrumentals   (bootleg and a double album on blue vinyl!).

From the album is the rawer (and all the better for it) track 'Ask':



What I am loving on the radio and on youtube:

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. If you thought you knew Nick, then give this track a listen, yeah it sounds like him, but the music is so spacious and yet has a whiff of claustrophobia at the same time! From the new Lp 'Push the sky away'- 'we no who u r' (yes, please forgive Nick for his Gen Y text styled spelling):



Smith Street Band- 'Young drunk' . I am loving this band at the minute...(oh, and if you are not able to catch the name of the venue in this clip, it's the Tote!):



Billy Bragg!!!!  OMG is all I will say.. well ok, and this... I love the man, I would marry him in a flash and have pre-ordered his new album on vinyl!!!!!!! The clip to this track sees Billy looking his age and that beard doesn't help.... When we marry I'll definately shave that beard off... there is only room under my roof for one bearded man and that is obviously me!  Also, dear friends, please forgive Billy his grammatical craziness... between him and Nick Cave I don't know who is worser-er!

Billy Bragg- 'No One knows nothing anymore':

Inherited craziness

 I am generally saying and thinking the craziest things.... and I think I now know where I get this from...my mum.




This is how the end of a recent phone call with my mum went;


me: 'ok mum, I need to go, I might walk down the street and get some fish and chips for dinner'


Mum: 'Oh!!! Be careful!!!!'


me: 'Mum! It's in my street, I am just literally walking down my street'.


Mum: "It was on the news that someone was almost kidnapped in Pakenham!"
(which according to google search is 72.9 km's away from me),


me: 'Mum, I am just going down the street, I'll be ok'


Mum: I'm just saying be careful, you don't know who is out there!!'

I was going to respond with how I have stacked on the weight and they would need five men from Pakenham to lift me into the back of the van, but I just couldn't continue talking about potentially being kidnapped in my own street.



Now, some people might find this kind of sweet..... but the thing is Mum will likely call me later to make sure I wasn't kidnapped on my way to the fish and chip shop! And If I don't answer the phone she will panic. Now, if I was being kidnapped on my way back home, with fish and chips in hand and mum was around to see this, you can bet your bottom dollar that mum would be telling them off  and probably saying 'At least let him eat his dinner!!!'




What effect has this had on me? I am often thinking crazy things and taking them to insane conclusions, let me share:

Recently a mate was telling me how it was too hot for him to sleep in his house and I suggested, as he lived in the country, he pitch a tent in his backyard and sleep under the stars. He loved the idea and then my mind starts to wander, well if I had a son, how excited would he be if he slept under the stars in the backyard on a hot night!  I saw his big smile and joy beaming from him as he grabbed his torch, teddy bear and child size sleeping bag. Then, I did start to panic a little about mosquitoes and bugs, but calmed down reminding myself about mosquito netting in tents, so my son, wouldn't have to spray carcinogenic bug repellent all over himself...Then as I settle into this calm and lovely thought of my son, happy to be camping in the safety of our backyard, mosquito nets up, him behind that sitting on his child size sleeping bag with torch and teddy bear in hand...all is lovely until I am snapped out of it by 'OMG! what if while my son is sleeping in the backyard on a hot night, some crazy person jumps over our backyard fence and steals him ….. or worse!!!!' I start to hyperventilate, I am really freaking out. After what is surely only a few minutes but seems so much longer,  I somehow manage to calm down as I start to realise that I could stand guard and sleep in the backyard with my son... and then all is well.... well, until I think about how I am a heavy sleeper and my son could be stolen away from right next to me while I am snoring loudly, my loud snores  probably being how the child kidnapper zeroed in, in order to steal my son!!!!!'. It was all because of me!!!!! It was settled then, that NO MATTER WHAT, my son was to sleep indoors with window locks, deadlocks, alarm system and security cameras! ah, I was finally able to heave a huge sigh of relief.


The craziest thing of all is that I have no children.
I am blaming my state of craziness on my mother.
I love you mum.

Things that my dates and my friends think I need to stop doing… on dates.

A while back I sent out an email to men I had dated and asked what they thought I should stop doing when on a date...Yeah, huge I know.. I am really opening myself up here, but hey, you only live once, or something like that....Anyway, a few people responded with 'we haven't actually been out on a date'... yeah, embarrassing!! We had, but I wasn’t going to get myself into an email war! Well, at least not another one (too many good people were taken out by friendly fire in the last one). Anyway, there is the point that maybe, just maybe, I have dated fewer people than I think I have, or maybe, just maybe I was such a bad date that these people have suppressed the memory of me and the event. Both of these are of course highly unlikely and the true answer is probably that these crap dates were too lazy to write!

 Because I am a glutton for punishment, I also sent an email to my friends asking them what they think I should stop doing when on a date. My friends after all have repeatedly heard all about my disastrous dates. The most common response from dates and friends alike was "I haven't got enough time to write it all!!!" Second most common response was (and I am guessing this to be a highly sarcastic response), "Gee... That would be hard, you are the perfect date."

So far, no surprises, I mean seriously, I am single for a reason, and you know that haters are gonna hate... apparently. ;-)

 I’ll also admit that there is some truth in some of what was sent to me, such as: 'He fusses over the small things' and the spot on: ‘You over-analyse things too much’, an obvious pitfall of dating a counsellor! One friend and fellow counsellor actually told me I needed to stop counselling dates, when out on a date! But if I stop doing this, how else do I drum up new business? This friend also suggested that to better give me some helpful responses, she best observe me on a date and then write up a report outlining her recommendations! Yep, counsellors! They're a weird mob! So while I am big enough to admit that there was some truth in those comments... seriously, where does 'stop picking your nose at dinner' come from? Anyone that really knows me, knows I use a handkerchief!! I think people were just making stuff up because they could, like this next response demonstrates: ‘Stop dating unicorns off the internet’ WTF??? 

Speaking of 'stop dating' and 'internet', there was an overwhelming response from just about all of my friends, for me to stop meeting men online. They felt that guys who were online (and using the same sites that I am on), are of a poor quality and possibly all mentally unwell… which kind of made me unsure what my friends were saying about me, considering I am also on said sites!  As for improving my chances of meeting someone, my brother in-law suggested that I start going to the gym (and stop being overweight). Another friend similarly suggested that I desperately needed to improve my looks, but as that was not possible (poor me!), I needed to get rich as this would apparently make me 250% more attractive. Is it just me or are my friends shallow??

 Other practical suggestions were to relax my dress standards, because according to one friend “moccasins, trakkie dax, towelling shorts are all perfectly acceptable attire”..Hmmm I am still not sure how to respond to that one (and yes, I was just calling others shallow ;-))… Most disturbing of all though was one dear friend who suggested that I start “Exploring the other half, and thereby increasing the dating pool by 100%”. Fortunately none of my dates suggested this, otherwise I would really be worried!

So there it is, and whatever that 'is', I have no idea except that maybe I need to just keep doing what I am doing, because obviously no one else has given me decent suggestions. I'd say that if it ain't broke don't fix it, but I am not sure how that will help me find a nice decent, down to earth, smart and funny man to date and maybe start a family with.....Hmm, if only they could clone me, for me. That would be a definite win-win! ;-)


Mind you, I do recall previously blogging about how dating myself might not work... 

Being forty and buying underwear with my mum.

One recent rainy day, Mum and I decided to head out to a large shopping centre in the southern suburbs of Melbourne, just to browse and walk about a bit.  Being practical, I thought 'Hmm while I am here, I may as well buy some new underwear as the current stuff is starting to look a little worse for wear and you just never know when you might need to look your best!' So we saunter into a store (dare I let you all know it was 'Best for Less'?? ) and I suggest to mum that she and I browse separately. Mum  just looks at me and says matter of factly, "That's ok, I don't need anything, I'll come with you'.
I, wanting to buy underwear on my own, respond with 'Umm.. don't you need anything at all???.. like, not even to just have a look and see??"
Mum, without missing a heartbeat "No, I'll come with you"
This conversation is taking place as we walk closer and closer to the mens underwear section and I start to panic and get anxious-  "Mum, I need to buy underwear, so... can you go away and look at stuff while I browse?". In fact I think it was fair to say that there was a lot of pleading in my delivery, which mum just ignored as she grabbed some boxer shorts off the rack and said "I'll help you. What about these?" I stood there in silent disbelief. Mum was now peering inside at the tag of the boxers she was holding, then looked up giving my expanding waistline a once over glance and said brightly "Oh these are your size as well!" Sheepishly and as quietly as I could get away with, I looked at the ground and said 'I wear briefs now mum'. "SINCE WHEN???" came mums loud cry. And yes, it was all downhill from there.

I only have myself to blame. Up until a few years back my mum AND my AUNTY brought my underwear for me. ALL of my underwear. You have to understand that having them buy my boxer shorts, singlets and handkerchiefs was an easy out for me ( and yes you read right - handkerchiefs!).  You see my mother is ALWAYS asking 'what do you want for Christmas', seriously, always! One Christmas I recall being disappointed over a gift and mum seeing this and realising what it was I would have preferred said 'did you want me to get that for you, next Christmas?'..Then there was also the questions of, 'your aunty wants to know what you want for Christmas'......You know what, unless it is December, Christmas presents are not on my radar. These Christmas questions never stop, NEVER stop. They only become more frequent as the days get closer to Christmas, by June, you'll receive AT LEAST a weekly 'have you decided what you want for christmas yet?'question. So you can see, by being able to say  'oh, I need underwear' it was an easy out for me... I am not sure why I stopped, I guess I had so much underwear that it was not needed. In fact, I am sure that I had so much that I could have started my own underwear store for men with a 32inch waistline (who like me, might also be slowly but surely edging closer to a size 40)..... anyway, now I am in this awkward pickle.

No one wants to buy underwear with their mum. At least no MAN does. I kept looking at briefs and wondering if they were too fitted or sexualised and what would my mother think of them.... yes I agree, I obviously have issues! Mum did pick up a white pair of trunk-type fitted boxers and asked 'what about these'? Yep, white underwear.... 'Mum, there are reasons why you don't wear white underwear'. She just looks at me perplexed and then innocently asks  'what reasons?'..I think at this point I covered my face with my hands, and lowered my head as I shook it slowly from side to side. I just couldn't have THAT conversation with my mother...and yes, apparently I am a grown man. You see,  I just imagined  my mum saying really loudly, matter of factly and all the while, trying to be helpful 'well, you just need to shake IT properly or wipe yourself properly after you use the toilet! and you won't have that problem!' Yes, my mum is full of great practical advice.

Anyway to make matters worse, after I bravely brought some underwear (and in case you were wondering, I brought some square, loose fitting, genderless, non sexualised underwear that were as far removed as could be from the low hipster tight, form fitting white briefs that seemed to be placed at my mums eye level (we are a short family. I sometimes wonder if we are technically 'tall dwarfs' ), anyway... when we finally got to the cashier to pay for my non sexualised, nondescript undergarments.. my mum pulls out her seniors card and asks if the store gives a seniors discount.... The young sales assistant must have heard it all and responded with a nonchalant 'no sorry',  to which my mother shot this poor girl down with a look of absolute contemptment. Mum then looks over at me and gives me one of those 'Can you believe this??!!' looks. She then lets out a loud unimpressed noise of sorts, then a 'TSK' as she shakes her head from side to side. All the while I was praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I could see the headlines flashing before my eyes, 'forty year old bald man, shopping for underwear with his mother, dies at Best for Less' as the ground opens up beneath him'.

Maybe I should go back to having my mum and aunty buy my underwear for me? But then, knowing my luck they would now want to make an outing of it and we would all go together to shop for my underwear. I suppose if my cousin is off work that day as well, she could join us. Hell, why not have a whole extended family outing to help me buy my underwear? The more the merrier. I'll be forty one by then. I cannot wait.

Things I need to stop doing on dates

Recently I have been 'back out there' and dating. It has been fun, awkward and odd...often all at the same time. I am learning on my feet about the whole dating world and it's rules, of which everyone seems to have their own and no one shares the rules before hand. Well, that was before I came on the scene and created a little book of 'What Not to Do', which I hand out to all prospective dates. Some examples from this book have recently been posted here.

This has also got me thinking about what I should stop doing. As you can imagine, I am a little left of centre and sometimes, possibly, maybe not so fun to be around. Highly doubtable of course, but putting that in makes me look humble. So anyway, some of the things I need to stop doing on dates are:

- going on a second date because of guilt. I shouldn't commit to a second date if I am not attracted to a guy. Just because he seems to be a really nice guy, has been rejected by other men in the past and the fact that I am not TOTALLY REPULSED by him, are not reasons for a second date. 

- Kissing a guy because of guilt... Hmm, is there a pattern forming here??

- Ignoring that voice in my head. On a few occasions it has strongly suggested that my trip to the toilet become an escape from the date. I have actually sized up bathroom windows and tried to calculate if I and my every growing 'handles of love', can squeeze through, but guilt (yet again) and a history of crap practical application of maths, has led me back to my date (with my head hung low).

- On the first date or two, pointing out the things to the date that I don't like in them. Actually, I probably don't even need to point these things out ever... I am sure that my look of disgust at his moccaSINs are more than enough. God blessed me with an honest face that gives all of my thoughts and feelings away.

- Which leads on to 'being too honest'. It probably is impolite to say to a date 'actually, I'm a little BORED'. Or if they apologise for doing something they feel is inappropriate, I don't really need to screw up my face, shake my head from left to right and say 'yeah, that wasn't good'. 

- Speaking of my head, I probably should stop hanging my head to the side or drooping it on the table and sighing heavily when I am bored or not interested.

- I also need to stop letting dates turn into counselling sessions and free ones at that! Over dinner at a nice restaurant, is not really the time to explore in-depth, the date's part in his fractured and failed past relationships nor current traumatic family events.

- Which leads onto my asking about his maturity regarding his finances. We all make mistakes, but if you earn $1500 a week and can't justify where your money goes, my parental face comes out and I start to talk to him about budgeting, his purchases and his financial 'want's' and 'needs'. I should probably stop that, even though my date should really be thanking me for taking the time to help him. On the plus side, if I did cease my free financial counselling during dates, I wouldn't need to keep carrying around blank budget sheets!

- I know that it is kind of wrong to flirt or lead a guy on, not because I like him, but because I am either bored or lonely, so I should consider stopping that. Yeah ok! It is not 'kind of wrong', It is wrong, full stop!

I know it kind of sounds like I might be a smidge of a terrible person...and a nightmare date of gigantic proportions (dare I say datezilla?), but that is not true.. I think.. But then, I am still single....so, go figure...



Do you have anything that you think you need to stop doing on dates?