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Woohoo!
On a whim yesterday, I had the brilliant (???) idea of getting a microphone, and then proceeded to write and record the first of hopefully many in a series that I’d like to call, “Don’t call it a podcast”. Seriously, don’t call it a podcast - it’s just an mp3 file, right?
For a first attempt I think it’s not too bad. Heheh. I already know I should learn to speak slower. Please tell me what you think. Is it lame? Is it embarassing? Should I even bother?
I find that it’s surprisingly easier speaking than writing a blog post because I don’t have to worry about spelling and grammar so much. So if the response from you is favourable, it’s definitely a do-er. You can even suggest some story ideas. Note that I can’t do voices or impressions.
I am still suffering the common cold and these are my home remedies which I find works for me.
Drinking lots of water - the body loses a lot through the mucus and phlegm; peeing a lot gets rid of the toxins and reduces fever.
You are not supposed to drink cold drinks because it exacerbates the coughing but it relieves hot flushes and fever. Depending on how I feel at the time, it’s a choice of the lesser of two evils.
Breathing in steam with a little bit of Vicks helps a lot. Chinese parents would say to not shower when you are sick, but the shower steam clears my sinuses. Relieves some of the body aches too.
Hot Toddy - an English concoction of brandy or whiskey with warm water and honey. It soothes the throat and makes me sleepy. Mili taught me this.
A little of alcohol is good to help me sleep, but I know not to drink like I would normally. It weakens the immune system.
I don’t smoke regularly anymore but this is an obvious no-no. I don’t know how some smokers can continue smoking when they’re coughing their lungs out. Any kind of smoke - burning, BBQ, cigarettes or incense gives me a coughing fit and runny nose instantly.
I find it easier to fall asleep if I sleep in a semi-upright position, like on a reclined car seat, or with high double-pillows, especially when I’m coughing badly. Neck pain is possible but a good night sleep is worth it.
Avoiding the TV and computer - concentrating on the screens give me a headache.
Vicks Vaporub really helps, and so does strong mints. The mints help soothe a sore throat too.
All that and moderate amounts of Cold+Flu tablets - I don’t like feeling high all the time, especially when I’m at work. It just doesn’t feel right. Heh. I should be back 100% hopefully tomorrow - it’s the weekend!
coming back to house filled with people is always good
Snoop the dog gets more attention
More conversations
Though there’s also the bad stuff:
gotta turn down the volume earlier than usual
everyone bumping into each other a lot, which leads to …
people rubbing each other the wrong way, thus more annoyances and arguments
Generally though, the good outweighs the bad. And it’s only three more months till the extension is ready. It’s looking good - amazingly spacious. I’m already thinking of the home theatre setup already. That will be my house-warming gift for my parents.
Oh yeah I left out one more good thing: getting looked after when I’m sick. Which I am now, hence the lack lustre performance here. But with mom’s loving care (awww) I’ll be back to normal soon!
The “bogan” is a quintessential part of Australian culture. They are the equivalent of “white trash” and “chavs”. A kinder description would be to call them “less enlightened” or less exposed to the wider world and the way modern society acts and behaves.
The bogan was lovingly portrayed in movies such as “The Castle” and “Muriel’s Wedding“, and in TV shows like “Kath and Kim” and Eric Bana’s character Poida (Peter) in “Full Frontal”.
If you live in Australia and you’ve seen the movies, then you’d know the characters are not exaggerations. They do exist. In Steph’s latest adventure, appropriately titled “A Very Bogan Wedding” we get a glimpse into her very bogan relations:
… a very proud, flag waving, bogan* relative of mine, was married on the weekend, and I laughed so much I cried. I’m not a bogan hater, in fact, I have many relatives of this breed. My own father, a born and bred country boy from Forbes in country NSW, is as feral as can be. How he managed to attract and marry an English, boarding school, university educated, all around classy chick like my mum is totally beyond me. But I digress.
I heart me some bogans.
And it gets better. Think of this exchange in “Muriel’s Wedding”:
Tania: He says they’re not sleeping together. She only sucks him off.
Cheryl: Why?
Tania: Out of respect for me.
Nicole: Bitch.
And you’d get an idea of what Steph witnessed at the wedding and more. Go on and have a laugh. And rent out the movies after.
I have a very short fuse but it’s only my immediate family who has the misfortune of seeing me lose my temper badly. Outside my family, I hold it back pretty well. Even when I have dust-ups with the boss, it’s mild in comparison.
However, if I can’t hold it back anymore it blows up just as badly as it does around my family. Thus far, these incidents have happened exclusively in nightclubs - a total of four times.
Twice, it involved female strangers who thought that they could behave badly and expected me to quietly eat it up, just because I’m a small Asian man and they were female. Once it was me yelling at an out of control female friend who was drunk.
The fourth and most recent time happened on Saturday night at The Deen.
Here’s how it went down …
Muttley* and his two mates barged through the crowd towards the bar and starts to loudly berate and gesture two Asian guys to get away from the bar. The two Asians had got their drinks and moved away without getting too upset about it all. I was at the bar next to these two guys, and I was thinking,
Just try the same shit on me buddy, just try it …
The mutts’ behaviour was bordering on racist. And even if it wasn’t I suspect that they thought they could pull this shit on meek looking Asians and get away with it.
At that time I had been patiently waiting at the bar with Simon for 10 minutes. Muttley put his drink in between us and shoved in. I took a deep breath and let it go then - Simon had already ordered the drinks, so no harm no foul. Yet.
The drinks came and at the exact same moment, Muttley stepped back away from the bar. I leaned over to get my drink from Simon and this was when the fireworks happened.
Muttley: HEY! You fucking cut me off! Where’s your fucking manners?!
Me: *took a second deep breath, handed Muttley’s drink back to him*
Muttley: Fucking idiots …
Me: *I snapped* GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!
Muttley: *Took a step back*
Me: *eyes all bugged out and yelling at the top of my voice now* Yeah I’m fucking smaller than you! What!? Go on! Push in again! Fucking do it! Go on, piss me off again!!!
At this stage, Simon was holding me back and Muttley’s friends were holding him back. I could see the look of bewilderment on his face, like he couldn’t quite understand what just happened. I seethed and stared at his group till they walked off.
When I took my drink again, my hands were shaking. The rage that overcame me so suddenly scared even myself. Only then did I think about being lucky to not be yanked out of there by the bouncers, or worse - being punched or having something broken over my head.
I overheard another guy who’d witnessed this said to Simon, “Shit dude. Your friend is funny. ‘I’m smaller than you!’ That’s awesome.”
Except that I didn’t think that it was funny or awesome. It was dumb. Losing one’s temper in a nightclub is a potentially dangerous thing. I said this the past times that this has happened and yet it still happens.
How timely it was on Friday that I talked about “When are you too old to party?“. Maybe it’s not when I’d lose my energy and drive to go out. Rather it might be when I deem that I’m too dangerous to myself because I can’t tolerate other people’s bad behaviour anymore.
Perhaps I should look into being a practising Buddhist instead of just one in name. If I’m gonna be clubbing still, I think I could use the calmness. If not the calmness, then at least a balance between being a pushover and letting loose with blind rage.
Triple J’s Hack program recently did a piece asking the question, “When are you too old to party?” You can listen to it below. Some of the people in the story stopped at 24! Weak!
I’m 32 this year, turning 33 in December. When do I think I will stop partying and clubbing? I think I’ve mentioned before that I think my body will give out before my mind does. I will stop once I can’t stay up as long as I wished to and it starts to hurt the next morning. Not that it doesn’t hurt now and again currently, but a couple of hours after I wake up I can be up for it again.
Sometimes I amaze myself with my energy and enthusiasm, and that I still haven’t got sick of listening to house and trance music. Good trance music especially is like a narcotic for me because it makes me smile.
My alcohol intake is moderate and controlled and I don’t overly rely on party drugs. So, maybe I can keep it up till I’m 40? Who knows. Many of the world’s famous DJs are still spinning past their 40s so it’s not that strange.
The question is: what does society think of a clubber who’s past his 40s? Irresponsible? Immature? If I’m a Clark Kent during the week, can’t I be PartyMan on the weekend? If I earn my own keep, have good finances and manage to save a little, what’s the harm if I don’t overdo it?
Of course, I speak like this now because I’m single and because I don’t look my age at all. I might think differently when the young girls start to think as me as that creepy old guy who still clubs and looks at them. Heh.
Maybe then I will say to myself, “Ok, that’s enough.” Then again, maybe not.
