Anyway then I was driving in the right lane on the freeway and had set the cruise control to 107km/h [you know because there is an understanding that you can go faster because by being in the right lane you indicate to others that you’re a hard core, skilled driver that was probably the inspiration for the entire Fast n’ Furious franchise]. Anyway I then saw a police car, freaked out that I needed to slow down but then with lightning fast (and perhaps a little irrelevant) reasoning, I thought that by pressing the brakes the brake lights would be an obvious indication to the policeman that I was speeding. So instead I tried to slow down using the stupid-cruise-control-gadget-piece-of-crap in my car, only there are too many lever things and I ended up putting on my high beam lights and flashing oncoming traffic. I was subsequently pulled over NOT for speeding, but for alerting my fellow driving-comrades of the police car by flashing them…which FYI is apparently a worse offence.
Anyway needless to say, given my current level of immediate debt owed to the government (excluding a large, non-current debt HECS loan that may or may not be paid before I move to the Cayman Islands), it all left me feeling like I needed to get one back against The Man. You know just so I could get to the end of the month and shout out to the world, “fuck you Man, yes my fines may be more than what I’ve budgeted for my monthly living expenses, yes you may have now created a drinking game dictated by the number of ‘Request for Internal Review’ letters I have written to you, yes you faceless scumbag may actually have a point given I technically deserve all of these fines because I have broken the law… but fuck you Man…fuck you” [then I’d climb on top of my perennial offending car and give The Man the double-bird…as a side note the only other time I have used the double-bird was when I was 14 at a friendly, community netball match to dispute an umpire decision…needless to say I have been told I have ‘issues with authority’ on more than one occasion].
But how to get back at The Man. How to deliver a cut so deep that The Man never even thinks of giving you a slight look, let alone a parking fine again? … I know…this is something that will hurt so badly that The Man decides to flee the Earth and start a mimosa bar on another planet [note I’ve only mentioned ‘mimosa bar’ because I actually don’t know what it is and was hoping that you could tell me…obviously its below my importance threshold required for me to actually Google it]. Anyway, after careful consideration I’ve decided that I’m going to walk out during a miscellaneous Leonardo DiCaprio movie and shout “this guy is a shit actor” much to the collective gasps of the entire audience. Why? This is because after doing absolutely no research I’m going to assume that The Man likes Leonardo DiCaprio movies and says things like “he’s such a great actor, did you see him in Blood Diamond?”…fuck I hated that his accent-rollercoaster between South African and American was deemed ‘amazing’…more because I get told my hilarious South African cricket player impersonations are racist and/or sound Russian. Anyway, you may be thinking that was just a lame segway from parking fines to start making crap jokes about Leonardo DiCaprio but be warned …when I do walk out of a Leo movie it will be big…possibly bigger than the royal baby…not as in the physical size of the royal baby because I fully expect that to be normal but as in the size of the news space dedicated to the size of the royal baby. Why am I talking about the royal baby?
Ah dear the incomprehensible ramble above leaves me with one thing…Fuck this month. I’m going to go buy more fleece tights. They are actually warmer than any pants that I own and given the way this month has gone, I might as well come out and admit that these fleece tights have forced me to reconsider the worthiness of Jeggings-worn-as-pants. They make me happy.