A fine, if rather windy day today. Jimmy and I dec…
A fine, if rather windy day today. Jimmy and I decided to go to Manly, so we hopped on a train over to downtown and walked to circular quay. Is it just me, or does anyone else think that circular quay is rather, erm, square? Shouldn’t they call it the square quay? Or perhaps the rectangle quay? The name circular would seem to connote roundness where it doesn’t exist. I’m sure there’s some sort of historical explanation I am unaware of, concerning British people and some sort of aquatic fowl. At least I’ve stopped pronouncing quay “kway”.
We walked past the person dressed up as either Satanic Barbie or a post-accident drag queen who stands nearly motionless on the docks until enough people gather round, whereupon he or she will do something startling like bend over or move its arms. I have to admire its restraint. I would be sorely tempted to wait until people got within punching distance and just have at it.
The ferry to Manly was a lot bigger than I had expected; there was hardly any motion at all on the way over. Once we disembarked, the entire crowd headed en masse to the beach on the other side. The brilliant blue of the ocean over there is almost startling upon first sight, and the pristine white sand looked like it had recently returned from the dry cleaners. The flies must have ferry tickets, though, because they followed us everywhere.
We walked up and down the beach, doing more envying of the people who lived there than actually appreciating the beach. Lunch was fish and chips, which were excellent of course. Seagulls nearly attacked us while demanding some chips, and I wondered whether telling them to sod off in Chinese would work. I can be more rude in Chinese, you see, because there’s less of a chance of nearby authority figures knowing exactly whose mother I am referring to.
After wandering up and down the street a couple of times and clicking our tongues at all the disgustingly athletic people lying on the beach, we went for some drinks at a place called “Charlie’s”. The shop has a small picture of Charlie Chaplin on the front and is situated close to a McDonald’s. How close I didn’t realize until I got the strawberry shake I ordered and found that they apparently have some sort of food-sharing relationship going on with Macca’s. In other words, it was disgusting. Not even the flies wanted it.
The wind was picking up as we took the ferry back to rectangle quay. By the time we caught sight of the harbour bridge, nearby small boats were being capsized by the gusts. The tourists on the ferry lent a hand to the would-be sailors struggling in the water by taking pictures and saying “Oh, dear” a lot.
As we walked back to the train station, I kept looking around to see if I recognized any scenes from the Matrix, but I couldn’t recall a single one. I’ll have to watch that movie again, I guess (as if I wasn’t going to anyway). We caught the train along with roughly six million commuters, and I was seated next to a man wearing enough cologne for all of them. I just hope that I came away free of the smell of Brut or Polo or Horse or whatever it was. Eau de Poagao is the only fragrance this monkey wears.
We went to Coles for groceries and Jimmy made delicious Shuijiao, or steamed dumplings, for dinner. Before we ate I turned on the TV and Survivor was on. I watched for a bit but had to turn it off before convulsions of disgust prevented me from lifting the chopsticks necessary to eat my meal. Why do they even bother with the whole Africa shtick? These people could be in an office and have exactly the same problems, because in the end it’s all about cubicle politics. It’s the same cubicle politics most people have to deal with every day, so I don’t really see the difference between it and Jerry Springer, Ricki Lake, or any of those shows aimed primarily at victims of violent lobotomies performed with ice-cream scoops.
Tomorrow might be interesting. Something stupid definitely could happen tomorrow.
