Thursday, June 17, 2004

I think a lot while walking to uni. Here's a rough recreation of the thoughts that went through my head in the last 15-20 minutes:

She's a P-plater. I wonder if you're allowed to park so close to a kiddie crossing. Fucking council, fine me for parking on my own median strip. Should I tell Sandor it's all his fault? Hmm, maybe I should write to the church and get them to pay it out of 'Christian charity'. Ugh, Delta Fucking Goodrem. Is it so very wrong of me to want to graffiti on that Pepsi poster: "Come back cancer, all is forgiven"? Should I blog that? No, people would condemn me, especially Guy. He is such a sucker for trashy middle-aged-woman power pop; he even likes Celine Dion.

Maybe I should do "Hot in Herre" for karaoke. I don't know, I'm not sexy enough to pull off songs through sheer stage antics, I'll need something I can actually sing. And the rock songs are better for that. But I fucking hate the bogan posing that goes along with them, air guitar and such. I did it the last time to be ironic, but it was really about the song. "Living on a Prayer" is just a great enjoyable song to sing. Also, my musical tastes run more to rap but rap doesn't really have the spectacle I'm after. I really like anyone who can begin their rap verse: "My outfit's ridiculous." Go Ludacris. Was Lil Jon shouting along with him in the "touch your toes" bit?

Ha! Ha! Ha! A van outside the hospital with "Stacks of Snacks" written on the side. It's a chocolate bar delivery van. I wonder if they deliver to Stacks of Slacks?! It says "Have chocolates delivered to your office ring 1800 blah blah blah..." What's an office ring? Ohh, you have to ring the number. They needed a comma in there. It's like "Eats Roots and Leaves." Fuck these stupid busted shoes, I should buy some more black Mary Jane flats. No, can't afford it, I have 29 other pairs of shoes. But I wear these so often! Oh, that woman has her top tucked tightly into her high-waisted jeans. I wonder if it's a bodysuit. I bet it is. And a blazer! That looks so bad! And those clumpy high-heeled laceup shoes that Jasmine used to wear. The worst kind of late-90s ho shoes.

Shane the Preston ho is a retart. Sure is. If I had a kid, would I dress it in miniature ugg boots? I think not. But like Isabelle was saying, until the kid has the sentience to realise the humiliating nature of its clothing, you can dress it however the fuck you like. My mum used to tuck my jumpers in when I was little, I realised how daggy that was at age four when my kinder friends laughed at me.

Jesus Christ, that woman is dressed almost entirely in black leather! Black leather 3/4 length coat, black leather knee-high boots, black leather gloves, carrying a black leather valise... Only thing wrong is her long peroxide hair; I wonder if you could get black leather hair. No, but you could get black leather skin. Well, not really black, it would be chocolate brown. Mmmm, how crazy would it be to dress in leather the same colour as your skin? That's so twisted! It could be the next hip-hop look. Better add that to Mel's Fashion Predictions for 2005.

I wonder if Gemma's finished her goddamn confirmation yet. I bet she hasn't. I realise I'm not one to talk, writing my final thesis chapter on the day it was handed in and having to give this gay footballer article to the SMH today and I haven't started writing it yet, but for fuck's sake! It's funny isn't it, how in these post-Christian days we don't say "For God's sake!", we say "For fuck's sake!" I bet fucking Andrew Bolt would have something to say about that. Interesting, even so, that we don't take God in vain, we take the holy institution of fucking in vain. But back to Gemma. I just don't understand why she can't just slap together some crap and hand that in. It doesn't have to be the Nobel Prize for Literature!

And why hasn't Brett done something more about it? It's casting postgrads adrift to write whatever they want, in whatever timeframe they want, that leads to people getting hopelessly bogged down, and even quitting and going to Publishing and Communications like Penny did. Oh sure, it's easy to block out that your student misses deadline after deadline: less work for you in your crowded workday. But then there's the other extreme, where the student not only submits things to you all the time, but has the temerity to be proactive, to submit timelines and keep you posted on her every development, to ask you about concepts and pick your brains about journals and academics and departments and PhD applications. God, how annoying that must be to the academic who really resents the time that having to supervise postgrad students takes away from his valuable teaching and research!

I wonder if other universities are like this. Seriously, maybe it's not such an insane idea to be enrolled at a Sydney university but still live in Melbourne, if their academics don't give a rat's about whether you see them or hand stuff in to them. Plus, they don't even have confirmation up there: you can do whatever the fuck you want. But ironically it would work best the other way around, if you lived in Sydney and were enrolled at Melbourne University. Why does this shitty department have to be in such a great city? Ha! There was something funny on the radio last night; some lit crit was saying that Bloomsday is "like St Patrick's Day for academics." Ha! Ha!

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