I’ve been thinking quite a bit about no parking areas recently, such is the state of my life.
In the city, near where I work, there’s a corner block that’s always full of motorbikes, despite the quite-specific “No bike parking” sign.
I reckon they should replace that sign with “Free Bikes”, hang up some bunting and install a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man. This would certainly give me pause before leaving my pride and joy unattended. And as a bonus, those brave bikers who do leave their metal stallions behind will learn the hard way when someone comes along and accepts the offer, nicking off with their trusty steed.
In fact I think all “No parking” signs should be ditched. Because almost without exception, you can park where the sign is, and often it’s quite a good parking spot. It’s not like they’re at the top of a tree or in the fridge. It’s just that you’re not supposed to park there. And more specifically, that you’ll be fined if you do.
So why not stop with the fancy-pants wordplay and tell it like it is: “Parking: $60”.
And for the primo spots, “Parking: $100”.
No more bus lanes, either, with the new and improved “Fast lane: $240 per km”.
It would open up all sorts of parking, and bring in lots of money to be distributed to taxpayers based on gender and race. If you want to park on the footpath outside a 7-eleven, no probs, Bob, that’ll be $30 per 30 seconds.
It’s actually a great way to award the rich a little something extra for being rich.
It’s a brilliant idea and now that I’ve aired it, I expect change post haste.
(True story, I was once so busting for a piss that I parked in Pitt St mall and ran into Skygarden to relieve myself. In a 14 foot 1980’s Mercedes no less. I walked out of Skygarden feeling like God himself.)
I saw a pretty girl this afternoon with a T-shirt that read Love is blind and I thought no one loves her.
You know how they try and make cigarette packets look gross in the hope that smokers won’t want to be seen with them? I think that’s silly. They should put bigoted phrases on them instead.
Like “Gas the Jews, you missed a few” with a swastika background, and “I like my niggers how I like my beer. Cold and dead.” And — for the coloured smokers “kill whitey” although that’s not really so bad. Whitey kinda deserves it.
You may be wondering “what about the people that like these sayings, they won’t be deterred” — and that’s the beauty part: we want these people to die from lung cancer, they need all the encouragement they can get.
I’ve decided to be more accepting this year. Particularly of apologies. I went into the kitchen at work during the week and someone was in front of the water dispenser. They saw me waiting and said “sorry” and stepped out of the way. “Apology accepted”, I said, as I filled up my cup half way.
I liked how weird the room felt, so decided to make a thing of it.
I’ve been apology accepting all over the place and it’s amazing how many opportunities there are in the average day (of which all of mine are). I can easily get three or four just by hanging out in the supermarket and pretending to want something on the shelf right were a woman with a pram is. They’re always sorry.
Speaking of prams, I’ve been thinking about how some ideas are really good, but are rejected for no better reason than that they seem a bit odd. Like, carrying a baby in a bucket. A bucket is a great contraption for the task. Firstly, they’re almost all baby-sized. They’re affordable — great for people too poor to be having children, in my opinion.
They can be stashed anywhere, provided that you have room for a bucket-shaped object.
And they can carry other things at the same time as a baby. Like, one baby and six apples and some cloth would all easily fit in the same bucket. I reckon you could even fit one normal baby and a preemie in the same bucket.
I actually hesitated before writing “I prefer to keep my preemies in an empty coffee cup”. Maybe that’s too wrong to put into writing.
Oh and of course, there’s the handle!
I recently decided that I’d introduce talking to strangers as a new aspect of my personality.
I figured asking lost-looking people if they were lost was a pretty good conversation starter. I asked two people during day one of this experiment (of one) if they were lost. Experimental interaction one, an older couple, suggested that Siri was doing just fine, she just needed a little time, and that I would not be required. I said ‘sorry’ in a sarcastic tone and they said ‘apology accepted’ and I stamped my food and yelled Yahtzee to no one in particular.
Experimental interaction two, a young lady, admitted to her being lost, accepted my offer of help and — seriously, I’m not making this up — she wanted to go to my office building, to level 2, where I work. The path there is this convoluted mess of escalators and walkways that’s impossible to describe, so I couldn’t in all conscience pretend I had to go for a jog all of a sudden and leave her to it. So I walked with her the 500 miles, along the way learning that she a) walks super slowly and b) doesn’t “know many English” and c) has a tendency to head off in the wrong direction even though surely the only obvious direction was at all times to follow me. Like, just be where I was 7 seconds ago and you’ll be fine love, this isn’t IKEA furniture.
So, no more stranger helping for me, but I’m glad I gave it a crack.