Neglect

Apparently, this is called 'commuting'. Not too shabby.

Yes, in case anyone was wondering, we have made it to Sydney in one piece.

I just haven't quite worked out how to fit blogging in yet.

There's absolutely no way I can manage it at work and the idea of blogging in my own time is still somehow a bit perverse.

And then there was that whole 2-month battle with Optus just to get the frikkin' internet on (note to self, badmouth Optus at every opportunity).

Did I mention that Optus sucks? No?

Well they do. They suck balls.

If I'd had the time, I would have mostly been doing some stock standard, out of the box, formulaic blogging about recent fashion trends.

Ie, 'I saw le specs for sale the other day. Honest to goodness le specs! What's up with that?!'

And other sundry moaning about skinny-leg jeans and asymmetrical hair lines.

My other main griping activity has been focussed on the residents of the lower north shore suburb in which I work. I don't know how, but when I go up the road at lunch time to grab a $17 salad sandwich, I manage to feel underdressed in a suit.

There's just something about a gold faux suede rain coat in a 32 degree February day that is. not. right.

Oh, sorry, that should be pronounced 'raaahht'.

And that quiche will be 'twenty faaaahv dollaahhhs dahling'.

To get a coffee at the local cafe each morning, I have to wade through a mass of 5 year-olds in prep school uniforms picking up their babycino and vegemited sourdough.

Don't get me wrong, it's not all bad.

I'm bound to clean up sooner or later with a lucrative personal injury lawsuit. It's just a matter of time before one of the billions of luxury four wheel drives mounts the pavement and runs me down.