Before I start, I just want to say I wrote this whole blog 10 minutes ago and accidentally deleted it. If you don't like it, rest easy knowing it was better the first time around. I swear...
Bought a suit today. (Has it come to this? Am I really just going to start discussing the minutiae of my daily life? Yes. Yes I am.) Quite chuffed. Couldn't believe how good looking the man in the mirror was. I asked Brad to move out of the way, and was still pleased with the effect. It was difficult to find a suit conservative-yet-snappy enough to match my "scissors only thanks, I haven't had number three on the sides for years" haircut. It's a vision in lightly-pinstriped charcoal, and makes me look 20kgs lighter, although that could have more to do with the handful of $10 and $20 notes I offloaded onto the slightly bemused saleslady. It's $525 of legal tender isn't it? Not all of us make the trip to The Big Pineapple as often as high flying Chatswood Chase retail assistants. Suit party anyone?
On another note: lost my rugby grand final on the weekend. Didn't cut me up too much, but it'll probably sink in later this week when someone asks me for the Robertson Cup and I have to say "nah mate, sorry, lost it on the weekend". Damn. I felt like my life had come a long way as I lined up for Barker Old Boys against the King's Old Boys in an epic "silver spoons at twenty paces" battle. It pissed down rain and we lost. Awesome times. It was good to hear the crowds cheering on "anyone but Barker" too. Just because we serve champagne and wine at our nice oval at Turramurra and use custom made balls with our club logo on them doesn't mean we're wankers or "privileged". It just means we love rubbing our higher SES into people's faces. Does that make us bad people?
Finally: after the deaths of Steve Irwin and Peter Brock, I felt I had no emotion left to give, until Michael "Micky" Schumacher announced his retirement from Formula One last night. Without you in Formula One Michael, who will crash into a wall before steering their car back onto the track to hit title rival Damon Hill, or throw their car into Jacques Villeneuve at 150mph even though it won't help them win the title, or make their team mate pull over within metres of the finish line to let them past, or stop their car in the middle of a 40kmh corner to disrupt their rivals' qualifying lap and later claim they "made a mistake"? Most importantly, who will celebrate joyfully on the podium as Ayrton Senna is pronounced dead following a fatal crash in the same race? Who will fill the gap you leave in the sport? Who will turn winning-at-all-costs into an art? WHO?
Stone cold Circumstances
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