Welcome Aboard Ladies!!

Greetings to you also, buddy boy…

Hey there folks. It’s Mister Itchy bum himself online here; rocking and rubbing from side to side in this rickety old director’s chair. If only I had a spare hand to scratch with, girlfriends. It sure is delightful to find a post from two lovely ladies from the wild wild west. Who is that blonde bombshell pictured with you, Ms Obedie? I would sure love to be pressed up close to her bosoms like that watering can, right now. Maybe you can pass on my number? You and I are the luckiest fellas in cyberspace wouldn’t you agree, Larry, I mean Lars…sorry old pal, I’m getting you mixed up with the deranged serial killer in my novel; he’s been stuck in my head for days; I almost feel like his dopelganger.
By the way, you sure are one wise, witty woman, Ms Obedie; can I compliment you on your fine camera work; you even made me look photogenic in this remarkable expose of country life in the inner city. I’m so proud; you managed to capture my burgeoning pot belly. It’s the fattest I’ve been in years; you aint the only one piling on the puppy fat, Lars Anderstrum. I do wish you included my brand new punk shoes, however; they’re the drawcard of this outfit, my dear.
You sure missed one mighty fine picnic by the charming ol’ Yarra, Lars. Ms Obedie rocked up with a buffed up stud and her delightful daughter, Suschi. She had that babe in one arm and a bottle of rose tucked under the other! She presented me with a delicious cupcake with a candle in the centre; I presumed it was laced with hashish and fed it to the goats. You never know with them environmental types; they’re always fooling around with hallucinogenic plants or boiling up magic mushrooms.
A fabulous time was had by all, blowing our party horns and sucking lollipops in the sunshine. It was the best birthday I ever had (that I can remember) and it was far superior than the last two I spent in a hospital bed. Those nurses jabbed me with syringes left, right and centre and I didn’t even get to choose the darn drug! Unfortunately no one brought plates to the shindig so we had to dish up the potato salad on the cardboard invites supplied by one inventive party goer. Of course there were other gourmet dishes like pesto pasta salad and roasted corn cobs and we washed those kernels down with strawberry champagne and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish cream. One party goer was inclined to show us how skilled she was at fitting a stack of those horns in her mouth all at once! The whole crowd was impressed, particularly myself, being a fellatio fanatic from way back. Ms Obedie was kind enough to share her classy bottle of Rose and drank us under the table, of course. That foxy mama sure can polish off the flutes; although she’s settled down since her wild days’ of popping pills and rampant bisexuality in the nightclubs of Fitzroy!
Mind you, it was the antics of the children that were the highlight of the day; little Uschi had us in stitches diving into the chocolate brownies, crying ‘cuddles, mummy, cuddles’ and ‘shokolade, mummy, shokolade.’ Meanwhile, four year old Kahli was tearing about wearing fairy wings, waving her magic wand and making us slur our words and get all dizzy in the head. You sure know you’re getting old when your friends turn up with children, buddy. I had birthday cake and booze coming out my ears by the end of the day and we were all high as kites on sugar, tootin’ them horns at passers by and blowing bubbles of detergent at the donkeys and cows. Ms Obedie blew the biggest bubble I ever saw and it popped me right in the face; I was seeing stars and bubbles, fairies and queens all at once, buddy!
Excuse me for a moment while I check out the fine black American specimen who just walked into this café in Brunswick. I’m choking on my decaf latte and I’m too nervous to even look up from this notepad. Especially since I got a nasty ol’ golden staph infection right here on my face; it’s kind o’ like a giant weeping scab on my chin and I was just at the clinic getting the damn thing swabbed. Yo, Ms Obedie; why don’t I hire you to create a photographic AIDS journal before you pick up those garden tools?
My, I don’t think I’ve seen such a fine specimen of a man since I smoked that fella’s crackpipe in San Francisco, honey. Thank the lord I’m drinking decaf; I’m shakin’ all over as it is!
Anyhow, Lars, we wrapped up the day with a game of ‘Fantales trivia’ back at my public housing pad. The little ones converted my bed into a trampoline while Ms Obedie told us about all the boys you made out with on that shabby old mattress. She also talked about her love of Phil Collins, that fine musician from the USA. Uschi tried to strangle my teddy bear, Oscar, to death and I praise the lord those children never found my stash of AIDS drugs and anti depressants!
There’s not much to tell after that, buddy. I spent the next week eating left over cake and chocolate, taking antibiotics for my staph infection and herbal sedatives for insomnia. For some reason I was full of angst after turning 34 and I suspect it was something to do with that Scorpio full moon smouldering in the cosmos. So I trust you enjoyed this relatively smut free diatribe and I hope we get to see a photograph of you real soon, my little cream puff!

Love to y’all
JJ

where are you?

hey you two... I finally get around to writing on this blog and you're both nowhere to be seen. I am actually sick at the moment and should be taking this opportunity to sleep while Uschi naps. Just popped in to see if anyone had written anything...
back soon
xm

this is one for laughs..two plant ladies indeed

..and another... Ursula really is very small although she looks exceedinly so in this photo. Oh JJ you look awfully paternal here..

Here is one.. just thinking that i look particularly weathered beyond my years, then I realised that I am juxtaposed with a one and a half year old. (JJ you look radiant and at this resolution you cant even see the cold sore)

btw Lars I have recently discovered the listening pleasure of the Cure 'Boys Don't Cry' album...I think you have it? If you don't, buy it, buy it now!

obedie has landed, repeat..

Finally I have arrived at your blog -spot (what terrible terminology - like acne). How nice it is to be here, if only to break up Jim's diatribe of sexual inuendo and bodily ailments...Jim, seriously, i am glad you feel comfortable enough to share these gooey details, but i think poor Lars is feeling faint. Tone it down yo sleazy back street Abbotsford itchy bum!;) Lars, you would love to hear that we had a fabulous birthday gathering for JJ down by the river last Saturday, if only I had brought my camera with me to share the day with you. It was a picnic affair with all kinds of cakes and salads and whatnot. The weather was mild and warm with a hint of a breeze and hazy autumn afternoon light making the nearby cows and goats from the children's farm look like something out of a romantic pastoral scene. We had champagne and rose and JJ even topped that off with some Baileys, being an old soak from way back ( I can talk). I got to hear some enlightening stories about JJ's days knocking on doors in San Fran for cocaine. I forgot you used to be dodgy Jimbo. You are such an accomplished person now. Aren't we all? hmm let's all reflect on that for a moment.
I do have some photos from our day at the children's farm in Abbotsford a few weeks earlier, Uschi in tow. Now let's see if I can work this thing...
yes, well I tried to upload a picture but it was big and I am not sure if it has worked...I might just post this now and see. At least I have broken the silence, and found my way here. Now I officially commit myself to regular contributions.
More soooon
must shower, the gardening grit has overcome me! I am mud lady.
xxxlove to you both
obedie

Splish Splash I Was Takin' A Bath!

Hi there, buddy!

I’m writing to you from my claw foot bath tub here at the City Bath house in Swanston Street. It’s just down the road from your favourite Japanese curry place and you bet, it’s still open. I had a tantalizing chicken teriyaki there just the other day. So why am I taking a bath in the middle of the day, you might ask? Unfortunately my skin condition is still persisting and it looks like it might be an allergic response to the dust mites in my apartment; so I’ve hurried down here to throw myself into a steaming hot tub and drown the little buggers. It seems the little critters have multiplied to epidemic proportions and run me out of town, my friend. Of course, they’re present in everyone’s home but they can precipitate an allergic reaction in immuno suppressed individuals like myself. I’ve been scratching like mad for weeks, tossing and turning at night, feeling like things are crawlling over my scalp and into my ears. No one’s come to visit in weeks!
It came to a head the other day when I moved all the furniture and washed every cushion and item of clothing in the place. I was up to my neck in public housing dust, buddy. I filled that old vacuum three times before I was pooped and by that stage, my skin was so inflamed, I felt like I was on fire; I nearly ran down to the Yarra and threw myself into that smelly old river. Never mind the e. coli, I was out of my mind, Lars honey.
Things have settled since then, but it sure made me think twice about bringing second hand furniture home from the thrift store and letting the dust build up on the skirting boards. I’ve investigated everything the last three months; scabies, syphillus, drug toxicity, wheat allergies, poor kidney function. Can you see why I don’t have time to work for a living?
Thank God for these public baths is all I can say. At 2-50 a tub it’s unbeatable value. Man, they’re so deep and wide you could fit another fella in here; that’s the only other thing that’d make this experience superb, buddy! I won’t tell you how I’m keeping myself amused right now. I’ve tossed in a few drops of sweet almond oil to make my skin smooth and supple and a sprinkle of sea salt to cleanse the pores. Next time I’ll bring my rubber ducky and sea shells, maybe some lavender oil or vanilla scented candles. Whew! I’m so hot right now, buddy. Maybe I should accidentally push the emergency button so the guy out front will come and resuscitate me!
I’m sorry, man, I think my daily Qi Gong practice is over stimulating my dan tien region which is located right above the testicles. That’d explain my lascivious yearnings of late! It’s part of the healing routine I do each day along with meditation, prayer and affirmation. It’s had the strange effect of reigniting my sexual urges and forcing me onto the public like a bitch on heat. This weekend, fuelled by a chapter from a Deepak Chopra book about the need for passion in one’s life, I found myself staking out the gay beach on Port Phillip Bay. I walked for two hours through sand castles and sand pits before I reached those smutty shores at the end of the bay. Can you imagine, walking through all that family fun one minute and stumbling upon two naked men sprawled on top of each other like a tortoise and its shell? There’s a dirty old factory and a refinery in the background and a scrub behind the dunes where men in suits, laborers and queens in speedos play hide and seek. There was even a huge Nazi symbol engraved in the sand by the water; you German get around, buddy!
Unfortunately I started getting all weak in the knees, feeling intimidated by the whole scene so I swaggered off to the bus with my chastity intact! I think I just love to tease myself out there. To my pleasant surprise, my favourite Japanese driver was at the helm of that bus. He wears a bizarre hearing device and gives me the cheesiest grin and the most suggestive wink you ever saw. He blares rock n’ roll music and gives the finger to inconsiderate drivers when we pass through the city; calling them idiots and fools in Japanese. He calls me ‘cousin’ at the end of the journey and I wink straight back.
Oh Lars honey, I’m almost done soaking in this tub so I’ll have to sign off; I’m so glad you could join me! It almost feels like you’re sitting in that rickety old chair in the corner. If only you were, you could pass me a towel and help me get outta this thing without breaking my neck!

By the way, is your mother really in Nigeria? I saw a short for a documentary about the capital city, Lagos. They said it was ‘hell on Earth’ – the most polluted, over populated place in Africa. Apparently there’s a car jacking every five minutes and the highest murder rate you can imagine? If that’s true, your mother must be a real brave woman, son. Send her my best wishes.

Love to you, buddy
Your pal, JJ x

By the way Jim, what on earth has got into you, your last posting was scandalous! You prance off to Sydney and come back a whore.

Housewife in Nigeria

My mother’s taken up crosswords, now she can’t leave the house too often to attend her crochet group. I did the crossword with her on the phone while she was sitting in the lounge. Neither of us were too sure what a trough for washing ore was (5 letters), but at least we could share our sense of defeat at not being able to do a lousy crossword in a two month old women’s magazine from SA. I’ll miss the way our phone calls used to be. People in Nigeria only have cell phones and have completely skipped using conventional landline phones. So whenever I used to phone my mum, she was rarely at home. There’d always be the buzz of traffic and honking car horns in the background. On her birthday last year I called up and she was gambling at a lady’s house playing mahjong. When I first ever gave her Nigerian number a try, she was at a huge vegetable market and had to end the conversation by saying, ‘Right, I must go now, there’s always a man at this corner with a portable sewing machine and I need to find him to sew up your father’s trousers.’ Most often she’d be in the back of the car stuck in traffic with the windows up, and she’d prattle on about how many of the company’s wives had been jacked in traffic that month. It would sometimes annoy me that I’d always have to compete to get her attention, and vie off vendors selling fruit and boys on mopeds racing past to tell her what I’ve been up to. But how sad it is to always catch her when she’s at home. Sometimes there’s nothing I’d like more than the chance for the both of us to go and shop for vegetables together.