franchise frets forward for finale

Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.

I didn't say that. It's from The Hours. But wish I did anyway. Nice line.

*****

Trooped down to the panel doc's this late morn for the first time in 1.5 years since working in the sweat factory - and so near to my block - to find a close cropped strapping teen cluelessly fumbling his way manning the counter alone and flu virus filled human beans like moi sitting around listlessly.

What, with GST going up, female clinic counter staff too exp to hire is it, only can afford Butter Fingers on School Hols ah...??

Anyway, long story short, was wolfing down the last few chapters of The Order of the Phoenix while waiting for the doc and later for me meds.

Was the last second clinicee with my nose and eyeballs buried in the book when Close Cropper 'called'. Or rather, uttered, without even addressing me or waiting for me to acknowledge him first and assumed straight on thus:

- Hi. So you going to watch it?
- (looking up, 1 sec beat, totally caught off off guard, eagle eyed him: What's that Wet Eared Overgrown Puppy yapping to me about?)
- (1 sec beat, uncertain smile)
- (recovered in 3rd sec) But of course goes without saying couldn't wait actually.
- Do you like it?
- (Young punks nowadays must think talking out of context and assuming people can pick up what they are yakking about is very cool, is it?) Wonderful read. How do you find it?
- Oh I like it too. I read it twice. Once is not enough. I have all the titles so far. Do you?
- (Only read TWICE? Do you have 2 nipples? WE-LL.) Yeah.
- So who do you think's gonna die???
- (WHAT a question. And said with such wanting-to-engage earnest. Duh. Dying for me to ask you so you can tell, right? Poooh. Fat chance, eager pup. Roll over, here comes my heel.) I really don't know I prefer not to know and just find out (in totally unengaging just-give-me-my-med-so-I-can-leave tone).
- (punctured, small back to business tone) Oh. Okay. Here's your medicine...

Problem is my face is generally 'sub-text writ LARGE' even when they're supposed to be safely in mental parenthesis so I can imagine facing me when I'm the Garrotting Gear.

Truth be told, he's young and green and inoffensive and timidly but tentatively trying to be friendly-chatty lah but I was made to wait 45 fucking minutes with just less than 5 other people for just 3 stupid bloody minutes of consultation time by a doc who's egging to leave and didn't give a hoot if my stuffed nasal nose and sore throat ran off my face with the pilot's wife or what have you with a flu lethargy and the pissing doc only gave me 2 types of pills so am sooooo NOT in the mood to entertain any small talk from even a saint lor.

So there.

Ok. At least I wasn't totally nasty to the poor lamb - gave him a wee smile for all the hardtrying and scooted out as he bade tra-lah.

AND I didn't roll my eyes on this kid ok. Think he got flattened enough for a Saturday.

*****

But I have my guesses in place, actually.

Done my fair share of gorging on Potter articles from the web (Hagrid dies? Hah. Duh.) and some gut feel searching (no rationale or deduction whatsoever involved) as well:

7. Ron wins the death reprieve.
6. Bill will teach in Hogwarts.
5. Lupin and Tonks get engaged.
4. Draco is killed in a crossfire.
3. Neville comes to face Bellatrix.
2. Snape will betray Voldemort.

And the last:
1. Harry will die.

It's fun betting on death when life is fiction.

:o\

o fortuna (deux parts)

(not by Carl Orff but by Cavanagh...)

****
Un...
****
Beng, a fine colleague of mine, made me reserve my 16 June Sat evening for a party.

- What kinda party? Your birthday?
- Nope, drinks party. Do come.
- But I don't know anyone there!
- Neh'mind, just come. Free booze.
- ...
- Come lah.
- ... Heck, why not.

Though the thought of bumping around strangers isn't really my cup of bourbon coke, after coughing for 2 months (and the fucking ghost of it still remains) and not a drop of alcohol in between, I felt like a desert waiting for rain.

(And it rained a storm that night so I don't know what that portended.)

So, I grabbed a bottle of red and cabbed down. Saw 2 chaps in near identical A&F alighting from their mini in the underground carpark. Went up to the apartment, 2 floors only. Uneasy eyeballing and body language.

Out of the lift and towards a long corridor flanked with what must be the longest selection of Adidas shoes and other posh wears I've ever seen in my entire life.

Strange feeling dawning on me...

Door opened.

Avalanche of music. Dark interiors. Disco mirrorball. Drinks galore. Dapper dudes.

Looots of dapper dudes of firmly built sizes.

Hmmm... ... ... Oh-kay...

My first gay party.

Riiiight...

Beng caught me and introduced me to his boyfriend, a genial fellow.

- I'm glad you came.
- Er, yeah... I guess.
- You'll enjoy this.
- Er, yeah... I hope.
- Told you about the open mind part earlier, didn't I?
- Er, yeah, am subtly forewarned. In a way.

And he graciously kept me company for the rest of the night chatting and drinking while the rest talked shop, huddled, screamed.

It was pretty tame cos frankly, I expected more raunch. Fair amount of smooching, fondling and teasing but nothing hardcore. Or perhaps the action took place upstairs. Which explained why there were so much upping and downing.

Found out later the toilet's upstairs - spaced like a long spacious room, that was. Enough for 3 couples. One gets the drift...

And bodies, some strangers, some friends, some exs, drifting all over every nook and cranny, catching up or cruising. From collegers to exec types, beefers to bloaters, machos to marys, tight Tees to tuneless tops, straightacting to showstopping, it was quite a sight and strangely fun watching and observing them, the mannerisms.

But after 4 hours of boozing, some things managed to strike my soothingly inebriated mind.

- They all seem to have taken a diabolical oath to crop their hair short.
- Yeah, culture. As in homos for homogenous.
- Seems they gotta conform in order to stand out. Contradictory.
- It's slim pickings if you don't. Look at the cloths and shoes.
- And they're like in different camps. (I point) that bunch in polos and berms...
- Yeah, and another there in see throughs. It's a house party, so they don't dress up.
- Must be like Las Vegas when they do...
- You have no idea...
- So who's that campy Blondie?
- You mean that flamboyant one with the spiky blond hair, bitchy humour and hip hitched g string I was gyrating with just now?
- Yeeeah, if you put it that way. Him.
- He's darling's friend. They knew each other from work. Blondie's a lawyer.
- ... HIM??
- Yeeup.
- Oh??! Oh-kay...

Lest I start to offend the possible young industrialist entrepreneur on my left or get spanked by the plausible PMO deputy director of interpersonal relations, I decided I had better lower my voice and the 13th vodka drink on the table.

By 2am, almost everyone drifted off. Beng's significant other was by then hopelessly inebriated and had trouble getting up so we stayed overnight. Slept on the couch with the 2 tribal cushions supporting my face where a dozen firm and flaccid butts must have caressed or farted into but was too knocked out to bother anymore.

Before I dozed, went up to peep around and pee. Flushed and came out to 2 guys kissing energetically and caressing by the bannister. Walked non-plussed along and down the stairs as they scooted into the loo. Click, lights out, clack, doors locked. Voices carry through the night...

Sleep was fitful (Beng broke a wine glass in the middle of slumber so we had to clean up). Went exploring in the next morning. Fucking big house it was, you could hold a concert in there and sell tickets. Owner even has a big fat black rabbit. Shits everywhere in it's own room. Tried to stroke it and it bit me on the finger. Stupid rabbit. Didn't know they can get aggressive. Glenn Close did the right thing. They belong in stews.

Left at 10ish for home before brunching with ex colleagues.

And thought to myself:

I should have taken back my bottle of red, still aloofly pristine on the table apart from the other adulterated uncocked emptied and spent hard liquors...

*****
Deux
*****
Yesterday was my last day at Corp Comms.

No fanfare. No fits. Just another day. Packed everything and trolleyed over to the new department.

Had done, learned and experienced all there is I can absorb and give. It's time.

Half the nicer peeps on course or MC so it was a quiet low key day, which suited me very fine.

Sent out my handover note with my thanks and gave away the dungeon keys and bade my mini farewells.

Suze asked quite out of the blue without any connection whatsoever if I feel anything about leaving.

Instinctively and truthfully I said no, I don't feel anything overwhelming about leaving at all. It's just not something I will cherish. It's just work. Anyway, I'm still gonna see them around and we could still lunch. But less. And that's pretty fine by me.

Which summed it all.