It’s hammertime!

9 06 2008

So the neighbor downstairs tried subtlety and placed a plumber’s business card outside our door with a note telling us to contact said plumber for the water hammer

Water what? Is that like a water pistol that squirts out water each time you hit something with it? Sorry but this is an alien concept to me. I may have grown up surrounded with two civil engineers in the family and one architect cousin but I have never encountered such terminology. Luckily Melanie googled the word before I was informed of the card-dropping incident.

Turns out it was the pressure surge related to pipelines, basta, it’s a tubero term.

Now I don’t generally like it when my Saturday mornings are ruined so my initial reaction was to let the bitch suffer more by showering at a much later time every night (months before, dear neighbor “suggested” we take showers before 10pm as noise caused by water hammer wakes them from their sleep, which I had no problem complying with). Anyway, before pushing through with my plan, I stopped and thought… what would Jesus do? Hahaha. Once again, I find myself laughing at my own joke… Or maybe just chuckling, I swear it sounded funny when I wrote this draft a couple of days ago…

Because I’m a good and gracious neighbor, I decided to call D who’s the guardian of rationality relative to me and who’s a landlord himself (how feudal!). He suggested I ask dear neighbor to call the owner directly or that I file a report for repair with the agent. Since I don’t trust my neighbor speaking directly with my agent (I’m good and gracious and smart!), I decided to file for a repair report instead. Tadan. I estimate the water hammer to be rectified in a year’s time or six months or whenever the rent’s about to increase and the agent desperately needs to be on our good side.

Oh well, that’s apartment living for you kids. I had a quick look at the rates these days and goodness are they expensive! I wonder how much I’ll have to pay for my own place when it’s time to move out and get a place of my own. I might have to move somewhere an hour away from the city to get a cheap place, anywhere except the suburbs. The suburb would kill me.

Blabbing now, stopping now. Catcha later.


Still can you imagine how funny it would be to call a plumber and ask him in a very husky voice if he’d like to come and fix your plumbing?


This post is not about possums…

5 06 2008


It’s been four weeks since I got back from Texas. Initially I didn’t want to write about it after I got back because I was too sad to reminisce. While the flight back to Melbourne was the shittiest and loneliest transatlantic flight I’ve ever had to take, it was also for a trip that was so memorable and special. I guess you could say it was bittersweet. Chenes chingkie mae chervalin chuva (try translating that at babel fish). But anyway I have recovered.

I definitely learned a couple of things about myself from the trip, I learned that… Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, not quick to take offense. HAHAHAHA. I’m funny. This just suddenly brings back memories of me doing the first reading at Melanie’s wedding so fast like I was being chased by a herd of possums. Can you imagine being chased by dozens of these creatures? Shiver. Yakididakdak. Seriously that’s how I motivate myself when I run around the beautiful but possum-friendly park that is Carlton Gardens.

So I learned that I’d like to take it slow relationship-wise and that I should stop watching too much rom coms. And hooray guess who’s celebrating their first anniversary? Uh huh. That’s right. Amazing isn’t it? We talked about what we’re going to give each other and set a limit of $200. I suggested we just donate to charity whatever amount it is we plan on spending but D argued that he’s already donating a monthly sum to an org which takes care of some species of animal (hopefully not possums). In short, shot down! And for the record I don’t hate possums so if you’re a lover of this animal, you can stop that hate mail you’re about to send me now. Going back, as gifts we also made a pact to never stop being weird, silly, crazy and quirky. He said that wouldn’t be a problem ’cause he’s way past the age to outgrow it. Good.


My best friend Abe and her husband paid me a visit a couple of weeks ago. It was surreal to have her standing outside my apartment ’cause I never imagined I’d see her here. But I did and I’m so thankful. Genuine friends definitely give you a different kind of high, and you never have to explain things to them because they get you and time passes by so quickly when you’re talking to them. I miss, miss my best friends.


And cupcakes are my new obsession. If we lived in the same city, you’d have a ration every monday from me ;P