Let's hear it for the boy!

With youth, poise, porcelain yet freckled features and undercover ranga locks, Neil Robertson is outwardly the picture of an average bloke.

A dye job to die for

But inwardly, the voices of his inner champion cannot be silenced.

Irrefutable evidence for this utterly un-outlandish statement can be found in his rise and rise at the world championships. For snooker.

This man is a tour-de-force of accuracy and strategic inaccuracy, as he unleashes a thorough hammering of balls into holes with the use of a long, lean stick (among other things).

Into the last 8 you go little one. And what with friends who are nifty with Flash, what more could you want?

A replica of the HMAS Endeavour.

What grinds my gears #4 - Connex Rooku

Who do? You do. Do what? Rooku.

That's right. Rooku, the poor distant cousin of Haiku, appears to have taken over our trains. The age of Rooku dawned not with a bang but with a George Michael-esque careless whisper.

It purports to offer oodles of (read: some) colour and movement to an otherwise quintessentially beige train trip. Instead, when you put this new age poetry blah blah under the microscope, stethoscope and kaleidoscope, it's still really farking shit.

For example:

early autumn ---
trees along the railway track
hold onto their leaves

morning rainbow ---
above the four-leaf clover
a dying flower

Make you want to scream? Michael Jackson agrees.

Now let me be clear. I don't hate poetry. I love poetry. My friend, affectionately known as Pierre, is an aficionado of the written word. He has been running very successful slam nights at the Dan O'Connell/Blue Velvet/wherever they'll take him for years. [Shameless plug = click me].

Sort of relevant but not really

I've got the feeling that one more Rooku might be all it takes to send an unstable, self-loathing train traveller over the edge.

And then it would be the end.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse would roll out. Toads would rain from the sky. The sun would blind us. And Australia would never win cricket again.

*Excessively large sigh*

Happy Anzac Day for tomorrow. Here is some themed Rooku:

anzac day –
listening on the radio
to a minute’s silence

*screams*

What grinds my gears #3 - people who answer the phone at takeaway shops

I mean how hard can it be? You are required to learn a series of numbers and letters that cover up a trifold piece of A4. Maximum. This does not require a large amount of brain capacity... or does it? Am I missing something here?

The phone picker upperer often employs well-worn speaking devices such as 'hello', 'yes' and '20 minutes.' Always 20 minutes! What's up with that? There must be a handbook that says 'always say 20 minutes'.

Why these people grind my gears can only be described by three examples... which all happened last week (and yes, before you think that I am pushing the envelope of what can be considered to be "the truth", I say to you - yes I am that unhealthy and I am STILL this beautiful - hurrah!).

Note: To preserve the (sheer lack of) goodwill embodied in these businesses, real names are used.

Example 1 - Frankies Pizza on Whisky Hill in Ascot Vale, Sunday 5 April circa 7:50pm

(At this point, I should note that one should know IMMEDIATELY not to trust an establishment that does not know how to use an apostrophe. I mean if they can't even get that right, who knows where they stick those pineapple pieces *shudders*)

Me: *beep beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep, beeeeeeeeeep*

Guy: Hello, Frankies.

Me: Hi, can I please order some delivery?

Guy: You sure can. *breathing loudly in receiver*

Me: Can I please get one large Scorcher and one large Frankie's Spices (curiously, I noted to myself that the apostrophe has been used correctly in the title of the pizza)?

Guy: You sure caaaaan. *breathing even louder, reaching serial-killer-esque levels*

Me: Great. And I guess we'll get a garlic bread with that too *thinks to self - this will save us $4 under the 'large deal' offer*.

Guy: Aha. *still breathing louder* What are your details love?

Me: Errr my address is number street suburb. My mobile number is number-number-number-number number-number-number number-number-number. How long will that be mate?

Guy: *gasping like being choked to death* 20 minutes. *coughs*

Me: OK thanks bye.

40 minutes pass...

Me to Wise Significant Other: I wonder where the pizza is. They are probably out searching for their apostrophe! Haha I crack myself up. Should I call again? Yeah I am going to call again.

WSO: If you call, it will arrive. So call but then it will be a waste of time. But do it anyway.

Me: What?

WSO: *groan* Just call!

Me: OK! *beep beeeeeeeeeep*

Guy: Hi, Frankies pizza?

Me: Hi, I ordered some pizza about 40 minutes ago and you said it would be 20 minutes and so I was just wondering where it was...

Guy: Yeah Billy's on the way *nostril combustion overload... abort abort!*

Me: OK-thanks-bye.

Me to WSO: OMG they are such freaks at this place. Absolute freeeeeeeeeeaks.

*knock knock*

WSO: Told you they would get here when you called. It's the pizza delivery law. According to the prophecy... etc etc.

Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

WSO: *opens front door*

Delivery Guy (DG): Hi there, here you go. That's $27.50.

WSO: Really? We thought it was $20. For the large deal?

DG: Uh no. You just ordered two large pizzas and a garlic bread.

Me: *yelling down hall from couch* WHAT? That's the deal. It's 20 bucks!

DG: Well, you have to tell us you want the deal to get the deal.

WSO: *walks down corridor, gets coin jar, hands over correct weight in $2, $1 and 20c coins... take that Frankies with no apostrophe*

DG: Ta.

WSO: Bye now. *Shuts door*

Me: What is that? You don't have to SAY you want 'the deal' to get the deal! You just GET the deal. I'm calling them again to say that I want a credit. We should get credit. This is ridiculous! Who do these non-apostrophe folk think they're dealing with?!?

WSO: Don't call. Let's just eat and watch an ep of Curb.

Me: I feel like THIS is an ep of Curb. Larry David would want us to call. I'm calling.

WSO: Ohhhhhhhkkkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy.

Me: *beep beeeeeeeeeep*

Guy: Hello, Frankies Pizza?

Me: Hi, I just called about where our pizza was before from street in suburb.

Guy: Yeah yeah.

Me: Well it just arrived and we paid $27.50 but the pamphlet says $19.50. The DG said that we had to ask for the deal if we wanted the deal. Is that right?

Guy: Yeah - if you want the deal, you have to ask for it.

Me: But surely if you order that combination of things, you get it for the same price? It should be implied that you get the deal.

Guy: Well you have to say you want the deal to get it.

Me: But that doesn't make any sense! It's not like I want to give you an extra $8 if I don't have to.

Guy: Sorry but...

Me: Well that's just GREAT. Really GREAT. Well listen, don't expect an order from me EVER again. And I'll certainly be telling everyone I know that they should not get pizza from you! And can I just say re-do your pamphlets with an APOSTROPHE. F7! FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF777777777777777777777777!!!!!!

And this was such shitty pizza that I couldn't even eat three pieces. And that's saying something!

Example 2 - The Asian Kitchen in Flemington, Monday 6 April, circa 8:10pm.
I really like these people and the food makes me want to almost jizz in my pants BUT this was just a little irritating...

Me: *beep beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep, beeeeeeeeeep*

Girl: Hewwo

Me: Hi, is this the Asian Kitchen?

Girl: Hewwo, yes.

Me: Hi, can I order some delivery please?

Girl: Sorry cannot.

Me: I can't order.

Girl: Sorry miss.

Me: Sorry?

Girl: No delivery today.

Me: Oh OK. Well can I order some take away to pick up... can I get one really really spicy red duck curry and one chicken with cashew nut and four curry puffs?

Girl: Yes.

Me: And that's the deal on page, er three, of your pamplet?

Girl: Yes.

Me: Yes?

Girl: Yes.

Me: Too easy.

Girl: You want rice?

Me: Yes. But isn't that in the deal?

Girl: Yes.

Me: OK.

Girl: What your name?

Me: Name. Letter-letter-letter-letter-letter-letter-letter.

Girl: Letter?

Me: It's Sarah.

Girl: What?

Me: Just put it under Sarah.

Girl: Sewah. OK. We see you in 20 minute.

Me: OK.

10 minutes pass...

*mobile phone rings*

Guy: Hello I call from Asian Kitchen for Sewah.

Me: Yes, is my order ready?

Guy: No. Sorry. I sorry.

Me: ...

Guy: Sorry miss.

Me: ...

Guy: We no have duck with deal.

Me: No duck in deal?

Guy: Yesssssssss.

Me: Sooooo? Can I still get deal if I don't get duck?

Guy: Yes.

Me: Can I get beef? Instead of duck? In the deal?

Guy: Yes.

Me: OK then. So I want a beef curry and a chicken with cashew nut and cuffy puffs and rice.

Guy: Yes I know. I know.

Me: Thank you.

Guy: In 20 minute we see you.

Me: Bye bye. Thank you, that's great.

Guy: Bye bye bye.

5 minutes pass...

*mobile phone rings*

Guy: Hello, I call again Sewah from Asian Kitchen.

Me: *falls off chair* Yes.

Guy: You want spicy yes?

Me: Yes.

Guy: You want spicy beef but not spicy chicken though?

Me: Well yes and no. I want more spicy beef than chicken.

Guy: Spicy?

Me: Whatever you do is fine. I'm easy. All the same spicy. Spicy spicy good.

Guy: OK.

Me: Yes. OK. Bye!

And then I picked it up and it was super super yummy so all was not lost my friends. Sewah had some fine food!

Example 3 - That's Amore in North Melbourne on Tuesday 7 April, circa 7:50pm.

Me: *beep beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep, beeeeeeeeeep*

Guy: *series of grunts and indecipherable moans*

Me: Hi, is this That's Amore?

Guy: Uh.

Me: Can I please order some delivery?

Guy: Uh. *short yet discernible snort*

Me: Can I please have one large Mexican, one garlic pizza and one entree sized Fettucini Carbonara?

Guy: Wha you say?

Me: Can I please have one large Mexican, one garlic pizza and one entree sized Fettucini Carbonara? *places more emphasis on vowels and lengthens pauses*

Guy: Wha Fettucini?

Me: I'm sorry?

Guy: Wha you say?

Me: Fettucini.

Guy: Yeah. I dunno, I dunno what it is.

Me: Seriously?

Guy: Can you pwease tell me?

Me: Are you joking?

Guy: Wha?

Me: Having a joke? It's not April Fool's Day!

Guy: Wha April Fool's Day?

Me: *sigh* Fettucini is a type of pasta, long and thin but flat. Like spaghetti, which is also long and thin, but fettucini is flat like a ribbon. Spaghetti is round.

Guy: Wha speeerghetti? Ribba?

*brain explodes*

Me: Uh, noooooo I want Fettucini.

Guy: Fetta-wha?

Me: F-E-T-T-U-C-I-N-I.

Guy: F-E?

Me: *loses will to live* Do you have a menu in front of you?

Guy: Wha?

Me: A MEN-U.

Guy: Yeah. Do YOU have a menu?

Me: Interestingly I do have a menu. If you look at the top of the second fold.

Guy: Fold?

Me: ...

Guy: Hello?

Me: ...

Guy: Fetta?

Me: *hangs up*

And so, I cooked up a fine hearty meal of 2 x packets of 2 Minute Noodles (beef flavoured) with some cheese grated on top and a tiny smidge of tomato sauce. Hmmm yummy.

If this series of three conversations turned into a movie (and hey, who wouldn't want to buy the rights to these babies?), where they have credits at the end to explain where the people ended up, it would say something like:

Kid A: Was in therapy for a few weeks before bouncing back and writing 'How to Order Take Away Food for Dummies'. It sold 19 million copies in 23 countries. It has been translated into 13 languages.

WSO: Promoted the handbook with Kid A and has started a 5- part seminar series 'Knowing what to expect from take away phone picker upperers and how to deal with the unexpected'. The seminar series is being screened in Australia, the US and the UK. It's soon to go to DVD.

Guys and Girl: Work in take away stores to this day. Slowly wiling away their time, hoping that one day they will get just one order right the first time.