When you aim for authenticity, aim for Pabst
Hi Livejournal, how are we doing? I'm good thanks, but boy do I have some news for you!
So get this - dad decides to take a much needed holiday from all that bullshit doctorin' over the New Years break and heads down to the Adelaide/Vic border/coast to do a bit of diving with a few friends. Before he sets out he laments how his heart isn't really in the whole ordeal, because there's a lot of preparation that needs to be done before you can even think of setting out for a high powered oceanic expedition (especially when you're pushing 60). So he misses the first day enitrely just to getting his shit together late. No sweat, that's just how he rolls - if he ever gives you a timing estimate your best bet is to multiply it by 2 or 6 (no more, and certainly no less) and you'll have a better idea of what he actually means. Besides that hiccup he sets out the next day and things appear to be going pretty sweet for a good while because we don't hear a word from him while he's out. This is usually a good thing because, again, that's just how he rolls.
Then yesterday I get a call from a concerned friend of his who tells me that he's somehow managed to cop a full-blown eye infection in both of his sorry-arse eyes while diving, and that as a result he can no longer see. Worse yet, even though the stubborn old bastard had been in hospital for going on 3 days he had never bothered to let us know. Worser yetter, during his (as I soon discovered) brief stay at the hospital he had managed to get into an argument about professionalism and proper treatment with one of the eye specialists at the clinic. Worserer yetterer, after said argument he had promptly signed himself out of hospital and returned to the fucking camp! Jimminy jillickers, this guy, right? At least he had the decency to get his eyelids scraped before he cracked the shits and somesaulted out the nearest window.
Anyway the good news is I just got a message from him before, and it reads a little something like this:
"Hi Linc. Am feeling a lot better today I can now see I have had six days of total blindness What a mindfuck of the first order Love Dad"
He tried to write the SMS like a letter so there's a heap of gaps between every fourth word or so. On the plus side he is a master of capitalisation, which puts him on par with William Blake in my books.
Anyway I guess the moral of this story, if there is one to be had, is that... well, I guess it's that life can be pretty shit house if you're a) innately unlucky b) stubborn as fuck c) into diving in water that probably has a 0.4 urine-to-water ratio.
Wait! This one will look better on the billboards: Only you can prevent urine-related eye infections (you stubborn cunt).
So get this - dad decides to take a much needed holiday from all that bullshit doctorin' over the New Years break and heads down to the Adelaide/Vic border/coast to do a bit of diving with a few friends. Before he sets out he laments how his heart isn't really in the whole ordeal, because there's a lot of preparation that needs to be done before you can even think of setting out for a high powered oceanic expedition (especially when you're pushing 60). So he misses the first day enitrely just to getting his shit together late. No sweat, that's just how he rolls - if he ever gives you a timing estimate your best bet is to multiply it by 2 or 6 (no more, and certainly no less) and you'll have a better idea of what he actually means. Besides that hiccup he sets out the next day and things appear to be going pretty sweet for a good while because we don't hear a word from him while he's out. This is usually a good thing because, again, that's just how he rolls.
Then yesterday I get a call from a concerned friend of his who tells me that he's somehow managed to cop a full-blown eye infection in both of his sorry-arse eyes while diving, and that as a result he can no longer see. Worse yet, even though the stubborn old bastard had been in hospital for going on 3 days he had never bothered to let us know. Worser yetter, during his (as I soon discovered) brief stay at the hospital he had managed to get into an argument about professionalism and proper treatment with one of the eye specialists at the clinic. Worserer yetterer, after said argument he had promptly signed himself out of hospital and returned to the fucking camp! Jimminy jillickers, this guy, right? At least he had the decency to get his eyelids scraped before he cracked the shits and somesaulted out the nearest window.
Anyway the good news is I just got a message from him before, and it reads a little something like this:
"Hi Linc. Am feeling a lot better today I can now see I have had six days of total blindness What a mindfuck of the first order Love Dad"
He tried to write the SMS like a letter so there's a heap of gaps between every fourth word or so. On the plus side he is a master of capitalisation, which puts him on par with William Blake in my books.
Anyway I guess the moral of this story, if there is one to be had, is that... well, I guess it's that life can be pretty shit house if you're a) innately unlucky b) stubborn as fuck c) into diving in water that probably has a 0.4 urine-to-water ratio.
Wait! This one will look better on the billboards: Only you can prevent urine-related eye infections (you stubborn cunt).