I'm still alive.
I hate public transport, I really really do.

So, yesterday was Little Red's turn to get pampered. It was about time, as that hussy, Silver Surfer had been getting all the attention. It was Little Red's turn to put her foot down, do a Shanagh Stomp and demand to be fixed. She put her foot down in a royal way, and we needed a whole new suspension system. She was going to make this as tough as she could.
So... with 4 hours sleep, I was rudely awoken by my mobile phone ringing the preset alarm time. (I use my mobile phone because I can sleep with it right next to my head, and doesn't seem to break when I throw it...) Bleary eyed, and hungry, I left the house on my journey into Nambour. Its quite a pity that David and Sylvia have their garage in Nambour, as it is a cesspool of inbred, twitchy, festy, feral white trash that are called "Shazza", "Dazza" and the obligatory "Bazza".
Just because I went to school there, doesn't mean I have to like the place!

So, after dropping the car off, I headed into town. I walked past the strange person trying to dig their way under the train tracks, and I walked past the shady characters that were ~discretely~ dealing in the park. I walked right past the screaming mother of 3 (who looked about 19), and straight to the bus station....

Alas, the angels in heaven had not heard my prayers. The Maroochydore bus would be another 210 minutes. Over three hours away. So... I headed back down the hill, back into the Hole that is Nambour, and into the nearest cafe to get a very strong coffee and some breakfast. I sat around a small corner, in front of two middle aged women, who were discussing some jerk who one of them had been stupid enough to marry, and bare offspring with. By the descriptions of these two, this man had no brain, no decency, no morality, and no manners. So, I concluded, the man must either be a Labrador or a beagle.
(Border Collies just have too many brains. ;-) )

I tried to tune out, by reading passages about men having their heads shot in, and choppers being blown out of the skies (Black Hawk Down) however, when they began to discuss one son's bullying problems, and how he'd begun self mutliation, I just had to leave. There were simply too many sharp objects around, and I knew exactly what that poor kid was going through....

By the time the bus arrived, I was dancing a fine line. I needed to get home. I needed silence, I needed a soft chair, I needed a doonah, and I needed to check my email. Mostly, all I wanted to do was to escape Nambour. I knew too many people there, too many who'd dropped out of school and had started to breed.

Once I reached Maroochydore, I felt sanity beginning to seep back into reality. I was walking up my stairs. I was unlocking the door. I was kicking my shoes off, and I was falling through the air.

I landed with a soft 'foomp' and stayed motionless in the silence of the apartment for at least 30 minutes, before I decided to relocate from the floor to the blissful goodness of the bed. I tried not to think of the inevitable.

I have to go back there tomorrow!!!
Little Red... you're a little bitch.