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Published: February 8th 2006
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Morning chez Mascarenhas
Another beautiful day in Sunny Dunny LEAVING THE HOUSE
A lot of you seem to be interested in the work that I do out here (I'm glad someone is) so I thought I'd give you an idea of what my typical day looks like. After waking in my beach house (it's not really a beach house, but I can see the beach from the lounge, so that's good enough for me. I guess by that rationale you could call it a tree house, or even a golf house, but lets just drop it there), I stumble over fat Albie on my way to the fridge. Albie is about the same size as my sheep, but lives off raw chicken necks, and frankly at that size belongs on an episode of the Goodies. Please don't ask me to explain that. If you don't get it, then you're probably the sort of person who goes into the DIY store and asks for glasspaper, when everyone knows its sandpaper. Anyway...
PRIORITY 1 - CHECK OUT THE SURF
The first priority, and of course the reason for my being here, is to keep a close eye on the surf. So my day routinely begins with a look at
Good morning Albie
Where's my chicken necks? the ocean. Today, just like 17 of the last 20, it's a nice lovely day, there's loads of swell, but the wind is killing everything. This sets my mood for the day.
So, I head on back home and console myself by making love to my surfboard (metaphorically of course - you weirdos). Jennifer enjoys the attention, and has quite a calming influence on me. As usual, after a passionate waxing session with Jen, I fall asleep. I wake up just in time for 2nd breakfast. I trip over Albie on the way to the fridge and reach for Dr Fockers Farm Fresh Eggs. Fried, over-easy today (whatever that means). And while we're on the subject of Americans bastardising the English language - here's one from Dr Focker himself - "do you like to golf? I love to golf, how bout you, do you golf?" .... Since when has golf been a verb? "Oh yeah, in high-school I golfed every day - I was the winningest golfer in the state." And what kind of word is winningest? Like winning is not enough. "Well, I was even winningestier than you buddy." Sorry, rant over.
LEAVING THE HOUSE 2
So, after a couple of free range beauties, it's time to head into the place I call "the office". It would be a clear misrepresentation to call it "work," even by Kiwi standards. In fact what I do, is still a long way short of what a Barbados bartender would call work. So, after packing my lunchbox (that is not a metaphor) I trip over Albie and head out the door. The drive to work is short (though I call via the beach on the way in case the surf has suddenly gone doubel overhead and glassy - it hasn't), and after spending 30 minutes trying to find a place to park my car, I decide to leave it in the Dean's parking space. I figure that if it gets towed, then it'll save me calling the AA and arranging the tow myself. For those of you who've seen my previous blog with photos of my car, you'll understand what I mean. Mind you, although it's promised to break down on many occasions, it has actually only broken down once.
ARRIVING AT WORK
I enter my office, spend the first few hours clearing emails from my fans, then
break out into the routine of work - see photos below. If I'm lucky no one will knock on my door or phone me during my busy period. Though I've mastered the art of falling asleep whilst on the phone, in case anyone does try and wake me by knocking on my door, they just assume it's a really important call.
In between times, I watch a few footy videos and log a few clips where the referee has had a shocker. This can take some time as there's usually quite a few, though there are considerably fewer referee shockers than players' shockers. I'm getting quite a library of Otago Utd howlers.
When the day is coming to a close around midday (that's 12 o'clock by the way Brian, not 1 or 2pm) I pack my things up and head home. Here's another chance to have a pop at the Americans. My friend, well I guess my direct boss in the states Brian Johannes, well, lets say 1st a friend, 2nd a boss and 3rd an entertainer (he's not really got many David Brent attributes, he's far too cocky) anyway, he reckons that midday is around 1 or
My desk
Hard at it still... 2pm. Is that an American thing. Surely midday is exactly that - noon. Mid-day. Am I being a pedantic English man?
LEAVING THE OFFICE
If the weather's good I'll head out to the Focker's farm to get some free food and maybe a bed for the night. They'll probably bitch me into the ground working on the farm, but it saves me cooking i guess. No, that's unfair. I actually really enjoy the work, from erecting fences, building a path through the woods, chainsawing trees, to cutting the lawn (on the ride-on mower of course) - it's all good fun. The only real bitch job is "Gorse Patrol." The story goes, that about 200 years ago, the former owner of Mark & Katie's farmland, a Scotsman called McDougal McLeod fancied a bit of gorse on his paddock to remind him of home. So he bought over a few gorse trees, which happen to spread in much the same way that wildflowers do. So, the Fockers are left with a paddock full of gorse, which I have been assigned to remove along with farm manager Mark Falcous. It so happens that there's gorse tress on practically every hillside over
Constant phone calls
Barely a moments peace... here, but I'd hate for the romance to be swept out of Mark's tale, so I havent mentioned that to him. No doubt he'll have some comments to make when he reads this blog.
TIME TO RELAX AFTER ANOTHER HECTIC DAY
After dinner, we'll watch a DVD of "The Office" or maybe I'll get lucky and Mark & Katie will break out their wedding DVD again - it's a close call, but I have to say they're both pretty funny. Mark n Katie tell me the wedding DVD is supposed to be more of a love story, drama type of affair rather than the comedy spectacular that I seem to have reduced it to. After drying my eyes (from laughing) I sup me tea and head home. There's always time to check out the surf before bedtime, so I swing by St Kilda's to watch the sun go down. 16 Norman Street is quiet when I arrive home. Niven's in bed and the porch light has been left on for me. I trip over Albie for one last time and head to bed. It's gonna be another tough day tomorrow so I need to get plenty of rest.
St Kilda
The sun goes down over my local break for another day...
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The Cole Kanyer
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Rough Life
Dr. Musk, it looks as if you may be living the toughest life of all! Hope all is well down there. I wish you were an analyst of American Football, because my Seahawks just got screwed out of a Super Bowl. Later Musk