What in all loving god is going on?

A 4am wakeup brainlog

A loose description of my morning

I woke up at 4 am this morning to get an hour across Sydney, take a superfast Metro train beneath the harbour and then climb into a birdsuit like some poorly slept unwilling fursuit enthusiast. I was advertising a small carpark for a Japanese carpark giant which loves mascots which owns a big unnamed carpark company in Australia.

The following photo is what I sent to a couple friends and group chats after waiting for half an hour in the carpark, near a big tube coming from the ceiling with a big fat steel gauge which was labelled “soil”.

Had the said “Soil” pipe above my head burst I would be literally covered in shit and not just feeling like it

I felt like this was the kind of thing you’d see out of Five Nights at Freddy’s, like some possessed soul of a dead child piloting a terrifying anthropomorphic bear. The kind of thing people with chronically online social dysfunctions and borderline questionably publically open attitudes towards sharing one’s uncanny fetishes get into. Yes, my reader I was dressing up as a mascot and the back of my brain was thinking, “Hehe I look like a furry.”

The front of my brain was aching with being woken up to the alarm of Verbalase cartoon beatbox battles Thanos Beatbox for no good reason other than to ostensibly give myself a laugh when I had to wake up that early. When it was around 5 degrees Celcius in Sydney winter weather, I can assure you it genuinely wasn’t. I could only send the following clip from the second half of Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket to describe my state of mind.

If the face of a patriotic Vietnamese Viet Cong rebel girl sniper from Hue shivering in shock, asking to be mercy killed by a disaffected and broken Private Joker was not enough of a good image, then I wouldn’t be sure of what else would work. I personally feel this way today because I had to spend about an hour waving a sign around in a blue birdsuit before spending the rest of the shift somewhat aggressively marketing carpark deals to surrounding cafes and receptions.

I can say that I gave a handful of flyers away to about three strategically chosen cafes and got politely told to eff off (not really but more or less) by a hotel reception who said, “We make money off our parking, why would we send customers to you?”

It wasn’t the most fun in the world, but I was loading more than the hourly rate of a junior engineer on it. Luckily it will all end soon which is great for me because next month I’m starting again in another engineering firm which I’m hoping to keep my job in and not end up like I did in What’s up with PIPS? inadvertently.

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Onward thoughts

I am feeling rather scuffed right now as you can probably tell. I am also mid packing my house and dealing with a housemate who is dilly dallying and finding obscure interpretations of the official Service NSW online webpage for obligations related to bond repayment. He told me I would need to clean my room and fully vacate before I would be reimbursed. As an agent would treat a tenant terminating a lease in its entirety.

To which I promptly pointed him to the clause that states that it if just one tenant changes their status on the lease but leaves the lease intact, then the person staying on the lease is obliged to pay back the person leaving the lease their share. He asked to then refer to what the real estate agent would say, to which I sought clarification and got the same response.

I thus pointed out that I needed an assurance I would get that bond if I cleaned up the place and so-vacated as he liked before he waltzed on into my rental house of three years. He’s acting like he owns the joint, despite the fact that I brought him in when he was begging me over the phone to take him in because his girlfriend he just broke up with was arguing with him over what stuff they owned in the house she let him stay in.

Maybe that should have been a red flag, but when I first met him and needed to fill my room at risk of paying double rent for several weeks in Australia’s most expensive city I thought “Oh hell he works with disabled people like my cousin with Downe’s so what the hell.”

Anyway, long story short and many repetitive conversations of him not really liking to cede ground and having spikes of man-rage slamming the door shut over me forgetting not to put earphones in when I sat on the couch when he was using the TV. It was already summed up by his own words like we were some old dysfunctional gay couple, “I’m not signing another lease with you mate, and I’m not moving. We’re not compatible for each other.”

Thanks mate, all I can say is that I saved you and then I’m meant to play by your moods? Regardless, it’s been smooth enough a pack up and I’ll be moving in with an actual friend from years who happens to be gay but is actually a good and reasonable bloke to me. And before you ask, this guy’s happily monogomous already and I’ll be happily typing away in my own private room with thick enough sound-proof brick walls as usual.