I Guess That's Why They Call It The Day Before Your Birthday Blues

It's my birthday tomorrow.

I turn 35.

This is what gets me. It's all supposed to happen tomorrow. I get all the nice phone calls from mates, have a nice lunch, the extended family come over and eat lots of chips, the cake gets cut and wahey, lovely day (apparently).

But it's really today that shits me.

The dread of turning another year and fuck all to show for it. I should be getting all the nice calls now because right now it feels like midway through the third quarter and Carlton's up by 11 goals. Mates have left the ground to console themselves into the sagging breasts at the Cricketers' Arms but because I'm a mindless stoic I force myself to stick around to hear that horribly catchy song.

Let's look at my lot and line it up against Deborah Mailman's character from Secret Life Of Us and her happy life trifecta of good job, good house and good lovin' (which, I'm sure, was paraphrased from the thoughts of a dead Greek).


I regret to inform the other applicant was deemed more suited for the advertised position

Good Job
Not even close. Well, wrong. VERY FRICKEN close. I shit you not but in the past six months since the knee reconstruction I have been "down to the last two" in not one, not two or even three interviews but EIGHT, YES EIGHT, THE LAST FUCKING EIGHT great full time jobs I've interviewed for. No really, down to the last fucking two applicants in all of them.

"Down to the last two" shit's wearing me down folks.

If it wasn't for the odd freelance writing gig popping outta nowhere I'd be insane and broke.


Our house in the middle of the street, yesterday.

Good House
You often read about people in their 30s living with their parents. I'm one of them. Great. No amount of Foxtel, cable internet or daily walks in one of Melbourne's leafier suburbs can make up the constant fear that lazy journalists are writing tired articles about you.


!?

Good Lovin'
Yeah, right. As if.

So when I should be getting ready to hum You Say It's Your Birthday, It's My Birthday Too, Yeah for the next twenty four hours, I can only really hear one song....

Bup badup badup,
Bup badup badup badup badup badup,
Here come the navy blues,
The old dark navy blues.

And it's awful.

More Reasons To Be Cheerful: Melbourne Suburbs Edition

Meddling kids run amok in Oakleigh.


My record smallest recorded flathead catch on lure at my secret rock fishing spot in Carrum.


Beth Ditto's favorite nut shop, again in Oakleigh.


A kitten named Billie watching The Bill in Alphington.


An older lady preparing for a family lunch at the Dandenong Market.


Richmond's most generously stocked video emporium.

London's Burning: An Exclusive Report

Camden Market burns, yesterday

The Nightwatchman's UK correspondent, Matty Boy Gregory reports:

London is under attack. As a pal, it felt only fair I let you know; if for nothing else just so you can make Melbourne aware.

We both know that sometimes hyperbole can seep out as a necessary by-product of factual reporting. Well thankfully on this occasion this hasn't been a problem. Most of London is currently in flames, consumed by what can only be described as an urban forest fire.

For national security it is just being reported as a fire in a predominantly empty market area: unfortunately the market area is Camden. This is the favoured living and sociallising area of the Media, so we do not know how long we can keep up this necessary rouse.

All I ask is that you monitor any live feed you can, and if by some miracle, such as living 300 miles away, we manage to make it through the night, you let them know I cared.

Which reminds me of my favorite old insurance jokes...

Hung: So sorry hear your restaurant burn down last night.

Wang: No, Hung! That tomorrow night!

Stuff You America And Your Exciting Super Bowl Finish, Australia Does Sporting Drama Best

You won't see a more gripping ending to this one at the inaugural World Handball Championships.


Just as Allan Jeans, Tom Hafey and Peter MacKenna are about to stage an all out barney over Barney's hit on Neville Bruns behind play, Jack Dyer puts all grudges into perspective with a well timed Bertocchi Hams presentation.


You won't catch Laurence O'Toole!

Celebrate World Of Sport here.