I Shall Not Kiss Babies

In the unlikely event that I run for some sort of government office, I hereby do solemnly swear that I will not kiss any babies.

I really don’t understand the motivation behind it. It would be creepy and weird if some bloke came and kissed my kids on the head, why would you do it to a stranger’s kids?

(I’m not a kiss-to-greet person in general anyway – polite handshakes and nods all the way for me.)

Conference Lines

I have spent too much time at work exchanging confused looks with colleagues while we try and figure out what the guy on the other end of the conference line just said.

If you are that person sitting on the conference line typing away at your emails on your noisy keyboard without your phone on mute: I hate you.

I Misspoke

Well, that was embarrassing.

I was just talking to a work colleague, and we agreed to meet next week to catch up. So I tried to say to her, “Great, I’ll book a 1/2 hour slot in your calendar early next week.” Did I manage to say that? No.

“Great, I’ll book an hour in your slot then.”

The Promise of SharePoint

Too often at work I send an email that says:

“Latest version of <Some Document> is attached, and I’ve also uploaded it to the SharePoint.”

Every time I hit send, I imagine someone on the SharePoint team dies a little inside.

(For the record, I’ve tried not attaching it and just putting the direct SharePoint link in the email, and every time I get a bunch of replies, “please send me the latest copy.”)

Scorpions: Wind of Change

This song convinced me to buy my first stereo system. I remember standing in the [Big W] at Karrinyup shops, and this song came on a TEAC stereo system sitting on the shelf. It sounded better than anything I’d heard before (all we had at home were mono-speaker radios and TVs) and I was convinced to buy it right then on the spot. Still think about that moment from 1991 every damn time this song comes on the radio.


I had surgery under general anaesthetic today, from a surgeon I’ve only briefly met in his consulting rooms. In the last few moments before I went under, my conversation with the surgeon was like this:

Surgeon: So you’re a police officer, right?

Me: No, I work for a bank.

Surgeon: Oh right, but I know your in-laws, right?

Me: No.

My last thought before going under was, “Wait, am I in the right place? What is this guy going to do to me?”

Thankfully when I woke up it was all okay, and I have a lovely new pair of boobs.