Cam Pain

Australia is looking at it’s first hung Government since World War II.

Whatever the fuck that means.

I voted before work on Saturday. I got to the RSL club polling booth that I had voted at last election (a few months ago) to find it was closed with directions to another one at a school further up. This substitute polling place was only two streets away, but I decided to do the gentlemanly thing and help an elderly woman who was completely bamboozled by the simple map left on the door of the Hall. She walked at such an infuriatingly slow pace that at one point I almost pile drived her into the gutter out of pure frustration.

There’s a red squiggly line telling me the past tense of pile drive is pile drove, but that doesn’t sound quite right.

There was the usual gaggle of promoters handing out voting suggestions at the entrance to the school. I got handed a flyer for the Liberal Party, one for the Green Party, but for some reason the guy with the Labor Information stared at me like I wasn’t worth the paper and didn’t give me anything. The louse.

I joined the queue for my district, only to find my name missing from the roll and the knowledge that my suburb of Norwood had changed districts (huh!?), and so I had to join another queue. I got to the front of this line and started having a blood nose as my name was signed off and my voting slips were handed to me. This isn’t a colourful metaphor, I was literally bleeding from the nose for some strange reason – and none of the volunteers had a tissue on them, so I decided to vote as quickly as possible and hit the bathroom.

In my nasal haemorrhage haste I fucked up the local ballot and didn’t even vote for who I was planning too – I couldn’t tell you now who got my vote. A mischievous idea flickered across my brain for the national vote – I was going to dip my finger in the blood covering my upper lip and scrawl “I VOTE FOR SATAN” across the page, but thought that might ruin some poor volunteer’s day, so decided to vote properly.

Well, as properly as a guy like me votes anyway.

There had been a bit of pre election banter at my work: three guys had told me not to vote for Liberal as they would waste water and money, and three other people told me not to vote for Labor as they would waste water and money, so naturally I was apathetic about the whole thing. And apparently Australia is running out of water and we are all going to fucking die.

My plan of attack was the same as a few months ago, vote for the coolest sounding party. This year, the Australian Sex Party got my vote.

Not to be confused with “Sexy Party”

I looked up their policies a few days later (I really should stop doing that, voting for a party and then researching them afterwards), and found some pretty modern ideas so I’m glad they got my vote. They seem to have a pro choice campaign (Abortion, Euthanasia, Same Sex Marriage) that gels well with my life philosophy (people should be able to do whatever they want) – it’s the kind of polar opposite to what Osama Bin Laden would vote for. Which is good, because that guy sucks.

And yeah, that’s about all I have to say about the Election. I’ve been seeing a few articles pop up on Yahoo news regarding what happens now, but I get lost in a sea of words like “Coalition” and “Backbenchers” and my nose starts to bleed again.

I’m also quite hungover. I went to a Sangria bar last night and got shit carted on wine based fuckery, and a Colombian chick taught me how to say ”A Unicorn vomited in my time machine” in Spanish, but I have since forgotten the words. Except “vomito”.

My mother rang me ten minutes ago and asked me to name the seven dwarfs, she’s at a sailing regatta in Hamilton Island with my old man, and everybody sounds quite tipsy. The dwarf name they were missing was “Doc”. I knew this, but don’t know who I voted for in the local ballot. No idea how a sailing regatta turns into a memory contest of cartoon midgets, but life can take unexpected turns.

This was supposed to be a final post on the World Cup, but I’ll put that up later, even though it’s hardly relevant. When I do, you can read it, or skip it entirely, or turn your computer off and go jerk off a stray cat into a saucepan – whatever floats your boat, like I said I’m all about the right to choose your future.

Let’s round off this post with a few photos from the Election. Stay out of trouble, kids.