Fuck medical school, I think I've found my true calling. I discovered that I have a green thumb!

So this weekend we had a dinner for my sister's birthday at Mondo, which is this "organic" restaurant. It sounds hideous and dykey, like everyone who eats there drives a rusted out Corolla and has a "Magic Happens" sticker (especially because it's in West End), but it was superb. The food was awesome, and the wanky rich businessmen who usually populate it were kept to a minimum. Anyway, what was even better than my quail ripieno and shredded zucchini were the apple and mint martini things. So awesome.

So I figure that in addition to my mojito addiction, buying those little baggies of mint from Coles just isn't going to cut it anymore, so I bought a mint shrub. I'm totally a gardener! I got a cool big-ass teracotta pot thing as well, so I'm being stylish as well as practical by growing my own mint. It's totally blossoming as well. You just dump some of that bagged dirt shit in, add water, and poof! Instant plant grow-age. Well, I suppose it is a bit of hard work. Like, I move it into dappled sunlight on my way to uni, then move it back under some of the orchids when I come home for lunch and water it.

This has made me sort of wonder about the "plight" of the farmers. I mean, I never really cared about rural Australia (hello, boring. No one listened or cared five years ago, I don't know why y'all are still bitching. Move to the fucking tropics if you've never seen rain, and get off my fucking front page). But really. If I can make a plant grow, surely they can? I'm useless at everything! Why don't they just do that, what's it called.... irrigation shit? Like, buy water? We have to buy our water, I don't see why they get off easy like that. Also, I would suggest buying some of that dirt in a bag. It's really good, and it means I didn't have to shovel anything. Our landscaper would have killed me anyway, if I had dug a hole in his garden beds.

See, I'm totally good at this garden shit. But I want a job that allows me to have a staff, rather than be part of the staff. How annoying.

Oh, but speaking of the help, Mother pulled me aside and asked me if the pipe had burst under my bathroom again, and if she should call the plumber. But then she was all "but I heard the painter walking around inside so maybe..." and I was all "yeah, his bowels are rotted" and she was all "gag". See?! I wasn't making it up! And he listens to John Laws. I HATE our painter!

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posted by Dawei at 3:30 pm