First post.

I got off the tram in Collins Street and wandered down a southbound, near-deserted laneway, headed for work. As I strolled along I heard a clinking sound coming from the pants region and thought the change in my pockets was unusually loose and noisy today. When I reached down to adjust the coins into a less vocal attitude I felt the ends of my belt hanging loose, separated from each other. This meant at least two things:

1. I don't need a belt to keep my trousers up anymore.

2. I'd forgotten to buckle it before leaving the house 45 minutes earlier. Which means I'd walked to the tram stop, stood amongst the other commuters at the tram stop, and ridden on the tram with my belt end dangling from under my untucked shirt like a flattened, sweat-stained, brown leather phallus.

No wonder that bemused school kid fully adult office worker gave me her seat.

Welcome. This is the sort of crazy messed up shit you'll read about after I've had too little sleep all the time here on "I Don't Know Either." Welcome.

My last blog, here, has some of the more entertaining old posts from my history of blogatry. Check them out if you get bored with this place.