Wisdom.

So yesterday I had to go to the doctor's to get my typhoid injection before the trip, and because Mum was working I got the undeniable pleasure of having my Grandad and his partner Col (they're gay) take me up to Alstonville. Unfortunately I had forgotten that the nurse goes on lunch from 1:00 til 2:00, so we rocked up at 1:03 and I actually nearly shot the receptionist when she said we had to come back in an hour. I don't know where all that intense rage came from. You know when you're going along about your daily business all fine and then all of a sudden something little happens and BAM, you morph into this soul scorching rage demon from hell. I actually had to speak to myself and tell my brain that it wasn't the lady's fault and that it most probably was my brain's fault for forgetting the nurse goes to lunch at one. So like a completely normal person I was standing there at the desk with them all looking at me expectantly whilst I was having a silent screaming match in my head, complete with eye twitching and the works.

So anyway, I wandered aimlessly around this little country town with the olds for an hour just "hanging out" or, as Zac so eloquently put it; "working on the inheritance." Grandad so firmly believes he already has all that he needs in life, that he simply refused to come into any shops at all. He literally stood in the doorway of each shop and watched us while we looked around. He's mostly deaf too, so Colin would spend the time in the shop bitching about Grandad and his poor attitude. And my god can that old man bitch!
At one point, we passed a man trying to fix something to the handle of one of those blind person walking sticks. Colin goes: "Pffft, that man isn't blind! He just pretends to be blind so he gets more attention." Then Grandad tried to stick up for the poor guy shouting "He's got tunnel vision!" (because he's deaf and he shouts everything) and Col goes, "Oh we've all got bloody tunnel vision don't we? Doesn't mean you have to romp around with one of those great ruddy sticks and all." Haha. He comes from England so everything he says is in this posh accent and he has the darling habit of spitting a bit when he talks.

He sent me this video on facebook that day which was 3 'little people' doing Beyonce's single ladies dance. He says to me "My sister sent me that. She knows it gets to me. I can't stand midgets. No, no, I actually have a phobia of them. If I see one in the street, the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and I feel cold and clammy. God forbid if one might touch me or look at me or speak to me, I think I might actually faint. It's a serious phobia. The video is a bit politically incorrect, but I guess it is actually politically correct because it's the little people doing something for themselves that they want to do." Oh man.

Last time we had them over for dinner, Col started talking about how he couldn't go shopping because he was getting too fat. The conversation went like this.
Col; "...and we went into Big W to get jeans, no it might have been K-Mart. Rex! Where was it where I got those jeans? Was it big W or K-Mart? Rex! The jeans, do you remember-"
Rex; *yelling*" Those brown shoes? But aren't you a size nine?"
Col; "Oh for fuck's sake. The jeans! Jeans! you idiot."
Rex; *yelling* "Shears? What shears?"
Col; (to us) "And you wonder why I'm going fucking insane."