Tag Archives: Trash and Treasure

No Rush. Really.

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Career criminals: Exhibits 'A' and 'E'

This.  This is what I did not watch last night.  Despite the fact that it had infiltrated my mind (and soul) many other Thursday nights.  (Hey, hey.  I watch The Slap on ABC net, ok?  Besides, I went into that one knowing we were intense and short-term only).

Decision makers at Channel 10 might as well have stabbed me in the heart when presenting the fact that last Thursday was the final Rush ever (ever…ever).

Catherine McClements.  Gone.  Rodger Corser, Jolene Anderson, Callum Mulvey, Samuel Johnson, Nicole da Silva and co… nary a goodbye wave between them.

(silence)

…..

I have been told that when it comes to engaging with those people and situations speaking at me from within television sets and what not, that I am “fussy”.

Well.  Get this straight.  I am.  With a capital freaking F.

Don’t get me wrong – we are not talking the type of Fussy that needs: high quality scripts, thoughtful performances, award-winning direction and flawless editing.  Sometimes.

Sometimes I need some of those things.  But when you take a good long hard look at the stellar list of my “must watches”, you will see that this….  this is not always the case, you will see.

(You don’t think I’m going to present that list right here at this very moment, do you?)

Silly!  That would detract from many other inane blog posts that I could be making on other days!  You will see (soon enough) that the tele-box (and associates) are quite often like my own form of gravity.

So.

Rush.  (One show that fulfilled many of the Fuss).

There is none.

Looks like we’re done, huh?

It will be months before I can talk about you.  Dissect our relationship (and my feelings about you) properly.  I will, however, say this:  any tv show that can bandy about the term vagina cologne” with such aplomb should be kept on and in the air until I am buried.

That is all I will say on that matter.

Looks like I’ll just have to revert to the endless list of other copsfluff shows that I fawn over.  But.  If you think I’ll revert to popular opinion such as NCIS, Law and Order (any departmental type) or other nonsense… Well.  You have got another thing coming.

No, siree.  I am way classier (and stuff) than that rubbish.

Stop pretending you don’t know what class is when it comes to cop shows.  You know what it is.  It is copsfluffclass is what it is.  The kind that seems to be dominated by the Canadians for starters: Rookie Blue! Flashpoint!  Castle! Or the other type that relies on the serious business of being serious, or seriously melodramatic: Criminal Minds! Prime Suspect! Chicago Code! (They canned that one too, but I’m not above repeats).

And with things so dire on the Aussie front, I’ll bust out the VHS for Cop Shop if I have to.

Whatever.  Whatever.  One woman’s trash is another ones treasure.

Anyways.  It’s not all terribly, bad, me-needing comfort news.

I have real life cop action happening right here in my backyard main street, I do.  Huh!  It’s tantamount to me and my dogs being central to a reality tv piece, actually.

Actually, it is.

Just two days ago, no later than 3pm, me and the pooches were stopped right dead in the middle of Main Road Hepburn by the D-squad.  (The Daylesford cop shop is right near the Neighbourhood Centre.   I’ve booked in for an excursion next week).  We were innocently on our hell-bent way to our wonderful local fruit & vege shop Tonna’s.  (Re-stock for salad days on the busy agenda).  All things innocent soon turned a frown with impending dramatics though.

It was pretty dramatic.

Seriously, if you are not sitting down, I suggest you do.  You’re going to need to be seated is all I am saying.

The drama came in 3 waves.  (As these things do).

1)      It was odd.  Perculiar, even.  I have seen the D-squad vehicle with police decals only one other time in the history of my almost three months of being here.

I let out a gasp, people.  A gasp.

The excitement of seeing them with their RBT kits and three witches hats guiding the three car strong traffic queue (that was the total traffic in the street, people) had me giddy.  So giddy that I was clutching at straws and seatbelts trying to remember if I had had a drink with alcoholic content in the past 24 hours.

I had not (is what I finally remembered when I came to my sensibilities).

2)      I realised (when my senses were in the place they were originally), that I was, in fact, already breaking the l.a.w and order.

Der-Der (Insert Law and Order scene break music here… not that I’ve watched it or anything).

Technically speaking it was not me breaking the law.  It was Evie and Augie (the dog-children).  But I (the good mother that I am) take full responsibility for them and their actions.  (Mainly).

Do you want to know what they were doing?  (Actually, what they were not doing).  No?  Well, you’re going to hear about it anyway.

They were not wearing their doggy harness-seatbelts is what they were doing (or not doing, whatever the case may be).  In fact, I’d left the house scoffing at the harnesses – Essentially thumbing at them.

Here’s what went down then:

I looked at them (the dog-children, patiently seated together in the front passenger seat).  And they, in return, looked at me.  I then (cautiously, I might add) looked at the one car in front of me and took a sly sideways glance at the police officers.  (The dogs were still looking at me).  Contemplating a quick, illegal u-turn and getaway, I instead opted for the sane option:

I proceeded to yank the (human) seatbelt over the dogs.  (Dogs still looking at me).

That’s right, I pulled the seatbelt over them.

To say that I may not have been thinking as clearly as I thought I may have been thinking is probably an understatement here.

The crooked smirks the dogs were giving me jolted me back to the situation at hand though.

I quickly pretended the aforementioned action I had taken – did not – in fact happen.  I merely (with some panic) unclasped them from the (human) seatbelt.  I then chuckled to myself about how ridiculous I was being and said to the dogs: “I’d rather go down for the seatbeltless dogs crime”.  What’s more, I pondered “This would be as bad as things could get”.

Wrong.

3)      I carefully, quietly, and (with extreme caution) approached a safe position alongside the pleasant lady police officer person.  I bit my bottom lip and kept my foot on the brake.  Forgetting other safety precautions such as putting the car into neutral or levering the handbrake on, I simply looked at her (somewhat bemused) face.  (My subconscious speaks loudly at the best of times.  In this case I think it was preparing to do a runner).

Pleasant police officer looks through the window and smiles at me – and then smiles at the dogs.

Ok, so things were looking up.

But.

With some pleasantries aside and without bothering to check my licence (or road laws concerning unharnessed dogs apparently), nice police lady sticks the tube toward me with a look on her face that suggests she wonders how many Pimms I’ve had today.

Then.

All hell breaks loose.

Augie, it appears, is rather protective of us girls.

Especially when there are blue people in powerful positions peering down at us sticking (what could be contrived as a thin, white, tubular gun) in my face.

He growled.  Loudly.  Guttural to boot.

And.  Then.  He lunged.

I tell no lie.  He lunged (wish I had them buckled in after all) toward (probably now not smiling) police officer lady and barked at her.  Loudly.  Teeth bared, I might add.

I caught him though.  In the nick of time.  Thank the gods of Good Lady Luck land.

Somehow…somehow… I managed to keep my foot on the brake, dog in my hands and a smile on my face.

“Sorry” (or, at least that is what I think I might have said, if anything did even squeak out of my dry vocal cords).

(You can pipe in if you think this was not an adequate approach).

Well.

Quite frankly, after what ensued, I will be forever cheering on the girls in blue – at least in this town anyway.  After some tentative chuckling and off-handed comments about “fierce beasts” and “not going to get my hand bitten off, am I’s?” (especially after Augie barked and lunged for the second time)… the good lady police officer merely let me have my three awkward attempts at blowing in the bag and then…

Said “Have a good day”.

And she let me go.  Didn’t even need to post bail.

Now, that – that, is impressive policing work, I say.  Catherine McClements: this lady did done you proud.

….

Not a dramatic enough ending for you?

Well, Rush exited without blazing gunfire too.

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