I see this sign every single day at the office whenever I need to go turn the lights on or off. I’m constantly reminded that I am, indeed, a head. Therefore I must watch myself.

Well, stuff you. Here they are.

I really like that guy’s hat.

And here’s another one.

In the past five years I’ve travelled overseas about two or three times annually. So you would assume that when someone says to me “Once you get to Singapore, pick up your boarding pass from the gate,” I should know that really mean “Go to the transfer desk to get your pass before boarding.”

But no. Alas, no.

So 30 minutes before the plane to Sydney takes off I arrive at the plane. They ask me where my boarding pass is. I give them a dumb look, which I do believe I’m becoming quite famous for, and they tell me to go to Transfer Desk C. The heavily pregnant woman at C then tells me she can’t let me on the plane. She tells me I might have to be on stand-by for a couple of days. My dumb look turns to that look that young white women get when they’ve just lost their virginity and now a guy in a hockey mask is out to get them.

Her maternity kicks in, as I can see in her kind eyes. She makes a call, and then tells me she’s booked me on a direct flight to Melbourne – departing in 13 hours.

I wish I could be relieved. But all I can think about is my son’s exciting morning as he prepares for his first day of school, around about the same time as I’ll be in a customs queue some 200km away.

Damn.

So, anyway, last night I had a conversation with someone who was interested in volunteering for a program I manage for work. At one point in the conversation I told her a cheque for expenses is usually sent out to volunteers on a quarterly basis. It’s not much money, definitely not enough to be considered payment for services, but enough to cover petrol.

And she asked if it had to be delivered quarterly, and wondered if it could be given to her annually.

I told her she was a saucy minx. Who on earth would want money shoved up there?

My computer died on Tuesday. Not the kind of slow death my cousin suffered when I dared him to eat the entire contents of the collection plate at midnight Christmas mass of 1982, but quietly and quickly. I turned it on, it beeped once confidently, then whimpered, then was no more. I tried my best to mourn her, but I only have ten weeks until the thesis is due, so I needed to buck up and move on, fast.

I’m now typing on a brand new thingymajig, that is large and has bells and whistles and shit, and it’s a desktop, so I’m chained to the home for a while until I can afford a replacement lappy. I didn’t have enough dosh to buy a laptop with all the speed and gadgets I needed for the task at hand, and I didn’t have to shop around much, so I jumped in and committed myself to this.

It’s not a bad device, but it has this thing going on about it which is kinda annoying – face recognition technology. I don’t know what the hell we need this for. But if choose to configure it, the computer’s cam takes a shot of the guy turning on the computer, and can choose not to fire up at all, or choose not to open up certain files and programs. It means every time I turn it on I see a little picture of myself staring at the screen wondering why I can see myself, then little lines and dots cover the capture of my face, and then it says “Welcome… Oh. It’s you.”

It certainly means a change in lifestyle. No longer can I check my emails in the morning before starting my daily man-beauty regimen.

I guess that’s technological determinism for you.