LOL-LIFE: HOW THE BLOG GENERATION DO IT

During the middle of my stint as an unemployed man (not necessarily accurate, as at time of writing, stint has not necessarily finished), I did a one-day temp job for this brilliant company called Nespresso. It is already a raging success in Europe, one of those things that is sure to revolutionise the way we drink coffee. I was hired specifically to fold three seperate pieces of marketing (catalogue, order form and "about" info complete with a magnetic strip that will stick to fridge) into a generic one page letter and place in an A5 envelope. It was during my eight hours of doing this that I decided that it was essential that I wrote a short story immediately. Not just a once a week/fortnight blog entry that I force those around me to read while I stand behind them, staring at their shoulders for signs of laughter. A proper short story, like the ones on TV. Something that would be published in an all-Australian author compilation, edited by Frank Moorhouse and read by very few.

Finally, I folded the last Nespresso brochures into the last A5 envelope. I told the nameless marketing woman that I had finished. She thanked me profusely for doing such a good job, in other circumstances (it's an ongoing hilarious thing I do) I would have said "thanks, I'm glad I went to uni," but I just said something that suggested it was a pleasure. Here is some dialogue.
"No worries at all. The coffee is actually pretty nice."
"I know, it's amazing!"
She didn't say this in the way that young people from the inner-west say it to later describe a brunch conversation either, but in the way the word was intended, like for the description of a prize-winning popular novel about someone who grew up very poor. She then handed me three thick, glossy magazines devoted solely to the specific brand of coffee and coffee-maker.
"Read! Have fun!" She actually said that. It was amazing.
George Clooney is the international spokesperson of this coffee. European photographers and designers get their photos taken with this coffee. San-Pellegrino have collaborated with this coffee. It is really excellent coffee.

On the bus home I looked at some pictures of coffee and decided maybe I would write a short story on an amazing conversation I had at brunch. I sat at down at my computer and could not remember the last brunch conversation. It's hard. Most good short stories are unbearably sad, and my brunch conversations are exclusively not-sad. One time, a man at a table near where I was brunching began to write down every word of my groups conversation. If the transcripts of that conversation were to be published they would probably become a comedy for smart people - everyone at the table had been to university, and we were joking about racism.

A proper short story takes up at least 15 pages of a novel, which I have calculated to be about three to five thousand words.
As we all know the linear...

THINGS I DID INSTEAD OF FINISHING THIS SHORT STORY:
* Googled the definition of the term "gauche", with every intention of including it in the final word count.
* Walked outside to check how cold my wet clothes were. A: V. wet.
* Got excited while outside as I thought I heard people in block of flats across the lane having sex.
* Realised it was just a lady on the balcony, on the phone, probably talking about sex.