Perhaps the food of choice for our space/time visitor?

Mike's Pith & Wind - Space/time traveller
It was muggy and windy in Melbourne yesterday, thankfully nothing like as bad as the Bureau had direly suggested, but with all the dust being blown about, quite uncomfortable enough. By my handy travellers’ weather guide system it was a Sydney sort of day, minus the diesel fumes.
The water at home had been cut off all morning, so I’d opted for a seafood saba at Universal Sushi, presuming the water may not been restored by my return. I’d also spent some time at Music Junction trying to encourage them to find some speaker stands that didn’t occupy the entire stage, like the monsters I’d picked up from them on the weekend, and in the process I had borrowed a Behringer graphic equaliser to supplement the new, compact Behringer mixing desk that I hadn’t noticed was deficient in this area until we set up at St Andrews on Sunday.
The combination of the weather and these concentrated retail negotiations had me feeling quite enervated by the time I slumped in the back of the No. 70 tram, and so I didn’t react in one way or the other when I was confronted by the abandoned Hungry Jacks wrapper on the seat opposite. (pic)
Had I felt full of business I might have looked (in vain) for a rubbish receptacle on the tram before delicately picking up the wrapper and taking it off at my stop to thoughtfully dispose of it there. But I didn’t feel full of business; so the wrapper and I regarded each other warily for the duration of my journey to ..read more

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Dick's Toolbox - Just a bit player..
I awoke on St Valentine’s Day morning thinking not of my wife, lying recumbent and inelegant as she was with ‘The Age’ puzzle page spread over her face. St Valentine’s Day always inspires a spirit of sardonic joy, as I have a profound contempt for this candy-coloured tangerine-flake festival of pubescent cupidity, so I wasn’t wondering what romantic and senseless trifle I might lay at the feet of my incredulous paramour, but rather what other purpose could the day have before breakfast. And, anyway, what need of another incandescent trifle has the woman who has everything?
So I wandered tangentially through the skeins of an increasingly imperfect memory, arriving, with no sense of inevitability, at three other girls I had known many years ago and whose paths briefly intersected with mine. read more