Having contemplated this further I have decided that my own measuring system is a curious combination of both. For instance, when I weigh myself in the morning after doing my ablutions I stand on the scale and if I weigh less than 75kgs I am a happy chappy, if I weigh more I’m less than happy. I have absolutely no idea what 75kgs is in Stones and pounds.
If I weigh myself in public I am much heavier than that, this is partially due to the fact that I am wearing boots and clothes and have had something to eat and drink. It is possible to weigh yourself in the local shopping centre before consuming anything and you can take off your boots, jacket and sweater with only a few amused glances. However, if you start taking off your jeans and T-shirt people start to get a little worried and if you politely ask a passing little old lady to hold your socks and jocks, all hell will break loose.
The moral of this story is, that if you want to find your true weight and don’t want to end up in the slammer, invest $40 in a decent set of bathroom scales.
When it comes to my height, I’ve always said that I’m 5’ 10’’ but I think I was probably closer to 5’ 9’’, what’s an inch between friends (on second thoughts, don’t answer that). I think that is about 173cms, give or take a cm or two. 5’ 10’’ sounds like a good average height, not too short and not real tall, but 173cms seems like a real midget.
If you’re 2m tall that sounds good, but in reality it’s about 6’ 6’’, which is huge. If you’re 2m tall and your missus is the same, you’re going to end up with kids who are 7 feet tall. This would be great for the lads, they could always become highly paid basketball players or ruckmen in Aussie Rules Football, or lowly paid light-bulb changers and bouncers, but what about your daughters?
Women who are that big scare potential suitors, this is because the male brain has been hot-wired since the days of ‘hunter gathering’ to believe that they are the head honchos, wrestling with sabre toothed tigers and scaring the bejasus out of mastodons.
Nowadays, most of them are pasty-faced, lily-livered clerks, who knuckle a respectful forelock at their ‘superiors’ and go home to kick the dog and shout at the wife and kids to assert their superiority. What are they going to do if they’re confronted with a 7 foot tall Amazon, shout at her or run off whimpering?
The only guys who like their women that tall are the real short arsed ones, like Bernie E. and the Gnomes of Zurich, whose wallets are so thick that they need a step ladder to reach the top of them (the wallets and the women).
These guys are so obsessed with being successful, due to the fact that normal sized blokes used to park their pint pots on their heads while they lit up a Marlboro, that they have gone through life without the simple pleasures, such as sniffing the flowers. This is a bit of a pity really, because they’re closer to the ground, I suppose they make up for it by standing on their tippy-toes and sniffing their wives. I won’t pursue that line of thought, I shall leave it to your own prurient imaginations.
To get back to my original thoughts concerning the metric system, I live on a block of land that is a quarter acre, this is the Australian dream, a house on a quarter acre block. I know exactly what it looks like because I have to mow it. I haven’t got a clue what that is in hectares or square metres but I’m sure it sounds a lot more impressive in square yards.
When it comes to drinks, I am reasonably fluent in both Metric, Australian and Imperial. I know for instance that a ‘pot’ is 10 fl ozs which is half a pint, a ‘tinny’ holds 375ml as does a ‘stubby’, a ‘long neck bottle’ holds 750ml and there are 24 ‘tinnies’ to a ‘Slab’ which fits nicely into an ‘Esky’ with a bag or two of ice.
What more could a bloke ask for, I’m 5’ 9’’ and a bit and weigh approx. 75kgs, my missus is 4’ 11’, I have a son who is 5’ 11’ and a daughter who will be around 5’ 5’’. I live on a quarter acre block within walking distance (a mile and a half) of a shopping centre, where I could either buy a slab of VB cans and store them in an esky or weigh myself ‘au naturel’. I suppose if I could find a wallet, lost by one of the Gnomes of Zurich, I wouldn’t mind going up to 85kgs and consuming a few more ‘long necks’, but you can’t have everything.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull.
http://keith-skellern.blogspot.com
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