Friday, April 30, 2010

Don't Ask, Don't Telephone

My friend Richard sent me an email this morning telling me to check out a Lady Gaga/Beyoncé Telephone parody performed by US troops in Afghanistan.


I did late this morning and it had about 35,000 views.
Having noticed later on nearly every website had picked it up, I went to see how many more hits it had, and saw it's become "private", as you'll see if you click on that link. Pity.

I hope none of them got into trouble. It was funny (straight guys dancing often are), they were clearly having a ball and the dude doing Beyoncé's bit was hot.

Stop blog! Found it still running on Gawker.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Yo, bromeliad

To bromeliad enthusiasts, I apologise, but I find them frustrating.
There, I said it.

Nearly all year, they're just green, pointy, often ragged and frankly messy-looking.
We've had a clump of four in front of the house and this summer one of them decided to upstage the rest, in admittedly spectacular fashion:


Well!
Now she's gone, the other three have decided to go for it, all at once. It's like The Supremes in reverse:


I've since discovered these are called pups. They'll only flower once.
Now I feel a little guilty.

Insert Monae headline pun here

I reckon there'll be plenty of those this year.
Although I only recently heard about Janelle Monae through Joe.My.God, after a good chunk of this afternoon watching her videos on YouTube, I realise she has been busy being sensational for years.


I haven't been truly excited by music for a while. I figured it was age (I have rediscovered Icehouse, which was a pleasant surprise) but Beyoncé and Lady Gaga have been the only two who've really raised my interest (by the way, where the hell have all the great black male singers gone – the ones who don't need or want AutoTune?).

But who cares, because now this amazing woman comes along and she's electric to watch and listen to – rare when you think about it. She's this miraculous combination of James Brown, Michael Jackson, Etta James, Missy Elliott, Prince, André 3000... Everything good about soul and R&B and jazz.
She has the look, the voice and the moves. And she's tiny.
Like Kylie tiny.

I'm buying her new CD as soon as I can:


I haven't bought a CD in yonks.

Disclaimer: This blog is in no way officially affiliated with Ms Monae. If only.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Not-so-strange fruit

Our strange fruit was just an everyday orange, I'm afraid.
It fell off the tree a few days ago:


There are plenty more to follow. A nice change from all those bloody pumpkins, I suppose.

Party in The Bend

Our neighbours across the road invited us to a house party on Saturday.
They hold them in their backyard every so often, with recorded and live music plus karoake and they tend to get loud. Too loud, really, so I escaped inside the house for most of the night.

At one point I found myself at a table caught between two men animatedly arguing the merits of Holden and Ford. For my American readers (both of you), Holden and Ford are arch-rival car companies. Ne'er the twain shall meet, and all the rest.
One bloke, very drunk, was chagrined that, as a Holden man, he was currently working for a Ford dealership. The other was gloating.

In a hapless attempt to contribute – it is as this point that I should have reminded myself, "You're not in Darlinghurst anymore, sweetheart!" – I said it was just like the Sharks and the Jets in West Side Story.


Fortunately, they either didn't hear me, didn't have a clue what I was talking about or didn't give a shit, because I was ignored completely.

It's the last time I'll inject Sondheim into a conversation. I could get in trouble.

Surveying the scenery

I've always been baffled by those surveyor tripods.
I get the vague concept that they're used to establish co-ordinates but whenever someone tries to explain the process to me my mind wanders and I start singing a song in my head (at the moment it's Tightrope by Janelle Monae – I never thought I'd say it but I think she might be the new Beyoncé).

Anyway, this was on the riverbank last week:


What are they surveying? Is there something planned? A freeway? A pedestrian bridge?
As you can see, there isn't much on the other side, just Lorn. Mind you, Lorn is fairly bursting with pretty-as-a-picture Federation houses but it's hardly a destination, even for those who can afford to live there.

Makes me wonder, that's all.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

The shot-put incident

I was ten, maybe eleven, small for my age...
Still, I had an affinity (and encouraging father) that led me to Little Athletics.
For a short kid I wasn't a bad jumper and I did a good 200 metres but it all ended in a harrowing experience involving me reluctantly hurling an junior-size metal ball into the stupidly-running-in-the-shot-putting-area head of some poor boy whose name I've somehow forgotten.
I still remember the sickening thud and him collapsing in a pile.
I wonder if he's okay.

This walk through our nearby playing field brought back memories:

Friday, April 23, 2010

Small touches

The heavy truck traffic on the New England Highway just gets worse and can be a little frightening.
Honestly, I get nervous.

But then I see a delightful little, quite pointless nod to artistic compensation:


Love it.
I just wonder who got paid to bother?

Coal Porter

I took this photo on instinct (I've been a trainspotter-by-duress for many years – ask anyone who grew up in Dover Place, Engadine) and this region's coal trains horrify/fascinate me. Also, the backdrop's pretty (for now):


However, Mick (who was meant to be watching the road of course – I'm a shocking passenger, always with the invisible brake) noticed the signage, which neither of us had seen here before:


Looks positively Cyborg, doesn't it? Well it used to stand for Queensland Rail.
As Mick, my beloved, decent, sensible Mick said,
"What the fuck are they doin' down here?"

Wallpumpkins


Don't worry, someone will come along.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Yummy Noodles: Best Food in Maitland?

Yummy Noodles is right next to the cinema and does what it says. I love it.



It's a humble, noble take-away joint – almost defiantly bleak of an evening (okay, all the time), as if to deter lingerers – but the food is cooked on the spot by a no-nonsense, indeterminately-Asian-speaking, occasionally squabbling family affair.

Once again, today they rescued me from what would have been another day of half-hearted, barely weight-maintaining nutrition.
Their "Yummy Hot Box" (you get to determine the spiciness and somehow they understand "medium" – finally!) is a meal that truly transcends its commercial potential. It takes me two goes to get through it and it's $9.50.

This is a big call, but considering my foodie mates from a former life, I feel embrazened to say – and I'm openly daring them to come and prove me wrong (Pat, Myffy - we have a spare room) – that this is The Best Food In Maitland.

Whatever Happened to Billie Jean?

The Maitland Regional Art Gallery is a marvellous (I use no sarcasm here) addition to our end of town, but it wasn't until we walked home this evening that I discovered its true wonder.
The zebra crossing segueing into the Billie Jean staircase!

Melbourne Storm, possible drizzle

If you don't know rugby league... (picture V-fingers) bffffftttt... jog on.

Otherwise, this was the reaction to the Melbourne Storm salary-cap scandal, by the Maitland Pumpkin Pickers team (back in the local comp after a year off) after training this afternoon, at the Queens Arms Hotel, as the news unfolded:


Unadulterated, dead-sexy disinterest.
Mick was a little miffed there were no hot dogs left.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Sorry, Betty White rules

Found this today.
I love Betty White in The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Golden Girls, even that new chocolate bar ad.
I haven't seen any scene she hasn't brazenly stolen, or at least sneakily purloined, only to hand it back to the purported star without even a wink.

But then there's this. I hadn't a clue. Amazing and so pretty on so many levels:



Update: The St Olaf Glee Club and Betty White Lines. Brilliant!

Timely warning

Writing about depressing signs along the road to Newcastle before, it reminded me of an electronic apparatus that constantly illuminates messages of guidance and threat about half way there.
At least this one I captured a while ago has poetry:


I think both the motorcycle and cocktail version of the sidecar should be avoided, myself.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Auction artefact #5: Radio Time

Mick's mystery box lot just keeps on giving.

At first I thought this looked like a Bible. Then I realised it more closely resembled a volume of Reader's Digest. Either way, unlikely to be stolen:


But wait, what's that inside?


This "ideal travelling companion for the picnic, beach and sporting events" is an AM radio as well as an alarm clock and bears no branding apart from "Clock - Japan" and "Radio - Hong Kong".

Thanks to Mick's previous life as an electrician, it is once again fully functional.

Signs of depression

Another doctor's appointment, another trip to Newcastle.

It's never a good reason for a journey and just quietly the scenery isn't pretty once you get into town.
Don't get me wrong, Newcastle has some beautiful pockets and I should make the effort to photograph them for another post, but the section of town we pass through (Hunter Street) is a depressed main thoroughfare with a lot of boarded-up premises punctuated by the occasional flash of faded glamour, like the Theatre Royal, which is for sale, in case you're interested:


Perhaps even more than the closed businesses, I get depressed by the ones that are still, somehow, managing to survive. Sometimes I just don't see how it's possible, given their downtrodden appearance.
Unless, of course, they're deliberately going for pity-trade...

Personally, I was tempted to order a made-to-measure anything just to give the poor person working here something to do:


Happily, creative vandals can supply comic relief.
Call me childish, but this cheered me up no end:

Monday, April 19, 2010

The blackout

A week or so ago, we received a letter from the electricity company informing us that service will be shut off for a period. Not just our house – the neighbourhood.
Right now there are telegraph poles lining the streets awaiting installation and it's all happening tonight.
Exactly how much of the neighbourhood will be affected remains to be seen but this enforced flashback to pre-electricity has thrown up a few issues. One in particular: what the hell do we do?

It starts at 9pm and frankly there's only so much candlelit reading I can handle. Having scoured the house for non-electrical sources of entertainment I have come to the realisation – with some amusement and a little shame – that in the absence of any boardgames, Mick and I will have to bide our time with a pack of Jeff Stryker playing cards:


In all honesty, I don't remember how I got these – a jokey secret Santa gift, I suspect – but, as you can see, they showcase the full emotional range of the premier gay porn star of the '80s:


It took me a while to arrange those artfully, or at least without engorged penis plunging this blog into distasteful depths. Still, they give even a game of Snap a little added spice.

Seriously though, I hope this blackout doesn't cause a riot of looting and/or pillaging.
Warning to would-be invaders: we might not have Scrabble, but we do have a dingo trap:


Update: My plans of Stryker by Candlelight collapsed when it emerged (too late) that a) I don't know the rules to either Euchre or Poker and b) Mick's never payed Gin Rummy, which is the only game I do know how to play.
I was in bed by 10.

Auction artefact #4: Folding opera glass

Note the singular "glass":


Adds a little something, don't you think?
These came in a $35 box lot with a number of old radios (Mick loves those), a Brownie camera and other things.
The very uselessness of these, though – considering my circumstances – gave me a frisson of delight.

That, and the action. Glass goes up:


Glass goes down.


They are, as my friend Lance would say, ginchy.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Last pumpkin standing

Some people are always the last to leave a party.
This is not a judgement, merely an observation. Indeed, they're often the best type of guest. (Okay, fine, I'm one of them.)

Nevertheless, being the last one to leave can lead to unattractive sights.
Not you – your surroundings:


This pumpkin has decided it's not going anywhere, dammit! The rest of the backyard looks like a bombsight and a few pumpkins have already exploded (i.e. rotted) but honestly we're not quite sure how to defuse this one:


And then there's another out the back that's convinced it's still attached to a life-form:


Now this has gone beyond awkwardness and entered the realm of poignancy.

As much as I love melodrama, I shall counter this by promising to bake a sunny batch of Flo Bjelke-Petersen's famous pumpkin scones in the near future.
If you don't know who she is, all the better.

Oh Mindy

I don't want to get all linky, but I have just watched something that really piqued my interest.

I used to secretly love The Facts of Life, especially Mindy Cohn as Natalie Green. Her smile always got me:


Now I reckon Mindy is going to get a serious poofter-led career revival – a la Sharon Gless in Queer as Folk and now Burn Notice (while poor Tyne Daly's languishing on Broadway somewhere) – as Violet, the titular, self-proclaimed fag hag trying to find love in Violet Tendencies.
From the trailer, she nails it. I've met that woman. Some of the "gay" stuff makes me cringe though.
I fear it's the whiff of truth, albeit dated.

I mean, where are the beards apart from the artful stubble?
Seriously, these days Matt Stone and Trey Parker look more contemporarily gay (from my admittedly limited recent experience).

I find that interesting, is all...

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sue Sylvester rules

Jane Lynch is brilliant.



As you noticed I'm sure, it's been flipped horizontally. It was the only clip I could find that would play in Australia. Curious.
Still, a good opportunity to come out as a Glee fan.

Yes, I am openly Gleeful.

Cast no nasturtium

We haven't had a tour of the garden in a while, so I thought I'd talk nasturtiums.

I like them for several reasons:
You can eat them.
They're pretty when in flower:


They repel certain pests.
Nasturtium literally means "nose-tweaker".

There's a specimen I planted in front of the house that has grown very large but has absolutely no intention of flowering, which is irritating. It's just a hostel for caterpillars:


If does, however, highlight the other thing I like about nasturtiums.
The hydrophobic moments of beauty:



As far as phobias go, it's not a bad one.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Auction artefact #3: Ethel Smith

Okay, I'll give the record-box revelations a little break after this (although I still have a radio that looks like a Bible and fold-up opera glasses to come!), but I had to share the wonder of Ethel Smith.

The cover isn't exactly in mint condition but you get a sense of her effervescence:


Ethel Smith (was there ever a less glamorous name for an entertainer?) had until this afternoon completely passed me by, but I'm a convert. Like Klaus Wunderlich, she played the organ. Unlike Klaus, she holds the cheese and reaches for the gin; Society Cha Cha Cha in particular is just screaming out for a round of Gibsons.
It's all a bit kitsch, sure, but whereas so much organ music can be funereal (or make you want to kill yourself, as in Klaus' case, which is much the same thing), Ethel's playing is just so perky. As well as highly accomplished of course.

This discovery prompted a YouTube search and I found a slice of 1948 Disney/Ethel fabulousness (just wait until you hit around 2:30, it only gets better):



I still can't work out how to fit it into this little screen, but who cares?

Update: I think I recognise this dress (see album cover).

Auction artefact #2: The Land of 78 rpm

I took a few more tentative steps into the record box (one of them, anyway) and tumbled into another era.
There are a couple of dozen old 78s, all surprisingly heavy (about twice the weight of a regular album). They're mostly in plain sleeves but some of them have quite lovely packaging (Australian, to boot).
I wish we had the technology to give this a spin:


God bless YouTube for sharing The Donkey Serenade with everyone.

Auction artefact #1: Christie Allen

I was never a huge Christie Allen fan, but I do have fond memories of this, which prompted much dancing on our chocolate shag-pile living room carpet (life in the seventies had its challenges) whenever it was played on Countdown. Even then I loved how ridiculous the lyrics are:
I really need intensive care;
he has a cardiac-arrestive stare.

We also now have the original 45!


That was her biggest hit, but her Wikipedia entry shows she had several more singles in a short space of time and was even voted TV Week/Countdown Female Performer of the Year two years in a row. She died only a couple of years ago and few outside Australia/NZ would know about her, which is a pity. She had a brief and literally shining career (she peaked simultaneously with Spandex and lip-gloss).

Anyway, in buying box lot #whatever, Mick not only inadvertently unearthed her finest moment, he practically reunited her entire oeuvre:


This is one seriously strange collection of records.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Maitland kisses "ass"

Reading Cinemas' act of patriotism was noble, but quickly undone.
Someone either cottoned on or caved in:


Fun while it lasted.

Record reviews

Apropos of the last post, here are a few brief reviews of the mystery album auction haul.

Colour By Numbers: Still some great tunes, but not as strong as Kissing To Be Clever.

Love in Hawaii: That woman's voice is unexpectedly deep and strong, but her musical genre can only be described as Asian Wedding Party Karaoke Nightmare.

Mr Hammond: I don't care how many layers of irony you slather over this, it's intolerable. I wouldn't be at all shocked if it was included in that infamous Guantanamo Bay torture soundtrack.

Armenian Songs and Dances: "Jaunty", yes. Also: "unsettling".

And with two boxes to go, we've only just begun.
(Speaking of which, I fully expect to come across a Carpenters album at some point...)

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Auction aftermath

I never made it to the auction.
The thought of sitting (or, worse, standing) through an all-day sale was beyond me, but Mick went along.
Left to his own devices, he ended up buying seven lots.

We now have some things useful (we'll get a bedroom window out one of the lead-light panels) and not-so (yet more bowls).
But some of those $5 box lots – the full contents of which remained a mystery until we got them home – have yielded some happy surprises, in particular the 100+ records, most of which I presume comprised a good chunk of someone's classical music collection.
Plus some bizarre inclusions.

I've since had a major childhood flashback:


And personally I cannot wait to hear what this woman sounds like (all the songs are listed in what appears to be Japanese). She at least deserves commendation for both choice of headwear and use of soft-focus:


Klaus here promises to drown everything from Strangers In The Night to La Vie En Rose in Hammond cheese:


And how could this offering be anything less than jaunty?


Don't throw out those old record players, kids!

Update: I forgot to mention – the grizzly bear didn't reach its $12,000 reserve price and was passed in.
Next time...
Update #2: The lovely Colleen from Vickers & Hoad, the auctioneers, informs me the bear did sell – for $9,000. I reckon someone got a bargain.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

RIP the Artful Snaffler

Malcolm McLaren – so much to choose from!

I was saddened by the news, but what do you do, endlessly link to things to quantify your loss?

Uh huh. This is my favourite.

Friday, April 9, 2010

A grizzly affair

An old workmate, Monty, is in town to work on an auction being held tomorrow.
It's happening in what is usually an empty shopfront on High Street, down our end of town.
The space is now brimming with all sorts of fabulous business, from furniture to objets to impressive examples of taxidermy:


I know it's a bit creepy, but still, if I had the $18,000 estimate I'd be very tempted....
Among the offerings are some really good (potential) bargains, although I fear word has already spread.
I clocked (as in spotted, not headbutted, although the thought did cross my mind) two queens eyeing up the lots; just the tip of the antiquing iceberg, I'm sure.

In any case, we'll be there – registered bidder #154!

Update!
I hear there's some serious bikie interest in the bear.
This auction could manage to be both glamorous and threatening.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Maitland kicks "ass"

The battle against the Americanisation of Australian culture is a long and arduous one, so it's heartening to see local businesses dig in.

There is only one cinema in Maitland, which concentrates on mainstream fare (I'm not holding my breath for A Single Man), so inevitably it screens a lot of American movies.
But even a box-office behemoth like Kick-Ass can't stamp out its inherent Aussieness:


Keep fighting the good fight, Reading Cinemas!

PS: I have chosen to forgive the grammatical error in the movie title below it by presuming they don't possess any plastic apostrophes.

Pumpkins: going fast

The pumpkins have reached that awkward phase.
Mick's already handed out several to all the neighbours and they're still literally lining up:


One neighbour has been taking his down to the pub – presumably in return for beer – so it feels good to contribute to the local economy, but I kind of wish the thing would just die.
How many times can you foist a bloody great big pumpkin on someone without overstepping that friendly-neighbour boundary and entering pain-in-the-arse-with-all-the-fucking-pumpkins territory?

Also, the backyard's looking a little messy for my liking:


Anyway, my visions of a pumpkin invasion of Horseshoe Bend were naive, to say the least.