Friday, August 27, 2010
Pity
Much like 'orange', or 'month', nothing rhymes with 'grimace'.
I ponder this only because Smile by Charlie Chaplin is one of my favourite songs.
I can't really smile since the surgery; I can only grimace.
Grimace used to be a McDonalds mascot.
What a thought.
I ponder this only because Smile by Charlie Chaplin is one of my favourite songs.
I can't really smile since the surgery; I can only grimace.
Grimace used to be a McDonalds mascot.
What a thought.
The impact of accessories
Mick, casual and as always inadvertently fashion-forward, watching the Rabbitohs beat Parramatta:
Carlton Mid-Strength stubbie holder from Canberra RSL; booties knitted by his mum.
Carlton Mid-Strength stubbie holder from Canberra RSL; booties knitted by his mum.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The last road trip
I had to make a quick trip to tidy up mum and dad's place before they get back from overseas. Mick was lovely and agreed to drive me there.
Unfortunately he had a mishap at the service station before we set off. He dropped a little plastic bottle of some sort of additive into the fuel tank.
Cue much swearing followed by some determined MacGyvering.
I was certain my duct-tape-on-the-end-of-a-stick would work, but no.
Ditto the stab-it-with-a-screwdriver approach.
We eventually gave up and I forgot all about it.
The drive into Sydney just keeps getting uglier – the Upper North Shore is looking more like Zetland every day. These vignettes whizzed by and summed it up perfectly:
As for the visit, it was a hit-and-run affair.
The return trip started off on an amusing note in Crows Nest:
... but it soured as soon as we hit the freeway:
In all, the car broke down four times, the last time within walking distance of home. The NRMA man who came to our assistance, when told of the errant plastic bottle trapped in the fuel tank, was kind enough not to laugh.
Mick has vowed never to drive me to Sydney again.
Unfortunately he had a mishap at the service station before we set off. He dropped a little plastic bottle of some sort of additive into the fuel tank.
Cue much swearing followed by some determined MacGyvering.
I was certain my duct-tape-on-the-end-of-a-stick would work, but no.
Ditto the stab-it-with-a-screwdriver approach.
We eventually gave up and I forgot all about it.
The drive into Sydney just keeps getting uglier – the Upper North Shore is looking more like Zetland every day. These vignettes whizzed by and summed it up perfectly:
As for the visit, it was a hit-and-run affair.
The return trip started off on an amusing note in Crows Nest:
... but it soured as soon as we hit the freeway:
In all, the car broke down four times, the last time within walking distance of home. The NRMA man who came to our assistance, when told of the errant plastic bottle trapped in the fuel tank, was kind enough not to laugh.
Mick has vowed never to drive me to Sydney again.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Reasons to despair
1) I found out that Blair can't visit right now because of doctor's orders regarding his replacement knee.
2) Tony Abbott is our new Prime Minister.
Wake me up when it's over.
UPDATE
Hung Parliament.
Far less exciting than it sounds.
2) Tony Abbott is our new Prime Minister.
Wake me up when it's over.
UPDATE
Hung Parliament.
Far less exciting than it sounds.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Countdown
Blair arrives in less than a week and I still don't have my teeth sorted.
I visited my dentist – Dr Pepper (shut up!) – today and he took a mould of my upper mouth.
Thanks to the combined effects of radiotherapy (no saliva) and surgery (no room), a full set of dentures is pretty much out of the question.
So I'm getting a stop-gap upper plate and slowly resigning myself to the fact that I will never rip into a steak like every true-blue Aussie should.
If only I was sturdier, then at least I could pretend I had my teeth knocked out in a tackle of some sort...
I visited my dentist – Dr Pepper (shut up!) – today and he took a mould of my upper mouth.
Thanks to the combined effects of radiotherapy (no saliva) and surgery (no room), a full set of dentures is pretty much out of the question.
So I'm getting a stop-gap upper plate and slowly resigning myself to the fact that I will never rip into a steak like every true-blue Aussie should.
If only I was sturdier, then at least I could pretend I had my teeth knocked out in a tackle of some sort...
Auction artefact #15: Madonna keyrings
Not that one.
I forgot all about these. They were in one of the box lots Mick bought:
I'd suggest they were leftovers from World Youth Day but then I'd upset Raymond. (No more cocks for me!)
Anyway, I kind of wish they were lenticular, but they have a pleasant low-key glitter effect nonetheless.
Now I just need to find 12 key-carrying Christians who don't already have enough kitsch...
I forgot all about these. They were in one of the box lots Mick bought:
I'd suggest they were leftovers from World Youth Day but then I'd upset Raymond. (No more cocks for me!)
Anyway, I kind of wish they were lenticular, but they have a pleasant low-key glitter effect nonetheless.
Now I just need to find 12 key-carrying Christians who don't already have enough kitsch...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
BiscuitWatch: Desperately seeking Biscuit
The horse owners cleared the paddock on the weekend and erected a shelter.
Finally, I thought, something to protect poor little Biscuit from getting soggy:
When the horses returned yesterday, however, I saw – with some distress, I might add – that only Wiz and Tuppence were there.
Where the hell have they put Biscuit and Buddy??
Today I dragged Mick along the riverbank to see if Biscuit and Buddy were in their old spot a few streets away.
Alas, it was empty, but at least the grass has had a chance to grow back:
I then decided to head off on my own, east this time.
I was heading deep into Gladiators territory and suddenly the contents of my pockets – a digital camera and a carrot – seemed deeply incriminating. Undaunted, though, I carried on.
Biscuit was going to get her afternoon treat if it killed me.
I hardly ever venture down this way, I have to say, but it is very pretty and a perfect candidate for picnic-spot, bikies notwithstanding:
Until you get to the point past which No Outsider May Tread, that is.
I think the "electric fence" sign is bullshit myself but I didn't want to test it out:
As I was taking that shot, I noticed two shirtless figures in the distance, within the Forbidden Zone.
They must be bikies!
I've stumbled upon a drug shipment! A body disposal!!
I was somewhat deflated to realise they were merely clearing away tree branches:
Still, a frisson is a frisson.
As for Biscuit and Buddy, I searched the upper portion of the neighbourhood, to no avail.
I have still have a few streets to go and there's also lots of grazing land at the very end of the road, so I haven't lost hope.
BiscuitWatch will be back.
UPDATE
Right after I pressed 'publish', Mick came in to tell me what happened to Biscuit and Buddy.
Their owner just told him that kids had been regularly tormenting them by throwing eggs and firing slingshots.
They've been sold to a farm in Gillieston Heights nearby.
I'm happy they'll be safe there but I'm very sad they're gone.
And I really hope I catch the next little shit carrying eggs.
This is the last photo I took of the four horses together:
Finally, I thought, something to protect poor little Biscuit from getting soggy:
When the horses returned yesterday, however, I saw – with some distress, I might add – that only Wiz and Tuppence were there.
Where the hell have they put Biscuit and Buddy??
Today I dragged Mick along the riverbank to see if Biscuit and Buddy were in their old spot a few streets away.
Alas, it was empty, but at least the grass has had a chance to grow back:
I then decided to head off on my own, east this time.
I was heading deep into Gladiators territory and suddenly the contents of my pockets – a digital camera and a carrot – seemed deeply incriminating. Undaunted, though, I carried on.
Biscuit was going to get her afternoon treat if it killed me.
I hardly ever venture down this way, I have to say, but it is very pretty and a perfect candidate for picnic-spot, bikies notwithstanding:
Until you get to the point past which No Outsider May Tread, that is.
I think the "electric fence" sign is bullshit myself but I didn't want to test it out:
As I was taking that shot, I noticed two shirtless figures in the distance, within the Forbidden Zone.
They must be bikies!
I've stumbled upon a drug shipment! A body disposal!!
I was somewhat deflated to realise they were merely clearing away tree branches:
Still, a frisson is a frisson.
As for Biscuit and Buddy, I searched the upper portion of the neighbourhood, to no avail.
I have still have a few streets to go and there's also lots of grazing land at the very end of the road, so I haven't lost hope.
BiscuitWatch will be back.
UPDATE
Right after I pressed 'publish', Mick came in to tell me what happened to Biscuit and Buddy.
Their owner just told him that kids had been regularly tormenting them by throwing eggs and firing slingshots.
They've been sold to a farm in Gillieston Heights nearby.
I'm happy they'll be safe there but I'm very sad they're gone.
And I really hope I catch the next little shit carrying eggs.
This is the last photo I took of the four horses together:
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Vote 1: Nutjob
The federal election is only a few days away, so the onslaught of political ads is almost over.
Julia Gillard, the childless atheist, doesn't believe in same-sex marriage.
The less said about her opponent the better.
The only bright spots are to be found in the ads for independents, who can always be relied upon to air the important issues.
Local hopeful and "best contestant" Josef Wiedenhorn is determined to make his stamp. I imagine his bold "dam all the rivers" proposal will be met with almost as much support as his call for compulsory national service.
Click to enlarge and see what Josef has in mind:
Julia Gillard, the childless atheist, doesn't believe in same-sex marriage.
The less said about her opponent the better.
The only bright spots are to be found in the ads for independents, who can always be relied upon to air the important issues.
Local hopeful and "best contestant" Josef Wiedenhorn is determined to make his stamp. I imagine his bold "dam all the rivers" proposal will be met with almost as much support as his call for compulsory national service.
Click to enlarge and see what Josef has in mind:
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
BiscuitWatch: Breakout!
The horses finally had enough on the weekend.
On Saturday afternoon, I looked out the living room window and noticed Buddy and Biscuit were outside their enclosure:
I figured the owners had at last taken pity on them and allowed them a grassy treat, but when I went outside to say hello I realised the horses had broken down the fence in a daring escape bid:
Mick attempted to corral them using that mutant carrot as a lure. Unfortunately, this backfired, with Wiz bolting off and leading the others into the main street.
At this point I had visions of poor little Biscuit being mown down by a phalanx of bikies, so I raced after them and found them in an empty lot across the road, happily gorging themselves.
I spent the next several minutes looking like a complete idiot trying to coax them back, using that strangely high-pitched, insistently friendly voice usually reserved for recalcitrant infants.
"Biscuit! Wiz! Time to come home! I'll give you an apple!!"
I even managed to get a hold of Buddy at one point, but trying to move him was like trying to budge a small vehicle.
Their owners eventually came to rescue them without any drama but the upshot of this incident was that the horses got to spend all Sunday in the paddock behind us stuffing their faces while the fence was being fixed.
At the risk of anthropomorphising again, I can't help but think Biscuit knew exactly what they were doing:
On Saturday afternoon, I looked out the living room window and noticed Buddy and Biscuit were outside their enclosure:
I figured the owners had at last taken pity on them and allowed them a grassy treat, but when I went outside to say hello I realised the horses had broken down the fence in a daring escape bid:
Mick attempted to corral them using that mutant carrot as a lure. Unfortunately, this backfired, with Wiz bolting off and leading the others into the main street.
At this point I had visions of poor little Biscuit being mown down by a phalanx of bikies, so I raced after them and found them in an empty lot across the road, happily gorging themselves.
I spent the next several minutes looking like a complete idiot trying to coax them back, using that strangely high-pitched, insistently friendly voice usually reserved for recalcitrant infants.
"Biscuit! Wiz! Time to come home! I'll give you an apple!!"
I even managed to get a hold of Buddy at one point, but trying to move him was like trying to budge a small vehicle.
Their owners eventually came to rescue them without any drama but the upshot of this incident was that the horses got to spend all Sunday in the paddock behind us stuffing their faces while the fence was being fixed.
At the risk of anthropomorphising again, I can't help but think Biscuit knew exactly what they were doing:
Animal acts
Last weekend was beautiful, weather-wise, although the sunshine and warm temperatures seemed to have a strange effect on the animals in the neighbourhood.
Take Nessie. She's a labrador who lives next door. I know this might sound harsh, but she is one dumb bitch:
She barks furiously at anything that moves and otherwise spends her days running around in circles. Every now and then a friend's dog comes to visit, another labrador called Richie. They appear to get along well, but Nessie seems to be confused in her affections.
I'm not sure whether she's giving him a not-so-subtle hint or a helpful demonstration but, as you can see, he seems completely unmoved by her overtures:
Monday, August 9, 2010
Totally dreamy
I'm serious about wanting to see Burlesque, but in a Showgirls, Glitter kind of way.
Inception, on the other hand, is genuinely brilliant. I just got home from watching it and what strikes me is not just how well Christopher Nolan captured that twisted dream-state visual logic, but that he had the wherewithal to cast Tom Hardy, who is possibly the sexiest actor I've seen in years.
Whenever Daniel Craig gets sick of playing James Bond I reckon they've found the next one:
Even better, the role requires him at one point (minor spoiler alert) to assume the form of Tom Berenger, who's been dragged out of retirement (or purgatory, whatever).
He's got a bit of a William Shatner thing happening these days, but still... hot:
No Wonder Twins episode had anything that good.
Inception, on the other hand, is genuinely brilliant. I just got home from watching it and what strikes me is not just how well Christopher Nolan captured that twisted dream-state visual logic, but that he had the wherewithal to cast Tom Hardy, who is possibly the sexiest actor I've seen in years.
Whenever Daniel Craig gets sick of playing James Bond I reckon they've found the next one:
Even better, the role requires him at one point (minor spoiler alert) to assume the form of Tom Berenger, who's been dragged out of retirement (or purgatory, whatever).
He's got a bit of a William Shatner thing happening these days, but still... hot:
No Wonder Twins episode had anything that good.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Christina. Cher. Burlesque.
I haven't seen Inception yet, but now I think I might wait for this instead:
Friday, August 6, 2010
Heirlooming disaster
I had a chuckle when I read in The Australian Magazine that the new haute cuisine is peasant food, which means carrots.
Heirloom carrots.
Well, la di frickin da.
Given the sheer volume of carrots the horses next door go through, Mick decided to plant some.
The first came out today.
Either Mick pulled it too early or he's developed some seriously well-hung mutant heirloom specimens:
Or maybe he just planted the seeds too close together.
Shut up!
Heirloom carrots.
Well, la di frickin da.
Given the sheer volume of carrots the horses next door go through, Mick decided to plant some.
The first came out today.
Either Mick pulled it too early or he's developed some seriously well-hung mutant heirloom specimens:
Or maybe he just planted the seeds too close together.
Shut up!
BiscuitWatch: All By Myself
I believe I've mentioned Biscuit's outsider status. It seems to be getting worse.
If anything she's drifted further apart.
First, she was the only one who didn't gaze wistfully at the yard next door as it was being mown yesterday:
Then she appeared utterly uninterested in today's lunch:
I figured it was because she was sick to death of hay, but even a trusty carrot left her cold:
And to think I was asking Mick if we could kidnap her and keep her under the house when we had that rainstorm...
If anything she's drifted further apart.
First, she was the only one who didn't gaze wistfully at the yard next door as it was being mown yesterday:
Then she appeared utterly uninterested in today's lunch:
I figured it was because she was sick to death of hay, but even a trusty carrot left her cold:
And to think I was asking Mick if we could kidnap her and keep her under the house when we had that rainstorm...
Auction artefact #14: Foldaway fan
The last auction wasn't as bountiful as previous affairs (word has got out; prices have gone up), but Mick came home with some good stuff, none of which we needed.
He scored a very nice radio cabinet and some kitchenalia (I believe that's the industry term) that all fit well in the house.
I fear we have reached the end of our decorating phase, however, and teeter on the brink of hoarding.
In any case, Mick also nabbed the collection of fans I asked him to bid on. I hadn't really looked at them properly during the viewing but I thought they might be cute for my nieces. As it turned out, they're just cheap tat, but I do love both the ingenious mechanism and heartbreakingly innocent packaging of this example:
He scored a very nice radio cabinet and some kitchenalia (I believe that's the industry term) that all fit well in the house.
I fear we have reached the end of our decorating phase, however, and teeter on the brink of hoarding.
In any case, Mick also nabbed the collection of fans I asked him to bid on. I hadn't really looked at them properly during the viewing but I thought they might be cute for my nieces. As it turned out, they're just cheap tat, but I do love both the ingenious mechanism and heartbreakingly innocent packaging of this example:
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Break over
Sorry for the disappearing act.
Technical glitch followed by hosting duties.
Little progress to report, I'm afraid, although we finally got to visit Dungog the other day, home of the burgeoning film festival:
About an hour's drive north, it's quaint, with very wide streets (and implausibly small houses):
Pity they don't know how to make coffee...
Anyway, back online, will post more soon.
Technical glitch followed by hosting duties.
Little progress to report, I'm afraid, although we finally got to visit Dungog the other day, home of the burgeoning film festival:
About an hour's drive north, it's quaint, with very wide streets (and implausibly small houses):
Pity they don't know how to make coffee...
Anyway, back online, will post more soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
