Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Statements of the obvious
They should do these in T-shirts, in order to let you know who to avoid walking behind at Woolies:
Rain, hail, waiting for sleet
The weather's been miserable. I love it.
We had an awesome hailstorm last week and have had several nights of lightning and thunder since.
Poor Suzi hasn't enjoyed it at all.
Still, this sort of weather brings out the critters, which have been strangely absent – or at least very discreet – so far this summer.
The current spiderwebs are pretty spectacular, especially when wet.
This was right outside our bedroom window last night:
This morning, it was gone.
How?
Do they pack them up? Eat them??
Spiders really do my head in.
Anyway, as for Suzi, she's getting used to the good life, to the point where she's mastered the sad-face – a truly unnerving, unflinching gaze indicating she wants food. Now.
Or she'll never stop staring at me.
Very passive-aggressive.
It's so cute though:
And highly effective.
We had an awesome hailstorm last week and have had several nights of lightning and thunder since.
Poor Suzi hasn't enjoyed it at all.
Still, this sort of weather brings out the critters, which have been strangely absent – or at least very discreet – so far this summer.
The current spiderwebs are pretty spectacular, especially when wet.
This was right outside our bedroom window last night:
This morning, it was gone.
How?
Do they pack them up? Eat them??
Spiders really do my head in.
Anyway, as for Suzi, she's getting used to the good life, to the point where she's mastered the sad-face – a truly unnerving, unflinching gaze indicating she wants food. Now.
Or she'll never stop staring at me.
Very passive-aggressive.
It's so cute though:
And highly effective.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Dim lights, small city
I know the previous update gave you the bleak reality of my life; here's how I've managed to avoid reality entirely. Or at least put it off for a while.
Feeling sad?
Feed a horse bread or carrots or apples – anything within reason:
You'll get over it instantly.
When unable to sleep, you can't go past The Love Boat in the middle of the night.
When it stars Betty White and Carol Channing?
Hold me down:
The power of nonsense should never be underestimated.
When feeling a tad despairing of life and Australian culture in general, I like to focus on young people in town with a genuine artistic bent, or at least the ability to render more than his/her name in Magic Marker:
That's been stencilled directly across the road from the grand campery of the Masonic Temple:
Call me childish, but that really cheers me up.
And when in doubt, check out your garden.
As for food this winter, I think we're fine:
Feeling sad?
Feed a horse bread or carrots or apples – anything within reason:
You'll get over it instantly.
When unable to sleep, you can't go past The Love Boat in the middle of the night.
When it stars Betty White and Carol Channing?
Hold me down:
The power of nonsense should never be underestimated.
When feeling a tad despairing of life and Australian culture in general, I like to focus on young people in town with a genuine artistic bent, or at least the ability to render more than his/her name in Magic Marker:
That's been stencilled directly across the road from the grand campery of the Masonic Temple:
Call me childish, but that really cheers me up.
And when in doubt, check out your garden.
As for food this winter, I think we're fine:
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Plus ça change...
Okay. Update.
I'm pretty much screwed; no doctor seems terribly optimistic about my outcome.
I do have chemo due early March though, so we'll soon see exactly how doomed I am.
Fun!
In the meantime, here's an overview of life as a hideously disfigured hermit in the Hunter Valley.
Again: Fun!
As the headline would suggest, the drive to Newcastle doctors really hasn't changed.
Especially Ossie the Mossie, who hasn't even bothered to ditch the hat since December:
Similarly, that wretched habit of vehicular ventriloquy shows no signs of abating.
If anything, it's worsened:
And you thought that was mindless (same car):
I wanted Mick to run this idiot woman off the road so much I almost popped a blood vessel.
Perhaps I should work on my anger issues.
I'm thinking of buying a crossbow...
I'm pretty much screwed; no doctor seems terribly optimistic about my outcome.
I do have chemo due early March though, so we'll soon see exactly how doomed I am.
Fun!
In the meantime, here's an overview of life as a hideously disfigured hermit in the Hunter Valley.
Again: Fun!
As the headline would suggest, the drive to Newcastle doctors really hasn't changed.
Especially Ossie the Mossie, who hasn't even bothered to ditch the hat since December:
Similarly, that wretched habit of vehicular ventriloquy shows no signs of abating.
If anything, it's worsened:
And you thought that was mindless (same car):
I wanted Mick to run this idiot woman off the road so much I almost popped a blood vessel.
Perhaps I should work on my anger issues.
I'm thinking of buying a crossbow...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Poor Shelley Winters
Another miracle on Australian TV.
They screened A Place in the Sun (1951) on the weekend:
A fabulous drama aided by the fact that Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift were at their most unspeakably glamorous:
Liz was a teenager.
Her best line?
"Tell mama... Tell mama all."
Sensational.
They screened A Place in the Sun (1951) on the weekend:
A fabulous drama aided by the fact that Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift were at their most unspeakably glamorous:
Liz was a teenager.
Her best line?
"Tell mama... Tell mama all."
Sensational.
The Coco Channel: He's a she!
Forgive me.
Due to the fact our new equine neighbour was always wearing a coat, I mistakenly identified Lofty (that's the real name; Mick ran into the owner) as male.
Au contraire.
Lofty just happens to be a very big-boned gal*:
She's actually slightly taller than Wiz, so I suppose the name fits, in an overly literal way.
Never mind, she's the consummate model.
The hair-flick:
The all-important "I eat, too" shot:
She's a natural.
Coco is pissed.
* k d lang knows all about it:
Due to the fact our new equine neighbour was always wearing a coat, I mistakenly identified Lofty (that's the real name; Mick ran into the owner) as male.
Au contraire.
Lofty just happens to be a very big-boned gal*:
She's actually slightly taller than Wiz, so I suppose the name fits, in an overly literal way.
Never mind, she's the consummate model.
The hair-flick:
The all-important "I eat, too" shot:
She's a natural.
Coco is pissed.
* k d lang knows all about it:
Dickheads and slappers and hoons, oh my!
A pictorial of our normally sleepy street over the past few weeks, i.e. why I hate summer:
No, I don't know what the body paint is about, although I suspect the letters spelt the name of an overpaid, overweight, peroxided cricketer at one point.
It's that time of year.
There's no place like Oz
I've only just recovered from the intoxicating wave of patriotic fervour over the Australia Day long weekend.
I was pissing green-and-gold all over this wide, brown land along with all the other proud Aussies and I have never felt more validated as a human being. Especially when telling someone who wasn't nearly as Anglo-pure as myself that "I grew here!"
In truth, I avoided all contact with anyone wielding a Southern Cross in any form.
I did, however, capture a glorious sunrise:
By the way, the fucking cancer is back. Somehow I'm not surprised.
Looks like more chemo is the only way to go.
Oi oi vey.
I was pissing green-and-gold all over this wide, brown land along with all the other proud Aussies and I have never felt more validated as a human being. Especially when telling someone who wasn't nearly as Anglo-pure as myself that "I grew here!"
In truth, I avoided all contact with anyone wielding a Southern Cross in any form.
I did, however, capture a glorious sunrise:
By the way, the fucking cancer is back. Somehow I'm not surprised.
Looks like more chemo is the only way to go.
Oi oi vey.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Suzi, action dog
It's always important to project an air of enthusiastic exertion, even if only in one's choice of venue:
Similarly, when returned home, pose attractively and emit a sigh of exhausted self-satisfaction:
Demand food.
Similarly, when returned home, pose attractively and emit a sigh of exhausted self-satisfaction:
Demand food.
The Coco Channel: Who the hell is this?
The horses have a new arrival.
He's chestnut, which I presume translates as ginger in the horse world.
Here they are last week, managing to get along – warily – in the face of new carrots:
The semblance of harmony was short-lived, however.
Coco, in particular, has shown her true colours and has rejected him.
Anyway, this new neighbour – given his white feet, we're hedging our bets and calling him Socks – is hanging in there and doing his best to fit in. He's a little timid for his own good, unfortunately.
He could literally be starved for attention by the end of the month...
He's chestnut, which I presume translates as ginger in the horse world.
Here they are last week, managing to get along – warily – in the face of new carrots:
The semblance of harmony was short-lived, however.
Coco, in particular, has shown her true colours and has rejected him.
Just quietly, they're not becoming on her – she turns, I tell you.
Here's an abstract of what I assure you was not a pretty sight:
Anyway, this new neighbour – given his white feet, we're hedging our bets and calling him Socks – is hanging in there and doing his best to fit in. He's a little timid for his own good, unfortunately.
He could literally be starved for attention by the end of the month...
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Back on track
I've managed to crawl out of my slump, sort of. I think.
In this spirit, I share this:
Via The Antipodean Homo, who says this is Nadine Strittmatter standing up for fashion at Christian Dior.
In this spirit, I share this:
Via The Antipodean Homo, who says this is Nadine Strittmatter standing up for fashion at Christian Dior.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
NYE Horseshoe Bend
Okay, so that was just the 9pm fireworks, but given Suzi's reaction – a sprint to the backyard, where she barked furiously in every direction until I corralled her – I think I'll forgo a trip to the riverside to watch the midnight event.
Besides, You Can't Stop the Music is on Channel 9!
Poor me a drink
While Googling for details on what creative director Marc Newson has in store for Sydney tonight, I found this beauty, courtesy of The Australian:
I'm glad we decided to avoid the riff-raff.
I'm glad we decided to avoid the riff-raff.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Setting of the sunflowers (this time for sure)
Mick and I have been hesitant to yank out the sunflowers, but they're now looking a bit like something you might find in the backyard of the American Horror Story house:
In any case, it's time for them to make way; the pumpkin plant is on the march once again:
In any case, it's time for them to make way; the pumpkin plant is on the march once again:
Woo. Uh... Hoo.
The so-called festive season is almost over (thank Christ!), just the colossal waste of money that is NYE fireworks to go.
I was a little gobsmacked at how elaborate they were up here last year. I honestly don't know why they bother.
Anyway, I may or may not venture to the river to watch them.
Somehow I think I'll be in front of the tele instead (click for personal light spectacular):
Happy etc.
I was a little gobsmacked at how elaborate they were up here last year. I honestly don't know why they bother.
Anyway, I may or may not venture to the river to watch them.
Somehow I think I'll be in front of the tele instead (click for personal light spectacular):
Happy etc.
The perils of Pauline, or There goes the neighbourhood
Mick came home from the Metro on Wednesday night with a horrifying piece of town gossip:
Pauline Hanson, the failed politician who appealed to the dumb bigot in everyone, has supposedly bought my favourite pub-turned-antiques store, the old Tooths Exchange Hotel:
Galling: that she allegedly paid only $440,000 for it.
Even worse: she wants to turn it into a wine bar.
Or woin bar. With chips!
If she continues with her recent string of reality TV-driven attempts at image rehabilitation and tries to turn this venture into a series of camera-friendly mishaps and meltdowns, I may have to call upon Pauline Pantsdown to stage an intervention:
Pauline Hanson, the failed politician who appealed to the dumb bigot in everyone, has supposedly bought my favourite pub-turned-antiques store, the old Tooths Exchange Hotel:
Galling: that she allegedly paid only $440,000 for it.
Even worse: she wants to turn it into a wine bar.
Or woin bar. With chips!
If she continues with her recent string of reality TV-driven attempts at image rehabilitation and tries to turn this venture into a series of camera-friendly mishaps and meltdowns, I may have to call upon Pauline Pantsdown to stage an intervention:
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Suzi: The new fragrance
Mick and I took Suzi to the groomer yesterday.
It was just for a shampoo; the dog, bless her, really stank.
Mick had attempted to shower her, but it proved such an ordeal (she was so determined to avoid it, she managed, for the first time, to leap into the bed with me) that we took her to Raymond Terrace's Pet Parlour again.
Raymond Terrace is, shall we say, a less salubrious part of the lower Hunter Valley.
It's often mentioned in local news broadcasts: "Police caught the alleged suspects in ...", "The burnt-out vehicle was found in ...", etc.
Still, you pass some pretty scenery on the way:
Plus, they do a good, cheap doggy wash and Suzi now smells like a rose, as interpreted through one of those motion-triggered room fresheners.
She laid down in the car for most of the way home, perhaps in post-traumatic stress, so I didn't get a good photo of her.
She looks much the same, to be honest, so here's one I prepared earlier; just imagine her smelling a lot better:
It was just for a shampoo; the dog, bless her, really stank.
Mick had attempted to shower her, but it proved such an ordeal (she was so determined to avoid it, she managed, for the first time, to leap into the bed with me) that we took her to Raymond Terrace's Pet Parlour again.
Raymond Terrace is, shall we say, a less salubrious part of the lower Hunter Valley.
It's often mentioned in local news broadcasts: "Police caught the alleged suspects in ...", "The burnt-out vehicle was found in ...", etc.
Still, you pass some pretty scenery on the way:
Plus, they do a good, cheap doggy wash and Suzi now smells like a rose, as interpreted through one of those motion-triggered room fresheners.
She laid down in the car for most of the way home, perhaps in post-traumatic stress, so I didn't get a good photo of her.
She looks much the same, to be honest, so here's one I prepared earlier; just imagine her smelling a lot better:
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