:: Saturday, April 30, 2005
Nasties
I hate kids.
I hate dogs that fart under your chair.
I hate going to a smorgasboard restaurant and no doggie bag.
I hate finishing the last beer in the pack. Even if it did take me two weeks to drink them all.
I hate a room being messed up again before I get a chance to finish it.
I hate kids (did I say that already?).
I hate swollen glands.
I hate having 10 different sensations happening on my body at once and none of them are pleasant.
I hate taking plates and cups and bloody cutlery out of the lounge twice a day.
I hate kids (is there an echo in here?).
I hate being the answering service for the Oldies upstairs.
I hate answering fullstop...
I really hate dogs farting under my chair.
Reading:Valley of the Dolls
Listening to:Steppenwolf
PS - I love the Moon, though. 
I hate dogs that fart under your chair.
I hate going to a smorgasboard restaurant and no doggie bag.
I hate finishing the last beer in the pack. Even if it did take me two weeks to drink them all.
I hate a room being messed up again before I get a chance to finish it.
I hate kids (did I say that already?).
I hate swollen glands.
I hate having 10 different sensations happening on my body at once and none of them are pleasant.
I hate taking plates and cups and bloody cutlery out of the lounge twice a day.
I hate kids (is there an echo in here?).
I hate being the answering service for the Oldies upstairs.
I hate answering fullstop...
I really hate dogs farting under my chair.
Reading:Valley of the Dolls
Listening to:Steppenwolf
PS - I love the Moon, though.
:: Friday, April 29, 2005
Citi Zen
Sometimes, just sometimes (ok, almost never) I wish I lived in a big city. Not a big city like Auckland (I have no desire to be a JAFA) but in an old city, old in memory if not in chronological age.
Not an old European city, they are in a league of their own and deserve an exclusive post, but maybe a big old American city like New York or New Orleans. Why? Cos things are boring here, that's why. I'd kill to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras.
We don't have interesting billboards, we don't have old, rundown buildings with ornate trim murmuring of a bygone grandeur. Our decrepitude is hidden behind modern facades designed to hide the visual pollution of an aging (quasi)edifice.
Translation: "the building are cheap and ugly crap"
I remember standing, many times, on the top floor of Bongard, just looking down on the CBD and visualising the contrast; the immaculate frontages of the buildings whose motley backages were so carefully hidden from all view - unless you happened to be standing on the top floor of the tallest building on the ridge above.
A fascade it truly is, two opposing faces joined by corrugated iron rooves sprouting air-con units and antenae.
But although Tauranga is only 150 odd years old, already most of our buildings have been torn down and replaced, or had their facades altered so much to "fit in" that the no longer carry even an echo of their former style. Maybe because we started so late, we jumped the whole permanence thing and went straight into expedient.
Devonport Rd
Ok, so we have some modern sculpture dotted about (not many though) and a few original buildings have been preserved (The Elms, Taiparoro, Maungawhare, the Post Office).
The Elms
But our downtown is boring, modern-looking in the cheapest way and thoroughly expedient. And I think this is our greatest crime - to modernise for today, redo it tomorrow, not preserve our yesterday.
I guess all cities face the same drive to modernise and if they are a big city, a decent amount of the old will hopefully survive. But when you are really a small town in comparison, you don't have to lose much to have lost it all.
To compensate, we end up with this stuff being erected...
Waka, The Strand
Grey St/Spring St corner.
BOPPoly Windermere campus (not actually in town, but hey).
They all carry some merit, but leave me cold just the same. The traditional Waka speaks of the warlike nature of the people who claim this land as their own, despite quite possibly NOT being the first inhabitants. The Blob on the corner of Spring St is, for me, a modernisation of the cultural symbolism of their past but still made of natural stone. The stainless steel tower at Windermere, whilst being extremely lovely to look at and to touch, is the ultimate modernisation of what we have come to expect, both in materials used and the method of fabrication.
Maoritanga is moving with the times.
But, meritorious as they all are, they speak nothing of the history of me, the 40 year old woman standing downtown taking pictures; a 6th generation, European extracted citizen of this town. One who knows where "home" is.
This is what tells me my history, 20 kilometres away in a quiet pocket of Oropi.
I can touch this. Shit, there's that tactile-dependency again :-)
I've been perusing this site, Satan's Laundry. It's a photoblog carrying images of major edifices and minor effluvia, signage, adornment and jetsam of big cities, real cities mostly around America.
Tauranga is too shallow and just doesn't quite cut it.
"My teddy likes purple, too" - UberZip
Not an old European city, they are in a league of their own and deserve an exclusive post, but maybe a big old American city like New York or New Orleans. Why? Cos things are boring here, that's why. I'd kill to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras.
We don't have interesting billboards, we don't have old, rundown buildings with ornate trim murmuring of a bygone grandeur. Our decrepitude is hidden behind modern facades designed to hide the visual pollution of an aging (quasi)edifice.
Translation: "the building are cheap and ugly crap"
I remember standing, many times, on the top floor of Bongard, just looking down on the CBD and visualising the contrast; the immaculate frontages of the buildings whose motley backages were so carefully hidden from all view - unless you happened to be standing on the top floor of the tallest building on the ridge above.
A fascade it truly is, two opposing faces joined by corrugated iron rooves sprouting air-con units and antenae.
But although Tauranga is only 150 odd years old, already most of our buildings have been torn down and replaced, or had their facades altered so much to "fit in" that the no longer carry even an echo of their former style. Maybe because we started so late, we jumped the whole permanence thing and went straight into expedient.
Devonport Rd
Ok, so we have some modern sculpture dotted about (not many though) and a few original buildings have been preserved (The Elms, Taiparoro, Maungawhare, the Post Office).
The Elms
But our downtown is boring, modern-looking in the cheapest way and thoroughly expedient. And I think this is our greatest crime - to modernise for today, redo it tomorrow, not preserve our yesterday.
I guess all cities face the same drive to modernise and if they are a big city, a decent amount of the old will hopefully survive. But when you are really a small town in comparison, you don't have to lose much to have lost it all.
To compensate, we end up with this stuff being erected...
Waka, The Strand
Grey St/Spring St corner.
BOPPoly Windermere campus (not actually in town, but hey).
They all carry some merit, but leave me cold just the same. The traditional Waka speaks of the warlike nature of the people who claim this land as their own, despite quite possibly NOT being the first inhabitants. The Blob on the corner of Spring St is, for me, a modernisation of the cultural symbolism of their past but still made of natural stone. The stainless steel tower at Windermere, whilst being extremely lovely to look at and to touch, is the ultimate modernisation of what we have come to expect, both in materials used and the method of fabrication.
Maoritanga is moving with the times.
But, meritorious as they all are, they speak nothing of the history of me, the 40 year old woman standing downtown taking pictures; a 6th generation, European extracted citizen of this town. One who knows where "home" is.
This is what tells me my history, 20 kilometres away in a quiet pocket of Oropi.
I can touch this. Shit, there's that tactile-dependency again :-)
I've been perusing this site, Satan's Laundry. It's a photoblog carrying images of major edifices and minor effluvia, signage, adornment and jetsam of big cities, real cities mostly around America.
Tauranga is too shallow and just doesn't quite cut it.
"My teddy likes purple, too" - UberZip
:: Thursday, April 28, 2005
Lulu of a cat
Loopy Lulu has chosen a new sleeping spot on the desk in my room.
It is official; she is a basket case.
I was thinking tonight how I would hate for Craig to denigrate himself like THESE poor pudgy pinups.
Especially the one for December. He must have spent some time in Australia, but God knows how he ended up on a Russian calendar.
PS - I like purple; I like purple; I like purple; I like purple; I bet you couldn't guess huh
When you look at what the colour purple is considered to represent, it's hardly surprising!
pur·ple (pûr'pəl) pronunciation
n.
1. Any of a group of colors with a hue between that of violet and red.
2. Cloth of a color between violet and red, formerly worn as a symbol of royalty or high office.
3. Imperial power; high rank: born to the purple.
4. Roman Catholic Church.
1. The rank or office of a cardinal.
2. The rank or office of a bishop.
adj.
1. Of the color purple.
2. Royal or imperial; regal.
3. Elaborate and ornate: purple prose.
Purple = sacred, royal, spiritual, auhority, creativity and has a special place in nature: lavender, orchid, lilac, violet, delicate flowers,precious.
Maybe I can do a Brian Tamariki er, Tamaki and find a flock to fleece... only MY Minions will wear black and purple robes when gaybashing on the steps of Parliament.
And I'll wear amethysts instead of diamonds (cos I hate diamonds) and drive a black Corvette instead of a Harley.
Cool. Yeah.
Wanna join?
It is official; she is a basket case.
I was thinking tonight how I would hate for Craig to denigrate himself like THESE poor pudgy pinups.
Especially the one for December. He must have spent some time in Australia, but God knows how he ended up on a Russian calendar.
PS - I like purple; I like purple; I like purple; I like purple; I bet you couldn't guess huh
When you look at what the colour purple is considered to represent, it's hardly surprising!
pur·ple (pûr'pəl) pronunciation
n.
1. Any of a group of colors with a hue between that of violet and red.
2. Cloth of a color between violet and red, formerly worn as a symbol of royalty or high office.
3. Imperial power; high rank: born to the purple.
4. Roman Catholic Church.
1. The rank or office of a cardinal.
2. The rank or office of a bishop.
adj.
1. Of the color purple.
2. Royal or imperial; regal.
3. Elaborate and ornate: purple prose.
Purple = sacred, royal, spiritual, auhority, creativity and has a special place in nature: lavender, orchid, lilac, violet, delicate flowers,precious.
Maybe I can do a Brian Tamariki er, Tamaki and find a flock to fleece... only MY Minions will wear black and purple robes when gaybashing on the steps of Parliament.
And I'll wear amethysts instead of diamonds (cos I hate diamonds) and drive a black Corvette instead of a Harley.
Cool. Yeah.
Wanna join?
:: Wednesday, April 27, 2005
The artiste pt dois
Remember a month or so ago I was wabbiting about the painting at the Mount that made me drown my feet in drool every time I saw it?
Well, we went for a cruise to the Mount today, the kids and I and this time I had the wit to take note of the artist and the name of the painting in question when I took the kids into the gallery to see it.
The painting is called "Ermita de Binisaida" by a Portugese painter named Puco Romeu.
This is my painting:
But wait, there's more!
There is a sister pic available to purchase online as well, called "Binisaida de sa Creueta":
Now all I gotta do is win a bigger lotto and I can buy these beauties and hang them on my wall...
...when I build a house befitting them, of course.
Well, we went for a cruise to the Mount today, the kids and I and this time I had the wit to take note of the artist and the name of the painting in question when I took the kids into the gallery to see it.
The painting is called "Ermita de Binisaida" by a Portugese painter named Puco Romeu.
This is my painting:
But wait, there's more!
There is a sister pic available to purchase online as well, called "Binisaida de sa Creueta":
Now all I gotta do is win a bigger lotto and I can buy these beauties and hang them on my wall...
...when I build a house befitting them, of course.
:: Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Road to nowhere
Do you know where you are going? Or are you just along for the ride? Do you know where you want to end up at? Do you feel a purpose to your existence? Is there anything you really, really want with all your heart despite knowing you will never have it? Are you driving down the same road as everyone else or are you off down your own little track?
Sometimes, I feel my life is like driving up to Dawson Falls on the Mountain of Mountains - Mt Egmont (sod off, it's Egmont not bloody Taranaki, ya wallies); all narrow and twisting and turning, overshadowed by the heavy bush, road dampened by the rain... quiet and lush in a way that says " you don't belong here, keep driving"... turn, twist, up and up with the promise of a fabulous view when you reach the Falls...
...and when you reach the Falls (if you reach the Falls, cos sometimes you can see where people left the road), you realise that this is still only the start; from here are many tracks that lead off from the carpark snaking their way up, and around the mountain leading climbers, trampers and casual strollers into the beautifully forbidding bush, always onwards, ever deeper.
I think at the summit lies a pure Heaven. It must be an epiphanistic moment to stand at the top of your world and look down on such as you have left behind.
My mother climbed Egmont in the late 1940's. She told me what it was like to climb, but she never told me how it felt to achieve. I wish I had been mature enough to ask. Of course, once you reach the pinnacle there's nowhere left to go but down.
You see, I don't know where I'm going and I don't know what I hope to achieve - but I do know that achieving nothing IS nothing and is a boring road, indeed. I find it all incredibly pointless, you know?
Just as some pieces of art talk to me, so too do some pieces music and some pieces of poetry. This is one of those pieces. To me, it says, "I don't have to take the same path as everyone else, I'm just going to see a lot of different things to them". And I am.
What does it say to you?
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost - 1916
Sometimes, I feel my life is like driving up to Dawson Falls on the Mountain of Mountains - Mt Egmont (sod off, it's Egmont not bloody Taranaki, ya wallies); all narrow and twisting and turning, overshadowed by the heavy bush, road dampened by the rain... quiet and lush in a way that says " you don't belong here, keep driving"... turn, twist, up and up with the promise of a fabulous view when you reach the Falls...
...and when you reach the Falls (if you reach the Falls, cos sometimes you can see where people left the road), you realise that this is still only the start; from here are many tracks that lead off from the carpark snaking their way up, and around the mountain leading climbers, trampers and casual strollers into the beautifully forbidding bush, always onwards, ever deeper.
I think at the summit lies a pure Heaven. It must be an epiphanistic moment to stand at the top of your world and look down on such as you have left behind.
My mother climbed Egmont in the late 1940's. She told me what it was like to climb, but she never told me how it felt to achieve. I wish I had been mature enough to ask. Of course, once you reach the pinnacle there's nowhere left to go but down.
You see, I don't know where I'm going and I don't know what I hope to achieve - but I do know that achieving nothing IS nothing and is a boring road, indeed. I find it all incredibly pointless, you know?
Just as some pieces of art talk to me, so too do some pieces music and some pieces of poetry. This is one of those pieces. To me, it says, "I don't have to take the same path as everyone else, I'm just going to see a lot of different things to them". And I am.
What does it say to you?
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost - 1916
:: Monday, April 25, 2005
Scary dogs, watching scary movies
as a full moon rides high overhead
"I used to be a werewolf, but I'm all right
nooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" - Jon Tocker.
:: Sunday, April 24, 2005
The devil inside
Childen are a pain in the arse. Seriously, they piss me right off.
We have been playing host for 2 nights to one of Heather's friends. Heather's friend seems a nice girl (if a trifle strange, but then she IS Heather's friend), not particularly clued up on aspects involving contributing to household chores, but in herself she has not been a major problem.
Nor has Heather. Ditto Adam.
However, put the three together and I could swear that we were hosting the Annual General Meeting of the local chapter of the Spawn of Satan Society (SSS for short) being held on the top of a large keg of gunpowder whilst some lunatic idly plays with the matches. All they have done since we picked J up is fight and abuse each other, whine and bitch and cry and moan and give me a fucking hard time.
Tonight has been the final straw - after running around after three untidy small people, cooking real meals involving standing at the bench longer than I'm able (including a huge roast pork dinner tonight, AND doing all the cleaning up afterwards), playing Judge, Jury and Executioner (hehe, I like that last one fer sure) Heather packed a hissy because I didn't feel I was able to drive into town and get a DVD to watch like I had suggested we do just yesterday.
I spat the dummy and went to bed, while H (under threat of burning) cleaned up all the clothes that the girls had thrown all over her room (the one I spent days cleaning just a few weeks ago) and then went to bed early, under her own steam, and Adam and J sat down and amicably watched TV together.
When I woke up, Ads was snoring in his sleeping bag in front of the TV, J was watching TV with the dogs and, after I put Adam to bed, we sat drinking Milo and watched the "The Haunting" and had a splendid time together.
I think there is hope for this kid; I might have to see if I can swap her for a pair of utter shits (can you tell it's school holidays, can ya, can ya, huh??).
Oh, and the movie? 10/10 for interior detailing and awesome exterior locations (Harlaxton College); 9/10 for excellent interior sets (mostly somewhere in the US of A); 7/10 for special effects (the bloody footsteps looked like Adam carrying the tomato sauce); 5/10 for interest (yawn, I wonder if I have email...); 1/10 for Catherine Zeta Jones attempting to act.
Sorry CZJ, you better stay married to Michael Douglas; one of you had to have some talent. Shame, you know cos when she was in "Darling Buds of May" she was very good, but IMO she ain't so good now. Mind you, if I was a bloke I'd probably be too busy drooling over her legs (and wishing I could clean it off) to even notice she was/wasn't acting so it really doesn't matter anyway, just as long as she stays away from doing chick flicks.
She ain't no Geena Davis OR Susan Sarandon.
This is Harlaxton College, the location used for the exterior shots (and one of the interior locations) construction of which began in 1834 (the building, not the sets).
Just one of several fabulous, intriguing, buildings used as a backdrop for a movie or TV show, like the Winchester House in California, used for Stephen King's "Rose Red" and Castle Howard in Yorkshire, used for "Brideshead Revisted".
Castle Howard.
The Winchester House
My castle is rather modest, in comparison...innit.
We have been playing host for 2 nights to one of Heather's friends. Heather's friend seems a nice girl (if a trifle strange, but then she IS Heather's friend), not particularly clued up on aspects involving contributing to household chores, but in herself she has not been a major problem.
Nor has Heather. Ditto Adam.
However, put the three together and I could swear that we were hosting the Annual General Meeting of the local chapter of the Spawn of Satan Society (SSS for short) being held on the top of a large keg of gunpowder whilst some lunatic idly plays with the matches. All they have done since we picked J up is fight and abuse each other, whine and bitch and cry and moan and give me a fucking hard time.
Tonight has been the final straw - after running around after three untidy small people, cooking real meals involving standing at the bench longer than I'm able (including a huge roast pork dinner tonight, AND doing all the cleaning up afterwards), playing Judge, Jury and Executioner (hehe, I like that last one fer sure) Heather packed a hissy because I didn't feel I was able to drive into town and get a DVD to watch like I had suggested we do just yesterday.
I spat the dummy and went to bed, while H (under threat of burning) cleaned up all the clothes that the girls had thrown all over her room (the one I spent days cleaning just a few weeks ago) and then went to bed early, under her own steam, and Adam and J sat down and amicably watched TV together.
When I woke up, Ads was snoring in his sleeping bag in front of the TV, J was watching TV with the dogs and, after I put Adam to bed, we sat drinking Milo and watched the "The Haunting" and had a splendid time together.
I think there is hope for this kid; I might have to see if I can swap her for a pair of utter shits (can you tell it's school holidays, can ya, can ya, huh??).
Oh, and the movie? 10/10 for interior detailing and awesome exterior locations (Harlaxton College); 9/10 for excellent interior sets (mostly somewhere in the US of A); 7/10 for special effects (the bloody footsteps looked like Adam carrying the tomato sauce); 5/10 for interest (yawn, I wonder if I have email...); 1/10 for Catherine Zeta Jones attempting to act.
Sorry CZJ, you better stay married to Michael Douglas; one of you had to have some talent. Shame, you know cos when she was in "Darling Buds of May" she was very good, but IMO she ain't so good now. Mind you, if I was a bloke I'd probably be too busy drooling over her legs (and wishing I could clean it off) to even notice she was/wasn't acting so it really doesn't matter anyway, just as long as she stays away from doing chick flicks.
She ain't no Geena Davis OR Susan Sarandon.
This is Harlaxton College, the location used for the exterior shots (and one of the interior locations) construction of which began in 1834 (the building, not the sets).
Just one of several fabulous, intriguing, buildings used as a backdrop for a movie or TV show, like the Winchester House in California, used for Stephen King's "Rose Red" and Castle Howard in Yorkshire, used for "Brideshead Revisted".
Castle Howard.
The Winchester House
My castle is rather modest, in comparison...innit.
:: Saturday, April 23, 2005
Tell me...
Why is toothpaste blue in the tube and white when you brush your teeth?
Why do I get red lights all the way down Cameron Rd when I'm running late and green ones when I'm already early?
Why is Murphy's Law called that when it's way older than Murphy himself and why take the piss out of the Irish anyway? We can do that for ourselves, thank you very much.
Why can the cat manage to go out the window, but can't come back in again? I mean, helloooooo, the window is still bloody open.
Why do the dogs wait until they are right under your chair or in the car before they fart their smelliest farts? Don't tell me it's cos they love us.
Why does the back-up battery in the alarm clock never actually work when the power goes out? And why does the power only seem to go out AFTER you have gone to sleep anyway?
Why do our kids treat us like we are as stupid as they are? I mean, it's not like we did that to OUR parents or anything...
Why is "truncate" such a long word, when abbreviating it to "shorten" or reducing it to cut would ax the time it took to write it by elephantine proportions? (You gotta be sharp at midnight to think that one up. Has anyone got a Band-Aid?)
WHY THE HELL DID I HAVE CHILDREN???
The answers to these questions (and others I haven't thought of yet) will not be published in the next rivetting installment of "What's in your lunchbox today?".
I'll give you another stupid pic to look at instead :-)
Why do I get red lights all the way down Cameron Rd when I'm running late and green ones when I'm already early?
Why is Murphy's Law called that when it's way older than Murphy himself and why take the piss out of the Irish anyway? We can do that for ourselves, thank you very much.
Why can the cat manage to go out the window, but can't come back in again? I mean, helloooooo, the window is still bloody open.
Why do the dogs wait until they are right under your chair or in the car before they fart their smelliest farts? Don't tell me it's cos they love us.
Why does the back-up battery in the alarm clock never actually work when the power goes out? And why does the power only seem to go out AFTER you have gone to sleep anyway?
Why do our kids treat us like we are as stupid as they are? I mean, it's not like we did that to OUR parents or anything...
Why is "truncate" such a long word, when abbreviating it to "shorten" or reducing it to cut would ax the time it took to write it by elephantine proportions? (You gotta be sharp at midnight to think that one up. Has anyone got a Band-Aid?)
WHY THE HELL DID I HAVE CHILDREN???
The answers to these questions (and others I haven't thought of yet) will not be published in the next rivetting installment of "What's in your lunchbox today?".
I'll give you another stupid pic to look at instead :-)
:: Friday, April 22, 2005
Diatribe
IMHO, TXT MGS SPEAK SUX!
Fuck I hate txt messaging speak. It's crap. Worse than that it's non-intellectual, non-sensical, unmitigated crap.
U c ppl, aL Ovr d net, sndN emails & participating n 4mz & writiN blogs & doin it n pseudo-language.
What? You didn't understand that? Sorry, I'll translate it back to real language.
You see people, all over the net sending emails and participating in forums and writing blogs and doing it in pseudo-language.
These same people (mostly of the younger generation) are fluent in txt, but can't spell real words to save their lives; are able to create complex txt messages with the flick of a thumb, but can't find the off button on the TV; can moan and whine about being hard up and unemployed but waste their money and hours of time on sending hundreds, sometimes thousands of messages a month, all saying the same dumb shit. And maybe, just maybe, if they had some adequate written language skills, perhaps they wouldn't be unemployed anyway. It's funny how employers sort of like their workers to at least be semi-literate...
Even the Vatican used a txt message to alert the media that good ol' JP was, as they spoke, banging on the Pearly Gates a'telling St Peter to let him in. Of course, with his accomodation and travel already fully booked, he might have sent Heaven a txt to say he was on his way.
Cellphones gave us a freedom to communicate wherever we happen to be, and from that freedom was created a monster that consumes a whole generation (or those of that generation whose mothers give in to the pitiful and oft heard wail "I need a cellphone"), and a method by which everyone's personal privacy is in peril from the new generation pxt phones. Now, anyone using a communal changing facility or even undressing in their own home can have their rudey bits splashed across the internet in all their glorious (im)perfections.
Even children; at the beach or at the pool, paedophiles must really love this new technology. Examination answers are only a txt away, thus reducing the potential validity of a qualification; people are txting whilst driving down the motorways. Did you wonder why that guy on the road the other day was weaving all over the place? Someone had just sent him a pxt of their blonde-goddess flatmate in the shower and he was having trouble driving with his chin.
See exactly what I mean - check out Rate my PXT. And then there is the blackmail aspect of it...
Nowhere is safe from the pxtVoyeur, the txtMonster, the txtSpammer or the txtVirus. Cellies catch diseases too, you know :-)
But looking on the bright side, I doubt your kids are as bad as this loser, who spends $280 a month on the 8,000 txts he sends - that's an average of one every 4 minutes during waking hours. He has reduced his usage from 15,000 txt/month. Makes you wonder how he keeps his job. Now he can get OOS from txting instead of wanking.
And the justification given by one guy as to why he likes txt so much? "the appeal of texting is the way he can convey information without the need for a drawn-out conversation".
I guess "real" conversation will be on the endangered list soon, too. Better go and have one quick, while there is still someone left who understands what it is.
Maybe, if you are really hard up, txt could also increase your chances of making a sexual connection... but you'd have to be pretty desperate to do this!
After that not-so-hot hottie, you can chill out if you go here to hear a very important message from this guy:
Sort of like a message in a bottle, isn't it?
Fuck I hate txt messaging speak. It's crap. Worse than that it's non-intellectual, non-sensical, unmitigated crap.
U c ppl, aL Ovr d net, sndN emails & participating n 4mz & writiN blogs & doin it n pseudo-language.
What? You didn't understand that? Sorry, I'll translate it back to real language.
You see people, all over the net sending emails and participating in forums and writing blogs and doing it in pseudo-language.
These same people (mostly of the younger generation) are fluent in txt, but can't spell real words to save their lives; are able to create complex txt messages with the flick of a thumb, but can't find the off button on the TV; can moan and whine about being hard up and unemployed but waste their money and hours of time on sending hundreds, sometimes thousands of messages a month, all saying the same dumb shit. And maybe, just maybe, if they had some adequate written language skills, perhaps they wouldn't be unemployed anyway. It's funny how employers sort of like their workers to at least be semi-literate...
Even the Vatican used a txt message to alert the media that good ol' JP was, as they spoke, banging on the Pearly Gates a'telling St Peter to let him in. Of course, with his accomodation and travel already fully booked, he might have sent Heaven a txt to say he was on his way.
Cellphones gave us a freedom to communicate wherever we happen to be, and from that freedom was created a monster that consumes a whole generation (or those of that generation whose mothers give in to the pitiful and oft heard wail "I need a cellphone"), and a method by which everyone's personal privacy is in peril from the new generation pxt phones. Now, anyone using a communal changing facility or even undressing in their own home can have their rudey bits splashed across the internet in all their glorious (im)perfections.
Even children; at the beach or at the pool, paedophiles must really love this new technology. Examination answers are only a txt away, thus reducing the potential validity of a qualification; people are txting whilst driving down the motorways. Did you wonder why that guy on the road the other day was weaving all over the place? Someone had just sent him a pxt of their blonde-goddess flatmate in the shower and he was having trouble driving with his chin.
See exactly what I mean - check out Rate my PXT. And then there is the blackmail aspect of it...
Nowhere is safe from the pxtVoyeur, the txtMonster, the txtSpammer or the txtVirus. Cellies catch diseases too, you know :-)
But looking on the bright side, I doubt your kids are as bad as this loser, who spends $280 a month on the 8,000 txts he sends - that's an average of one every 4 minutes during waking hours. He has reduced his usage from 15,000 txt/month. Makes you wonder how he keeps his job. Now he can get OOS from txting instead of wanking.
And the justification given by one guy as to why he likes txt so much? "the appeal of texting is the way he can convey information without the need for a drawn-out conversation".
I guess "real" conversation will be on the endangered list soon, too. Better go and have one quick, while there is still someone left who understands what it is.
Maybe, if you are really hard up, txt could also increase your chances of making a sexual connection... but you'd have to be pretty desperate to do this!
After that not-so-hot hottie, you can chill out if you go here to hear a very important message from this guy:
Sort of like a message in a bottle, isn't it?
:: Thursday, April 21, 2005
Pro-fession or con-fession?
Remember a few weeks ago I was bitching about someone nicking off with the company websites even though he never paid for them? Remember how I said he would be a cheap bugger and make new ones himself, with Publisher?
Guess who has started (but is yet to do anything recognisable as a website) replacing them with new sites made in... go on, bet you can't guess!
If I gave him a dollar, do you think he would buy a clue? Dumb shit sure needs one.
Three weeks after ceasing to work for him, with no goodbye, kiss my ass or thanks for the mammaries forthcoming, it would appear that I am not getting my shonky hardware replaced, nor am I going to see a cent of the (very) conservative $5K he theoretically owes me either. Neither am I getting an explanation, a "sorry I'm a complete lowlife" and obviously not even getting a "thank you for 5 years of diligence, loyalty, honesty and damned hard work on my behalf".
What I AM going to get is a little helping of revenge.
It's already in the mail. It's his birthday today, you see.
I'm starting to really dislike this new found vein of vindictiveness he has unearthed in me. I've never felt so hurt or this angry before. I never felt the need to use it before. Mind you, I'd never been so royally betrayed before, or been this sick and alone and struggling to cope.
I do so believe in justice, in all things. Can't beat a wee Biblical "Eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" - and some people are in more dire need of a good lesson than they were a good blowjob.
What a nasty, stressful, vicious cycle.
Bah.
It must be time to bury it. Really deep. Somehow there has to be a way out of the dark place to some healing and some hope. He's left me feeling worthless and empty, that there is no point trusting anyone. After all, if you can't trust your dearest friends, who can you trust?
"Revenge is a dish best server cold, with pepper to make it interesting and salt to rub into the wound".
Amen.
Now, what colour do you think I should paint my hallway?
"There are victories of the soul and spirit. Sometimes, even if you lose, you win."
Elie Wiesel
Guess who has started (but is yet to do anything recognisable as a website) replacing them with new sites made in... go on, bet you can't guess!
If I gave him a dollar, do you think he would buy a clue? Dumb shit sure needs one.
Three weeks after ceasing to work for him, with no goodbye, kiss my ass or thanks for the mammaries forthcoming, it would appear that I am not getting my shonky hardware replaced, nor am I going to see a cent of the (very) conservative $5K he theoretically owes me either. Neither am I getting an explanation, a "sorry I'm a complete lowlife" and obviously not even getting a "thank you for 5 years of diligence, loyalty, honesty and damned hard work on my behalf".
What I AM going to get is a little helping of revenge.
It's already in the mail. It's his birthday today, you see.
I'm starting to really dislike this new found vein of vindictiveness he has unearthed in me. I've never felt so hurt or this angry before. I never felt the need to use it before. Mind you, I'd never been so royally betrayed before, or been this sick and alone and struggling to cope.
I do so believe in justice, in all things. Can't beat a wee Biblical "Eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" - and some people are in more dire need of a good lesson than they were a good blowjob.
What a nasty, stressful, vicious cycle.
Bah.
It must be time to bury it. Really deep. Somehow there has to be a way out of the dark place to some healing and some hope. He's left me feeling worthless and empty, that there is no point trusting anyone. After all, if you can't trust your dearest friends, who can you trust?
"Revenge is a dish best server cold, with pepper to make it interesting and salt to rub into the wound".
Amen.
Now, what colour do you think I should paint my hallway?
"There are victories of the soul and spirit. Sometimes, even if you lose, you win."
Elie Wiesel
:: Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Big wheels rolling, movin on
Yesterday, Adam earned his first $$ in his chosen profession of Earthworks Man. Heather and Adam went up to the shops to visit the library. Adam got a digger book and Heather had her bike helmet nicked when they stopped at the $2 shop to spend their pocket money. Then Adam went roaming down a side street, ran into a man who lives near Ad's mate Andrew and this guy just happened to be at work, driving a truck removing soil from a building site. He asked Adam if he wanted to ride shotgun in the truck for the afternoon and Adam came rushing home to ask Mum, then rushed back up the hill to get to work.
When he came home at 5.30, he was hot, tired and happily clutching $5 in his hand - his "wages" for helping out and cleaning up after the truck wheels. Ok, so sweeping the road probably isn't really exciting for you and me, but for him it's his first steps to learning the trade. After all, every one has to start at the bottom and work up, if they want to be any good that is.
At least he didn't bring home a truckload of dirt like he did that truckload of woodchips...
Dayam, ya gotta love that boy, even if he does rather take after his mother.
When he came home at 5.30, he was hot, tired and happily clutching $5 in his hand - his "wages" for helping out and cleaning up after the truck wheels. Ok, so sweeping the road probably isn't really exciting for you and me, but for him it's his first steps to learning the trade. After all, every one has to start at the bottom and work up, if they want to be any good that is.
At least he didn't bring home a truckload of dirt like he did that truckload of woodchips...
Dayam, ya gotta love that boy, even if he does rather take after his mother.
:: Tuesday, April 19, 2005
'til it hurts
I stumbled upon a site that generates complex insults.
It's fucking brilliant.
Happy happy joy joy.
I mean, it doesn't get a lot better than "You wag your tail like your mother, you illiterate, pustule swallowing, penguin whacking, discognizant heir of an entomologist with carnal knowledge of cockroaches."
Does it?
I have soooooo crashed. I am dead in the water. This outstanding site has almost taken my mind off it. Do something else while you wait for it to load. It is so worth it.
It even comes as a screensaver at these guys home page.
"'Til your eyes are like mine
Master Po, Kung Fu"
It's fucking brilliant.
Happy happy joy joy.
I mean, it doesn't get a lot better than "You wag your tail like your mother, you illiterate, pustule swallowing, penguin whacking, discognizant heir of an entomologist with carnal knowledge of cockroaches."
Does it?
I have soooooo crashed. I am dead in the water. This outstanding site has almost taken my mind off it. Do something else while you wait for it to load. It is so worth it.
It even comes as a screensaver at these guys home page.
"'Til your eyes are like mine
Master Po, Kung Fu"
:: Monday, April 18, 2005
Rockin' all over the world
Today, April 18th is the 99th anniversary of the San Francisco earthquake. Recorded eye witness acounts at that link describe a scene of sheer terror and helplessness, broken and shattered buildings raining debris from the skies and vast chasms opening up in the ground, swallowing all that stood upon it at the time. The estimated 8.25 San Francisco rock and roll began at 5:15am and lasted one minute.
What a minute that must have been!
By the time the fires were all put out and mopping up was completed, 25,000 buildings had been destroyed, over 250,000 people were homeless, between 450 and 700 were dead and the damage estimates topped $350,000,000.
"The San Francisco Earthquake, 1906,
" EyeWitness to History, www.eyewitnesstohistory.com (1997)
And while San Francisco has survived many, many quakes since then, none have caused the loss of life and damage that one did in 1906.
June 13th 1929, Murchison in New Zealand was hit by a quake measuring 7.8 which killed 17 people. This occurred in a year that registered 678 quakes in all. Earthquakes on 9 March (Arthur's Pass) and 8 May (Central North Island) that year were felt across large areas of the country.
They don't call us the Shaky Isles for nothing, you know.
February 3 1931, Napier in Hawkes Bay, NZ was flattened by a quake measuring 7.8 on the Richter Scale. It occurred mid morning on a bright summer's day, the sort of day my mother (who spent her childhood in Hastings) always called "earthquake weather.
Damage was severe, the loss of life large - 256 were killed, 2 missing, over 400 hospitalised with serious injuries.
On March 2nd 1987, Edgecumbe in the Bay of Plenty was rocked by a quake measuring 6.3. I can remember this quake; 1.42 in the afternoon, standing on our front lawn watching the whole 2-storey house sway end for end like it was made from jelly and being carried on a plate.
Last Boxing Day brought a huge quake on the sea bed of the Indian Ocean - and the resulting loss of life is huge in comparison. I would think there are few people who have not seen the pictures of the tsunami that was generated by it, or heard of the estimated 350,000 people who died in the aftermath. Compared with some earthquakes in the past, though, this was not the worst - in 1556 an estimated 850,000 died in China, according to this site which lists the 10 worst quakes known. By no means did the majority of these quakes occur right on the Ring of Fire, but half did devastate China (and a little bit of China IS on the Pacific Ring).
Maybe quakes are just Nature's way of letting off steam as She matures into her shell - I think we forget that we live on a dynamic, changing planet with an estimated 4.5 Billion years of growth and change under its belt; we forget how truly ineffectual, microscopic and meaningless Mankind and his issues really are in the Great Scheme.
Happy Birthday, San Francisco - the foundations of your new city are 99 today.
What a minute that must have been!
By the time the fires were all put out and mopping up was completed, 25,000 buildings had been destroyed, over 250,000 people were homeless, between 450 and 700 were dead and the damage estimates topped $350,000,000.
"The San Francisco Earthquake, 1906,
" EyeWitness to History, www.eyewitnesstohistory.com (1997)
And while San Francisco has survived many, many quakes since then, none have caused the loss of life and damage that one did in 1906.
June 13th 1929, Murchison in New Zealand was hit by a quake measuring 7.8 which killed 17 people. This occurred in a year that registered 678 quakes in all. Earthquakes on 9 March (Arthur's Pass) and 8 May (Central North Island) that year were felt across large areas of the country.
They don't call us the Shaky Isles for nothing, you know.
February 3 1931, Napier in Hawkes Bay, NZ was flattened by a quake measuring 7.8 on the Richter Scale. It occurred mid morning on a bright summer's day, the sort of day my mother (who spent her childhood in Hastings) always called "earthquake weather.
Damage was severe, the loss of life large - 256 were killed, 2 missing, over 400 hospitalised with serious injuries.
On March 2nd 1987, Edgecumbe in the Bay of Plenty was rocked by a quake measuring 6.3. I can remember this quake; 1.42 in the afternoon, standing on our front lawn watching the whole 2-storey house sway end for end like it was made from jelly and being carried on a plate.
Last Boxing Day brought a huge quake on the sea bed of the Indian Ocean - and the resulting loss of life is huge in comparison. I would think there are few people who have not seen the pictures of the tsunami that was generated by it, or heard of the estimated 350,000 people who died in the aftermath. Compared with some earthquakes in the past, though, this was not the worst - in 1556 an estimated 850,000 died in China, according to this site which lists the 10 worst quakes known. By no means did the majority of these quakes occur right on the Ring of Fire, but half did devastate China (and a little bit of China IS on the Pacific Ring).
Maybe quakes are just Nature's way of letting off steam as She matures into her shell - I think we forget that we live on a dynamic, changing planet with an estimated 4.5 Billion years of growth and change under its belt; we forget how truly ineffectual, microscopic and meaningless Mankind and his issues really are in the Great Scheme.
Happy Birthday, San Francisco - the foundations of your new city are 99 today.
:: Sunday, April 17, 2005
Wendy's, Wendy's, YUM
Get your prime chili fingers at Wendy's today - sales are down so I guess the queues are as well.
I've heard of fast food, but not light-fingered fast food:
"16/04/2005
Reuters
Wendy's International has doubled the reward to US$100,000 it is offering for information on the origin of a human finger found last month in a bowl of chili at one of its restaurants.
In a statement, Wendy's President and Chief Operating Officer Tom Mueller said the company's franchisees and employees have "done nothing wrong, yet they are paying a severe price with sales down significantly" in the San Jose, California, area where the incident occurred." more...
And hey, if KFC (Kentucky Fried Cockroach) in Auckland can dish up exciting new dishes, I don't see why this company can't go one better.
It does give a whole new meaning to "I'd give my right arm for a bowl of Wendy's chili", though. What they might be putting in their chilidogs gives me paws for thought, too.
OK so it's a hoax. But there's someone out there missing a digit; is it you?
I've heard of fast food, but not light-fingered fast food:
"16/04/2005
Reuters
Wendy's International has doubled the reward to US$100,000 it is offering for information on the origin of a human finger found last month in a bowl of chili at one of its restaurants.
In a statement, Wendy's President and Chief Operating Officer Tom Mueller said the company's franchisees and employees have "done nothing wrong, yet they are paying a severe price with sales down significantly" in the San Jose, California, area where the incident occurred." more...
And hey, if KFC (Kentucky Fried Cockroach) in Auckland can dish up exciting new dishes, I don't see why this company can't go one better.
It does give a whole new meaning to "I'd give my right arm for a bowl of Wendy's chili", though. What they might be putting in their chilidogs gives me paws for thought, too.
OK so it's a hoax. But there's someone out there missing a digit; is it you?
:: Saturday, April 16, 2005
Paying the price
We won Lotto tonight - 2 x 5th Division. That's about $60 to add to the kids Oz Holiday Fund. Well, it's a good chunk of the cost of their passports, anyway.
Here are some more pics to make you go hmmm...
They made 'em smaller 2000 years ago - this one is only 1 3/8 inches long (that's a BIIIIG 3.5cm...ho hum). Hang on, I nearly had a bloke once who was only a couple of inches long. Of course, the strange looking but incredibly well endowed and very handy Andy made up for that more than 4 times over - truly OMG material
The Egyptians were really big on really small phalluses...you can buy this one for $US800.
I guess you gotta hang around for this one here. Do you know what it is, though? Can you see yourself using it? Does anybody give a fuck? Those whistling carrots back on April Fool's Day might have done. Personally, I prefer mine on the level, Neville.
I think this must be for people who like to keep their distance. Ive heard of feeling a little prick, but over 30 of 'em? Around the neck?? Isn't that being a little, well, greedy?
And then there is this... not quite sure who it's meant for. I mean, if you already have one that you can lay your hands on to use as a mould, why do you need a clone... and if you don't have one handy, how can you make one from this anyway?
Huh? Huh???
I'm not really walking. Well, in my head I am, but when I actually stand up and do it, let's just say all the best intentions in the world can't make my legs support me and walk where I want to go without a big fuss. And a lot of bitching. Just one of the costs of doing too much last week.
Such is life.
Im having a flare up, one the likes of which I haven't had in a long time. My jaw and teeth hurt, like they are clenched hard. My hips are stiff and my legs are weak and sore if I stand on them, and I hurt when I lie in bed.
I'm paying the price of trying to live like real people. The currency is Weakness. What are you once minor trivialities become major triumphs?
Some days, I don't like MS very much.
Here are some more pics to make you go hmmm...
They made 'em smaller 2000 years ago - this one is only 1 3/8 inches long (that's a BIIIIG 3.5cm...ho hum). Hang on, I nearly had a bloke once who was only a couple of inches long. Of course, the strange looking but incredibly well endowed and very handy Andy made up for that more than 4 times over - truly OMG material
The Egyptians were really big on really small phalluses...you can buy this one for $US800.
I guess you gotta hang around for this one here. Do you know what it is, though? Can you see yourself using it? Does anybody give a fuck? Those whistling carrots back on April Fool's Day might have done. Personally, I prefer mine on the level, Neville.
I think this must be for people who like to keep their distance. Ive heard of feeling a little prick, but over 30 of 'em? Around the neck?? Isn't that being a little, well, greedy?
And then there is this... not quite sure who it's meant for. I mean, if you already have one that you can lay your hands on to use as a mould, why do you need a clone... and if you don't have one handy, how can you make one from this anyway?
Huh? Huh???
I'm not really walking. Well, in my head I am, but when I actually stand up and do it, let's just say all the best intentions in the world can't make my legs support me and walk where I want to go without a big fuss. And a lot of bitching. Just one of the costs of doing too much last week.
Such is life.
Im having a flare up, one the likes of which I haven't had in a long time. My jaw and teeth hurt, like they are clenched hard. My hips are stiff and my legs are weak and sore if I stand on them, and I hurt when I lie in bed.
I'm paying the price of trying to live like real people. The currency is Weakness. What are you once minor trivialities become major triumphs?
Some days, I don't like MS very much.
:: Friday, April 15, 2005
Magpies rule
Look what I found when I was tidying up:
It's my ticket stub from the 1989 "Love Town" tour - the great U2 and BB King.
That really was some concert.
We spent the final 30 minutes sitting out in the trees just outside Western Springs in a light fog all backlit by the stadium lights with 15 other people, handing around a joint (or 10). The acoustics outside were MUCH better than the sound quality inside.
Absolutely magik.
I wish I hadn't lost the stub from my ticket to the Eagles "Hell Freezes Over" tour concert in November 1994. That concert was magik, too.
"You got to cry without weeping, talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice..."
Running to stand still - U2
It's my ticket stub from the 1989 "Love Town" tour - the great U2 and BB King.
That really was some concert.
We spent the final 30 minutes sitting out in the trees just outside Western Springs in a light fog all backlit by the stadium lights with 15 other people, handing around a joint (or 10). The acoustics outside were MUCH better than the sound quality inside.
Absolutely magik.
I wish I hadn't lost the stub from my ticket to the Eagles "Hell Freezes Over" tour concert in November 1994. That concert was magik, too.
"You got to cry without weeping, talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice..."
Running to stand still - U2
:: Thursday, April 14, 2005
The bad taste post
Doing shitloads of housework is in poor taste. Especially when you are already way into physical deficit. Adam dumped some extra work on me today with the discovery of a nest of newborn rodents in his bottom drawer. So I went looking for more but didn't find any, though I cleaned the rest of his room while I was there. Stupid woman.
This, too is in very poor taste.
Looks funny, though.
Everyone loves to say "ewwwwwwww, gross, that is in such bad taste" at things they find unpalatable or strange, yet they don't even have it in their mouths so what are they tasting?
Is there anyone has never been to a "bad taste" party? That reminds me of that really old joke:
If you have nuts on your chest, what have you got? Chestnuts.
And If you have nuts on your wall, what have you got? Walnuts.
And If you have nuts on your chin, what have you got? A cock in your mouth, of course.
I guess if you are up to your nuts in a Brazilian then you are probably a bit busy right now.
Now THAT is in bad taste.
Peter Jackson has specialised in things that taste bad. Some of his movies have been very bad taste - not excluding his 1988 movie "Bad Taste". I mean, some of the things they ate were really off, you know?
I didn't like it. I didn't like watching it at 10 o'clock on a Sunday morning after a night in Simon's horribly uncomfortable bed. It wasn't even the bed that was supposed to be hard, you know? But it was a damn sight more rigid than he was. Very poor form.
I didn't enjoy "Brain Dead", never saw "Heavenly Creatures", wasn't grabbed by "Meet the Feebles", either.
Besides, I still hadn't forgotten Forgotten Silver in 1995. Bastard.
But he gained back some karma with "The Frighteners" in 1996, and all but repaired the rift with the tremendous, stupendous LOTR. What I wouldn't like to do with Legolas' ears clasped one in each hand... whilst still attached to him, stupid.
Is there a deja vu in the room? This is worse than groundhog Day - I am sure I have blogged something like this before...
Shit, does that mean I have reached the end of my blogging career and will now simply reprise my fabulous collection of inane ramblings, aka The MS Chronicles, ad nauseum, ad infinitum, ad crematorium?
Nah, that would be in really bad taste.
Even more bad taste:
Q: If you have a green ball in one hand and a green ball in the other, what do you have?
A: The undivided attention of the Jolly Green Giant.
It's 10.45 PM and I'm knackered - I'm going to bed now before I have nightmares thinking about this:
"Did I disappoint you or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love and you want me to go without..."
U2 - One
This, too is in very poor taste.
Looks funny, though.
Everyone loves to say "ewwwwwwww, gross, that is in such bad taste" at things they find unpalatable or strange, yet they don't even have it in their mouths so what are they tasting?
Is there anyone has never been to a "bad taste" party? That reminds me of that really old joke:
If you have nuts on your chest, what have you got? Chestnuts.
And If you have nuts on your wall, what have you got? Walnuts.
And If you have nuts on your chin, what have you got? A cock in your mouth, of course.
I guess if you are up to your nuts in a Brazilian then you are probably a bit busy right now.
Now THAT is in bad taste.
Peter Jackson has specialised in things that taste bad. Some of his movies have been very bad taste - not excluding his 1988 movie "Bad Taste". I mean, some of the things they ate were really off, you know?
I didn't like it. I didn't like watching it at 10 o'clock on a Sunday morning after a night in Simon's horribly uncomfortable bed. It wasn't even the bed that was supposed to be hard, you know? But it was a damn sight more rigid than he was. Very poor form.
I didn't enjoy "Brain Dead", never saw "Heavenly Creatures", wasn't grabbed by "Meet the Feebles", either.
Besides, I still hadn't forgotten Forgotten Silver in 1995. Bastard.
But he gained back some karma with "The Frighteners" in 1996, and all but repaired the rift with the tremendous, stupendous LOTR. What I wouldn't like to do with Legolas' ears clasped one in each hand... whilst still attached to him, stupid.
Is there a deja vu in the room? This is worse than groundhog Day - I am sure I have blogged something like this before...
Shit, does that mean I have reached the end of my blogging career and will now simply reprise my fabulous collection of inane ramblings, aka The MS Chronicles, ad nauseum, ad infinitum, ad crematorium?
Nah, that would be in really bad taste.
Even more bad taste:
Q: If you have a green ball in one hand and a green ball in the other, what do you have?
A: The undivided attention of the Jolly Green Giant.
It's 10.45 PM and I'm knackered - I'm going to bed now before I have nightmares thinking about this:
"Did I disappoint you or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love and you want me to go without..."
U2 - One
:: Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Just one of those things
Housework is one of those things that most people love to hate. There is nothing particularly satisfying about cleaning. The trouble is that while you spend your life regretting the need to do housework at the expense of pursuing activities you do enjoy, it's simply another looping chore (especially when the kids can mess it up faster than you can tidy it up) and once you are no longer able to physically cope with the job, then you would give your right arm to be able to do it.
And that goes for just about anything, really.
We blew a lightbulb in the laundry last week, and every time I went in there and needed to use it, Adam was asleep and I couldn't get on the chair to change it. Finally, I remembered in time the other night, but the bulb was old and separated from the cap and came apart with some of it still in the socket. It was so badly stuck in there that Reg had to come down and change it for me - and managed to rip the whole fitting out of the ceiling whilst attempting to do it.
The minor chore became the major mission.
I hate that.
grrrrrrrr
Irie has been helping me prune (ok destroy) my garden back into shape. A couple of months or so ago, we started the driveway gardens. Yesterday we completed weeding, laying plastic and spreading Adam's woodchips on it and rebuilt the garden wall. Well, she mostly did - I sat and did my supervisor bit and got growled at every time I moved.
Today, we've done the big garden under the kitchen and dining room windows, removed the ivy and the fatsias, dealt to the convulvulous and the wandering jew, even moved all Reg's junk into a tidy pile somewhere else. No wonder I'm shattered, and I only did a little bit of it (but there is something inherently enjoyable about annihilating ivy from house walls. Maybe it's the destructive aspect I love).
I'm also 3/4 of the way through the spring cleaning, thanks to Heather's missing jersey. Did you know, spending 2 hours sitting and crawling around on the floor to tidy up and vacuum the back hallway is not only vastly over-rated, but leg-numbingly immobilising as well?
So why the Hell didn't you tell me?
Now I'm off to clear the boxes of computer bits and junk in the laundry - then we can fire the big rubbish pile next week.
Nothing like a good burn off to really bring the "primal self" out in one, hmmm? I promise I will take a pic for ya :-)
And that goes for just about anything, really.
We blew a lightbulb in the laundry last week, and every time I went in there and needed to use it, Adam was asleep and I couldn't get on the chair to change it. Finally, I remembered in time the other night, but the bulb was old and separated from the cap and came apart with some of it still in the socket. It was so badly stuck in there that Reg had to come down and change it for me - and managed to rip the whole fitting out of the ceiling whilst attempting to do it.
The minor chore became the major mission.
I hate that.
grrrrrrrr
Irie has been helping me prune (ok destroy) my garden back into shape. A couple of months or so ago, we started the driveway gardens. Yesterday we completed weeding, laying plastic and spreading Adam's woodchips on it and rebuilt the garden wall. Well, she mostly did - I sat and did my supervisor bit and got growled at every time I moved.
Today, we've done the big garden under the kitchen and dining room windows, removed the ivy and the fatsias, dealt to the convulvulous and the wandering jew, even moved all Reg's junk into a tidy pile somewhere else. No wonder I'm shattered, and I only did a little bit of it (but there is something inherently enjoyable about annihilating ivy from house walls. Maybe it's the destructive aspect I love).
I'm also 3/4 of the way through the spring cleaning, thanks to Heather's missing jersey. Did you know, spending 2 hours sitting and crawling around on the floor to tidy up and vacuum the back hallway is not only vastly over-rated, but leg-numbingly immobilising as well?
So why the Hell didn't you tell me?
Now I'm off to clear the boxes of computer bits and junk in the laundry - then we can fire the big rubbish pile next week.
Nothing like a good burn off to really bring the "primal self" out in one, hmmm? I promise I will take a pic for ya :-)
:: Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Stumbling, to a complete stop
I stumbled on a marvellous site tonight, and at this rate I might never stumble anywhere else ever again.
It's Project Gutenberg.
This has got to be the epitome of the answer to the online bibliophiles question of "I wonder where I can get a copy of "Apocolocyntosis" by Lucius Annaeus Seneca; "Les aventures de M. Colin-Tampon" by Jules Girardin, or even Homer's "Odyssey" (Homer as in Greek, not Simpson, do try harder).
You can start small with the Top 100 Titles and Authors and work your way up if you don't think you are up to the excitement your first time.
One of my earliest pieces of classical reading was a seventh century B.C history book called "The Odyssey" by the Greek author Homer. It's a wee yarn about the brilliant and sexy, yet prideful muscleman Odysseus, a real man's man who has seen Troy ransacked and burnt to the ground and the troubles he met taking the long way home from the war; among them a chick having a really bad-hair day (even before she met her Perseus); an enchantresss who thought all men were swine (and they were, when she had finished with them), and a really one-eyed troglodyte called Polyphemus who had a thing for sheep.
Well, anyway, when I was a teenager I used to have a Reader's Digest Special Edition which incuded The Odyssey in it, and I read it many times. I had managed not to lose it for years, but was thinking a few weeks ago that I hadn't seen it in a very long time and started searching for a new copy to replace it. I think Heather should read it - might have to wait until after she finished "Trinity" by Leon Uris.
Anyway, I spent Sunday cleaning up Heather's room, an unbelievable marathon taking 6 hours, 7 loads of washing and 8 bags of rubbish (for a break I pushed the go-kart around the paddock and dug the side off the mound of woodchips to get the go-kart back in the gate, after first attempting to lift and carry the damn thing over the pile) but did not find her missing school uniform jersey which was the reason I even dared to set a foot in her door in the first place. There are some places no sane woman goes and a 14 year old's bedroom is one of them.
In other words, I had a very busy day. And then, with all that washing waiting to be folded now, the new cleaner doesn't show up for the second time in a row. I'm not happy - I overdid things so much that I can hardly walk, and ended up doing her job as well. But what made all the hours slaving worth while was finding my copy of The Odyssey in her room, still in good condition and obviously unread by her.
What amuses me, is that Stumble took me to the very site that I could download a copy from.
Then, later, I stumbled to another Odyssey site.
I just love co-incidence - I can roll in it for hours and never smell bad. That's always a bonus.
Seriously gotta wonder about that Gorgonzola cheese now, dontcha?
It's Project Gutenberg.
This has got to be the epitome of the answer to the online bibliophiles question of "I wonder where I can get a copy of "Apocolocyntosis" by Lucius Annaeus Seneca; "Les aventures de M. Colin-Tampon" by Jules Girardin, or even Homer's "Odyssey" (Homer as in Greek, not Simpson, do try harder).
You can start small with the Top 100 Titles and Authors and work your way up if you don't think you are up to the excitement your first time.
One of my earliest pieces of classical reading was a seventh century B.C history book called "The Odyssey" by the Greek author Homer. It's a wee yarn about the brilliant and sexy, yet prideful muscleman Odysseus, a real man's man who has seen Troy ransacked and burnt to the ground and the troubles he met taking the long way home from the war; among them a chick having a really bad-hair day (even before she met her Perseus); an enchantresss who thought all men were swine (and they were, when she had finished with them), and a really one-eyed troglodyte called Polyphemus who had a thing for sheep.
Well, anyway, when I was a teenager I used to have a Reader's Digest Special Edition which incuded The Odyssey in it, and I read it many times. I had managed not to lose it for years, but was thinking a few weeks ago that I hadn't seen it in a very long time and started searching for a new copy to replace it. I think Heather should read it - might have to wait until after she finished "Trinity" by Leon Uris.
Anyway, I spent Sunday cleaning up Heather's room, an unbelievable marathon taking 6 hours, 7 loads of washing and 8 bags of rubbish (for a break I pushed the go-kart around the paddock and dug the side off the mound of woodchips to get the go-kart back in the gate, after first attempting to lift and carry the damn thing over the pile) but did not find her missing school uniform jersey which was the reason I even dared to set a foot in her door in the first place. There are some places no sane woman goes and a 14 year old's bedroom is one of them.
In other words, I had a very busy day. And then, with all that washing waiting to be folded now, the new cleaner doesn't show up for the second time in a row. I'm not happy - I overdid things so much that I can hardly walk, and ended up doing her job as well. But what made all the hours slaving worth while was finding my copy of The Odyssey in her room, still in good condition and obviously unread by her.
What amuses me, is that Stumble took me to the very site that I could download a copy from.
Then, later, I stumbled to another Odyssey site.
I just love co-incidence - I can roll in it for hours and never smell bad. That's always a bonus.
Seriously gotta wonder about that Gorgonzola cheese now, dontcha?
:: Monday, April 11, 2005
Lickin' good
If I didn't know better, I could swear this was Colin; it looks so much like him, they could be twins. Honest, the physical resemblance is uncanny.
It really looks like him - the same white and scrawny arse; the same receding hairline; the same facial fungus and the same obvious enjoyment at having his arse kissed... and he always liked to be seen as a man outstanding in his field, whether he actually was or not. Believe me, he's not. He even has the same weasily identifiable nose.
Mind you, last time I saw him without any clothes on, he wasn't that tanned, but then I have had this pic for a few years now. I had even forgotten I had it until tonight. I remember showing it to him when I first found it and I seem to recall his smile looked a trifle sick. At the time, I put it down to sick self-recognition, but maybe it just brought back bad memories.
Maybe he has been taken over by his doppelganger. That might explain how a once seemingly decent person became such a complete asswipe so rapidly.
Or was it simply raw talent? That'd do it, too.
I won't even mention the cow.
It really looks like him - the same white and scrawny arse; the same receding hairline; the same facial fungus and the same obvious enjoyment at having his arse kissed... and he always liked to be seen as a man outstanding in his field, whether he actually was or not. Believe me, he's not. He even has the same weasily identifiable nose.
Mind you, last time I saw him without any clothes on, he wasn't that tanned, but then I have had this pic for a few years now. I had even forgotten I had it until tonight. I remember showing it to him when I first found it and I seem to recall his smile looked a trifle sick. At the time, I put it down to sick self-recognition, but maybe it just brought back bad memories.
Maybe he has been taken over by his doppelganger. That might explain how a once seemingly decent person became such a complete asswipe so rapidly.
Or was it simply raw talent? That'd do it, too.
I won't even mention the cow.
:: Sunday, April 10, 2005
Sunday morning capers
Life is strange, did you notice?
I think I did.
I'm sitting here, stumbling around the Net half pissed, listening to Ray Stevens songs and reading strange websites about male pregnancy, a rabbit on Death Row, planning my World Domination and reliving my childhood playing paper doll dressups with Jesus.
So, what's wrong with this picture? Well, I'm out of bloody beer, for starters.
Did you know, having short hair makes it easier to fulfil my long-held belief that everyone should brush their hair once a day? Unless you have no hair, in which case it doesn't matter.
Or does it...
I guess you could say I sorta stumbled through this post, in lots of ways **hic**
"We thought it was kinda handy, take a trip and never leave the farm"
Ray Stevens - "The Wildwood Weed"
I think I did.
I'm sitting here, stumbling around the Net half pissed, listening to Ray Stevens songs and reading strange websites about male pregnancy, a rabbit on Death Row, planning my World Domination and reliving my childhood playing paper doll dressups with Jesus.
So, what's wrong with this picture? Well, I'm out of bloody beer, for starters.
Did you know, having short hair makes it easier to fulfil my long-held belief that everyone should brush their hair once a day? Unless you have no hair, in which case it doesn't matter.
Or does it...
I guess you could say I sorta stumbled through this post, in lots of ways **hic**
"We thought it was kinda handy, take a trip and never leave the farm"
Ray Stevens - "The Wildwood Weed"
:: Saturday, April 09, 2005
Eclipse me, baby
Sunrise this morning brought us a rare opportunity to see an annular eclipse. And, typically, we missed it because of heavy cloud.
Only a band on the eastern horizon, though. We didn't bother to trek over to the beach to watch the sun rise.
I am bummed.
I cleaned up Reg's welding helmet last night, ready for safe viewing this morning. I even smoked some jars so we would all have something to look through; you can't fit 4 people into one welding mask, after all. That smacks of Billy Connolly's Big Slipper, the super duper family sized one. Almost as funny as his "Womens demands".
It could have looked like this (the eclipse, not the slipper, dummy):
it would more likely have looked like this:
Unfortunately, because this was our horizon this morning, it looked like this:
Billy, of course, looks like this:
I guess we will have to wait for the partial eclipse of the moon on October 17.
PS - smoking jars ain't half as much fun as smoking other stuff.
A few more eclipse shots from Finland.
"and everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
Pink Floyd - Eclipse
Only a band on the eastern horizon, though. We didn't bother to trek over to the beach to watch the sun rise.
I am bummed.
I cleaned up Reg's welding helmet last night, ready for safe viewing this morning. I even smoked some jars so we would all have something to look through; you can't fit 4 people into one welding mask, after all. That smacks of Billy Connolly's Big Slipper, the super duper family sized one. Almost as funny as his "Womens demands".
It could have looked like this (the eclipse, not the slipper, dummy):
it would more likely have looked like this:
Unfortunately, because this was our horizon this morning, it looked like this:
Billy, of course, looks like this:
I guess we will have to wait for the partial eclipse of the moon on October 17.
PS - smoking jars ain't half as much fun as smoking other stuff.
A few more eclipse shots from Finland.
"and everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
Pink Floyd - Eclipse
:: Friday, April 08, 2005
a good roasting
I just lurve roast kumera. Especially roast kumera with a nice medium rare roast of hogget. Yum.
The problem is, all meat has become so expensive, and so have a lot of the veg that it's almost cheaper to go out to a restaurant and have a full roast dinner with entree and dessert than it is to buy, slave, cook and clean up after a home cooked one. In fact it IS cheaper - $13.50/head (I think) at the pub at Otumoetai.
So, to offset the cost of a nice roast dinner, I've decided that I'll harvest the last of the super tomatoes Ads has grown this summer (and make fried green tomatoes with whats still on the vine)
and we can dig over the plot and plant the 3 nicely sprouting kumera I just found in the bottom of the vege bin. That'll shut Reg up if nothing else
Speaking of plots... if you think we have a boy-racer problem here, with their spaced out, riced up jalopies, check out what the bloody Japs are doing to theirs:
Bugger cruising down the Ginza on a Friday night with one of these brutes breathing up ya bum.
YUK! Want more vehicular vomit??
What the hell are they putting in the RICE these days??
The problem is, all meat has become so expensive, and so have a lot of the veg that it's almost cheaper to go out to a restaurant and have a full roast dinner with entree and dessert than it is to buy, slave, cook and clean up after a home cooked one. In fact it IS cheaper - $13.50/head (I think) at the pub at Otumoetai.
So, to offset the cost of a nice roast dinner, I've decided that I'll harvest the last of the super tomatoes Ads has grown this summer (and make fried green tomatoes with whats still on the vine)
and we can dig over the plot and plant the 3 nicely sprouting kumera I just found in the bottom of the vege bin. That'll shut Reg up if nothing else
Speaking of plots... if you think we have a boy-racer problem here, with their spaced out, riced up jalopies, check out what the bloody Japs are doing to theirs:
Bugger cruising down the Ginza on a Friday night with one of these brutes breathing up ya bum.
YUK! Want more vehicular vomit??
What the hell are they putting in the RICE these days??
:: Thursday, April 07, 2005
Pretty ugly
"I never saw an ugly thing in my life: for let the form of an object be what it may, -- light, shade, and perspective will always make it beautiful".
John Constable (1776-1837) - Painter
What is ugly? What makes us think something is ugly? How much of our perception is based on an unconscious comparison with things, memories, doubts inside ourselves?
The first time I saw Nushie, I thought "That's the FUGLIEST dog I have ever seen". Of course, I didn't say that out loud in case Debbie was offended. It was the first time I had met her as well. You should really need to wait for the second meeting before you insult someone.
Or their dog :-D
But I didn't know Nushie then and I was looking at her with eyes expecting to see a long pointy face, smooth skin, a coat that wasn't a few sizes too big. You know, something resembling a dog.
And instead, I saw this:
And everyone thinks she is ugly, when they first meet her.
But what's ugly about it?
The soft, velvet muzzle? The tidy, compact ears? Softly folded wrinkles around her eyes that crinkle when she smiles? Or the highly defined and very symmetrical folds across her head? Is it the exquisite palette of colours her coat is comprised of?
Ok, so the pic of the lazy Fatima a few nights ago showed a whole different wrinkled face, but that's Debs fault for mating a girl so fine as Nushie with a coarse, arrogant Australian, all dick and no brains.
Reg calls Fatima "Mr Magoo" because she is so jowly and gormless. And she makes some horrible noises, awake and asleep. They aren't very pretty, I must say, but then, neither is the smell that emanates from the other end at regular intervals.
Now that IS ugly.
In the case of perceived beauty, I don't think it's the individual that is ugly, more the inside of the person viewing it. In other words, if you are looking for ugly, you will definitely find it.
There are very few ugly actresses out in good old Hollywood. Unless you count Phyllis Diller. Phyllis wasn't stupid enough to try to be something she wasn't, ie a beautiful woman, instead she parodied herself by accentuating the features that many women would have sold themselves to be able to remove. Celebrity allowed her to be who she wanted to be and gave her the money to do what she wanted to do. It allowed her to let her light shine out. And as it did, you forgot for a while that she wasn't supposed to be a beautiful woman after all.
She was, IS much more than that (cos she ain't dead yet).
I reckon they modelled ALF on a 'pei. Seriously, give Nush a few more muzzle wrinkles and a fringe, turn her ears into pointy ones and you got this, Gordon Shumway.
From Melmac:
Even the colour is almost right. Bugger me.
"Most children threaten at times to run away from home. This is the only thing that keeps some parents going".
Phyllis Diller
PS! I stumbled across THIS site. Figure out beauty for yourself.
John Constable (1776-1837) - Painter
What is ugly? What makes us think something is ugly? How much of our perception is based on an unconscious comparison with things, memories, doubts inside ourselves?
The first time I saw Nushie, I thought "That's the FUGLIEST dog I have ever seen". Of course, I didn't say that out loud in case Debbie was offended. It was the first time I had met her as well. You should really need to wait for the second meeting before you insult someone.
Or their dog :-D
But I didn't know Nushie then and I was looking at her with eyes expecting to see a long pointy face, smooth skin, a coat that wasn't a few sizes too big. You know, something resembling a dog.
And instead, I saw this:
And everyone thinks she is ugly, when they first meet her.
But what's ugly about it?
The soft, velvet muzzle? The tidy, compact ears? Softly folded wrinkles around her eyes that crinkle when she smiles? Or the highly defined and very symmetrical folds across her head? Is it the exquisite palette of colours her coat is comprised of?
Ok, so the pic of the lazy Fatima a few nights ago showed a whole different wrinkled face, but that's Debs fault for mating a girl so fine as Nushie with a coarse, arrogant Australian, all dick and no brains.
Reg calls Fatima "Mr Magoo" because she is so jowly and gormless. And she makes some horrible noises, awake and asleep. They aren't very pretty, I must say, but then, neither is the smell that emanates from the other end at regular intervals.
Now that IS ugly.
In the case of perceived beauty, I don't think it's the individual that is ugly, more the inside of the person viewing it. In other words, if you are looking for ugly, you will definitely find it.
There are very few ugly actresses out in good old Hollywood. Unless you count Phyllis Diller. Phyllis wasn't stupid enough to try to be something she wasn't, ie a beautiful woman, instead she parodied herself by accentuating the features that many women would have sold themselves to be able to remove. Celebrity allowed her to be who she wanted to be and gave her the money to do what she wanted to do. It allowed her to let her light shine out. And as it did, you forgot for a while that she wasn't supposed to be a beautiful woman after all.
She was, IS much more than that (cos she ain't dead yet).
I reckon they modelled ALF on a 'pei. Seriously, give Nush a few more muzzle wrinkles and a fringe, turn her ears into pointy ones and you got this, Gordon Shumway.
From Melmac:
Even the colour is almost right. Bugger me.
"Most children threaten at times to run away from home. This is the only thing that keeps some parents going".
Phyllis Diller
PS! I stumbled across THIS site. Figure out beauty for yourself.
:: Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Contused
Yayyyyy, I had my last (this time around) trip to the dentist this morning. When I came home, I was wearing someone else's teeth, hidden behind someone else's lips, attached to someeone else's chin and wishing I had someone else's bank account as well, one with more money in it, like $700 more money in it.
Wearing someone else's chin is vastly over rated, I must say.
Yes I must, be quiet.
Soooo, anyhooo, when I got home I made some toast for a very late breakfast, and a coffee and rolled a cigarette and then realised that, not only did all these bits belong to someone else, they weren't prepared to co-operate with me. So I dribbled pieces of toast whilst slurping a very cool coffee through a straw and attempting to suck on a ciggie (I SAID CIGGIE) and made a hua of a mess all over my desk. Then I gave up and went off for a snooze.
Now that I'm awake, I realise that my lip is all bruised and contused on one side and it's blardy sore, so I'm still sipping my coffee through a straw. I think I must have bitten myself and not noticed it. Do you think I should get a tetanus injection, just to be safe...?
What about a rabies shot?
BTW, no one is wanking sychophantically any more, now it's "debating masterfully". You can masterfully debate, or even mass debate (if you must), as much as you like now :-)
Linux error messages - "Dazed and confused but trying to continue"
Wearing someone else's chin is vastly over rated, I must say.
Yes I must, be quiet.
Soooo, anyhooo, when I got home I made some toast for a very late breakfast, and a coffee and rolled a cigarette and then realised that, not only did all these bits belong to someone else, they weren't prepared to co-operate with me. So I dribbled pieces of toast whilst slurping a very cool coffee through a straw and attempting to suck on a ciggie (I SAID CIGGIE) and made a hua of a mess all over my desk. Then I gave up and went off for a snooze.
Now that I'm awake, I realise that my lip is all bruised and contused on one side and it's blardy sore, so I'm still sipping my coffee through a straw. I think I must have bitten myself and not noticed it. Do you think I should get a tetanus injection, just to be safe...?
What about a rabies shot?
BTW, no one is wanking sychophantically any more, now it's "debating masterfully". You can masterfully debate, or even mass debate (if you must), as much as you like now :-)
Linux error messages - "Dazed and confused but trying to continue"
:: Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Random Daily Stumble 2
I love Roadrunner.
Actually, I hate Roadrunner but I love Wile E. Coyote.
Wylie lives at the end of my bed. Here he is with his best mate, Craig.
Wiley used to go for sleepovers at Tigger's house with her dog Sam bear Sebastian (wonders how I forgot that **blush**). He always came home again though.
Anyway, I stumbled on the Acme site tonight and wow! what an amazing catalogue of treats they have!
Go there.
Be transported here.
kewl huh! I liked the dehydrated boulders.
I like Wiley cos he never gives up; he always comes up with another plan and he always gives it 110%, every single time. Personally, I think he's addicted to the Acme Home Shopping Channel.
Anyway, shopaholic aside, I'd like to have been half the coyote Wiley is.
Shut up, you know what I mean.
I'm going to bed, now. Move over, boys.
meep meep
Actually, I hate Roadrunner but I love Wile E. Coyote.
Wylie lives at the end of my bed. Here he is with his best mate, Craig.
Wiley used to go for sleepovers at Tigger's house with her dog Sam bear Sebastian (wonders how I forgot that **blush**). He always came home again though.
Anyway, I stumbled on the Acme site tonight and wow! what an amazing catalogue of treats they have!
Go there.
Be transported here.
kewl huh! I liked the dehydrated boulders.
I like Wiley cos he never gives up; he always comes up with another plan and he always gives it 110%, every single time. Personally, I think he's addicted to the Acme Home Shopping Channel.
Anyway, shopaholic aside, I'd like to have been half the coyote Wiley is.
Shut up, you know what I mean.
I'm going to bed, now. Move over, boys.
meep meep
:: Monday, April 04, 2005
If a picture paints 1000 words
Then a photograph paints a million.
This was our sky overhead at 5.30 tonight.
There's something fishy about a mackerel sky.
Awesome. The most awesome thing that's happened all week. Oh yeah, it's only Monday. This guy likes taking pictoors of clouds, too but his are better than mine.
I am sick. I feel like utter crap. I need some of these.
You got any of those? You have? How much for enough to get to Cloud 9? I booked ahead, you know.
This was our sky overhead at 5.30 tonight.
There's something fishy about a mackerel sky.
Awesome. The most awesome thing that's happened all week. Oh yeah, it's only Monday. This guy likes taking pictoors of clouds, too but his are better than mine.
I am sick. I feel like utter crap. I need some of these.
You got any of those? You have? How much for enough to get to Cloud 9? I booked ahead, you know.
Radio HaurakiClassic Rock that Rocks
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Some content included in this site has been liberated at (and from) great peril from the internet. Where possible, credit or a link has been given or is marked as "Unknown", except for jokes - I don't make up jokes. All other content comes straight from the Brain of Moi. I reserve the right to retain ownership of my own drivel :-)
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