:: Monday, October 31, 2005
Hallowed
Tonight is Samhain, or All Hallows Eve, an ancient and sacred night when the spirits of those who have gone before are close, the veil between this world and the next is at it's thinnest.
Of course, Halloween is more likely to conjure up images of goblins and skeletons and miniature Batmen roaming the streets in search of victims to take lollies and chocolates from, courtesy of the American bastardisation and commercialism of an ancient celebration and the custom of trick-or-treating.
Typical.
The streets here had kids roaming around in broad daylight dressed in all manner of garishly flammable and thoroughly unscary costume attire (Molotov cocktail, anyone) hitting up hapless householders who are sitting and enjoying their dinner and the television in peace.
My school buddy Ian and I dressed up for Halloween in 2000, he was Dracula and I put on all my Morticia gear and got Thing out of storage and we went to Poly for the day like that, just for giggles and shits (taking the piss is so much fun, after all). It was a hoot, these two 36 year olds dressing up, a bunch of tutors wearing black for the occasion and all these teens and young students aghast at the idea of going to school like that! Pitiful, humourless twats. We had a ball.
Ian used to work for Asswipe too, once upon a time. Come to think of it, I remember his wife moaning that Ian didn't get paid on time, either...
Anyway, back to modern day Halloween, I never could get past the strange irony of spending 364 days of the year teaching your kids not to accept lollies from strangers and one night slavishly encouraging them to do so.
This world is sooooo fucked up. Now, where did I leave my flamethrower...
:: Sunday, October 30, 2005
10 things you don't want to know about me
1. I hate television. Especially American television. Except "Whose Line Is It Anyway". And "House". But I hate Christmas more.
2. People who don't read newspapers or watch/listen to the news scare me.
3. I don't really like children. Especially mine.
4. I don't suffer fools, morons and idiots, or showy flashy shallow people gladly, in fact I don't suffer them at all. Long walk, short pier. Just do it.
5. I'm a hermit; I seldom see anyone and I never go out to social occasions.
6. I'm scared of the dark. Both my children were conceived in the dark; I think that's probably why I don't like them very much (refer #3).
7. I seldom say what I mean and I seldom mean what I say. Or do I...
8. My life is spent in isolation on the internet and let me tell you, it's really hard squeezing a big blimp body down that skinny little ethernet cable. Getting through the router isn't much fun, either.
9. Multiple sclerosis won't kill me; I'll do that for myself when both me and the coffin are ready. (Must get on with designing that big white box).
10. I want to be a cat in my next life, with wings. That'll really fuck the birds.
12. My blog is the most interesting uninteresting thing on the 'net.
12. I can't count.
2. People who don't read newspapers or watch/listen to the news scare me.
3. I don't really like children. Especially mine.
4. I don't suffer fools, morons and idiots, or showy flashy shallow people gladly, in fact I don't suffer them at all. Long walk, short pier. Just do it.
5. I'm a hermit; I seldom see anyone and I never go out to social occasions.
6. I'm scared of the dark. Both my children were conceived in the dark; I think that's probably why I don't like them very much (refer #3).
7. I seldom say what I mean and I seldom mean what I say. Or do I...
8. My life is spent in isolation on the internet and let me tell you, it's really hard squeezing a big blimp body down that skinny little ethernet cable. Getting through the router isn't much fun, either.
9. Multiple sclerosis won't kill me; I'll do that for myself when both me and the coffin are ready. (Must get on with designing that big white box).
10. I want to be a cat in my next life, with wings. That'll really fuck the birds.
12. My blog is the most interesting uninteresting thing on the 'net.
12. I can't count.
:: Saturday, October 29, 2005
Good dog
Thank God this one won't crap all over ya lawn, hmmm?
:: Friday, October 28, 2005
Down memory lane, again
Where were you in 1978? What were you listening to?
What movies were you watching?
In 1978, this was unleashed on an unsuspecting public:
That's right, that was the year that Clint Eastwood and his sidekick Clyde (aka Manis in real life) hit the big screen in the movie "Every Which Way But Loose", followed in 1980 by "Any Which Way You Can" which I don't remember being as funny.
A bit of booze, a bit of sex (even the ape gets laid), a lot of fighting and some real belly laughs, not to mention some bloody awful country music courtesy of Sondra Locke, Clint's one-time, long-time live-in love.
I said not to mention it **shudders**
I introduced Adam to the movie tonight and he reckoned it was a real winner. Seeing it for the first time in 25 years and through adult eyes, I felt it had stood the test of time rather well.
A right little "ripper", in fact, definitely worth the hireage.
What movies were you watching?
In 1978, this was unleashed on an unsuspecting public:
That's right, that was the year that Clint Eastwood and his sidekick Clyde (aka Manis in real life) hit the big screen in the movie "Every Which Way But Loose", followed in 1980 by "Any Which Way You Can" which I don't remember being as funny.
A bit of booze, a bit of sex (even the ape gets laid), a lot of fighting and some real belly laughs, not to mention some bloody awful country music courtesy of Sondra Locke, Clint's one-time, long-time live-in love.
I said not to mention it **shudders**
I introduced Adam to the movie tonight and he reckoned it was a real winner. Seeing it for the first time in 25 years and through adult eyes, I felt it had stood the test of time rather well.
A right little "ripper", in fact, definitely worth the hireage.
:: Thursday, October 27, 2005
Travelogue - 2
Gold, not just a colour!... romantic and exotic - rings and necklaces, treasure troves and pirates, plates and figurines and hoarded coins. They all started in the same way, millions and millions of years ago when the Earth was being born and this noble metal, 19 times heavier than water was being deposited all over the planet.
Gold has always been precious to those who had it, and those who didn't (but wanted it) and the desire to acquire it, hold it and wear it lives in most of us to a greater or lesser degree. In ancient times and modern times, people have gone to extraodinary lengths to get their hands on it. Mined deep under the earth's surface, crushed and extracted from quartz rock, panned for in rivers and streams from South Africa to South America, North to South and everywhere in between, men and women have hankered for it, written about it, killed for it and died for it through the ages.
In comparatively recent times, the lust for gold had drawn people to endure great hardships just to find a bit of their own; even in the onetime goldfields of little old New Zealand, gold is immortalised in tourism and local culture, the crude cabins and tools displayed for historical edification. Probably nowhere on the planet was the drive for gold more pronounced than the Klondike in Canada.
From a handy jumping off point in Seattle, Washington, and San Francisco, California thousands upon thousands of people from all across the United States took ship, to Skagway and Dyea to climb the 3,739 foot high Chilkoot Pass, carrying the one ton of goods per person required to be allowed to cross into Canada, one load at a time on their backs, or on sleds dragged 3/4 of a mile up a 45° stretch of mountainside.
Others travelled, for months, 3,000 miles by sea to St Michael, another almost 1,400 miles up the Yukon River that was mostly frozen from October to July to cross Alaska and reach Dawson and the Klondike where major gold deposits had been discovered in 1896. They endured temperatures of 50 degrees below zero, insatiable mosquitoes, starvation and death as they steamed, sailed, climbed, walked, crawled and died on their way to making their own personal fortune at the top of the world in places named Eldorado and Bonanza Creek. Any vessel even remotely seaworthy was pressed into service to carry tremendous waiting lists of passengers prepared to pay a fortune just to reach the goldfields.
All for some flakes of a shiny metal called Gold.
Alaska is also home to Nome which had no permanent settlement until 1898 when gold was discovered on Anvil Creek, and then discovered in the beach sands. Thousands of people flooded into the area to seek their fortune and by 1900 a tent city housing 10,000 people stretched for 30 miles along the bleak coast.
Today, some 3,500 people live in Nome and the gold is all gone, but this wild and inhospitable but infinitely historically interesting piece of the planet, located just below the arctic circle is one of the places I would have liked to have visited.
But only from a plane or a train, thanks :-)
You can see more images of Alaska n her heyday here.
Gold has always been precious to those who had it, and those who didn't (but wanted it) and the desire to acquire it, hold it and wear it lives in most of us to a greater or lesser degree. In ancient times and modern times, people have gone to extraodinary lengths to get their hands on it. Mined deep under the earth's surface, crushed and extracted from quartz rock, panned for in rivers and streams from South Africa to South America, North to South and everywhere in between, men and women have hankered for it, written about it, killed for it and died for it through the ages.
In comparatively recent times, the lust for gold had drawn people to endure great hardships just to find a bit of their own; even in the onetime goldfields of little old New Zealand, gold is immortalised in tourism and local culture, the crude cabins and tools displayed for historical edification. Probably nowhere on the planet was the drive for gold more pronounced than the Klondike in Canada.
From a handy jumping off point in Seattle, Washington, and San Francisco, California thousands upon thousands of people from all across the United States took ship, to Skagway and Dyea to climb the 3,739 foot high Chilkoot Pass, carrying the one ton of goods per person required to be allowed to cross into Canada, one load at a time on their backs, or on sleds dragged 3/4 of a mile up a 45° stretch of mountainside.
Others travelled, for months, 3,000 miles by sea to St Michael, another almost 1,400 miles up the Yukon River that was mostly frozen from October to July to cross Alaska and reach Dawson and the Klondike where major gold deposits had been discovered in 1896. They endured temperatures of 50 degrees below zero, insatiable mosquitoes, starvation and death as they steamed, sailed, climbed, walked, crawled and died on their way to making their own personal fortune at the top of the world in places named Eldorado and Bonanza Creek. Any vessel even remotely seaworthy was pressed into service to carry tremendous waiting lists of passengers prepared to pay a fortune just to reach the goldfields.
All for some flakes of a shiny metal called Gold.
Alaska is also home to Nome which had no permanent settlement until 1898 when gold was discovered on Anvil Creek, and then discovered in the beach sands. Thousands of people flooded into the area to seek their fortune and by 1900 a tent city housing 10,000 people stretched for 30 miles along the bleak coast.
Today, some 3,500 people live in Nome and the gold is all gone, but this wild and inhospitable but infinitely historically interesting piece of the planet, located just below the arctic circle is one of the places I would have liked to have visited.
But only from a plane or a train, thanks :-)
You can see more images of Alaska n her heyday here.
:: Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Deferred
I was going to write another Travelogue post tonight but I've had a beer and a bourbon (courtesy of Flatty) and I'm too pissed to handle it.
It's your lucky night!
In the meantime, you can chat amongst yourselves :-)
Keep an eye out for the next rivetting blog post, coming to a monitor screen near you soon.
While you're waiting...
When I grow up I want to be funny
Have cool hair like Cher and make lots of money
Grow lots of good weed (cos there's never enough)
Have a pool guy cum gardener who lean, tanned and buff
I'll travel the world and never get tired
And work for myself (then I'll never get fired)
I'll drive a fast car and never get tickets
Have surround sound at home to drown out the crickets
And nice kids, polite kids, clean, tidy and quiet
Not two howling monsters who live only to riot
That will drive me to drink and cause maternal psychosis
And I sure as hell won't have multiple sclerosis
I'll have space all around me, enough room for the cats
And not have to worry about their birds, mice and rats
But despite all this wealth, not one thing will I keep
If I can trade in the lot now for a decent night's sleep.
It's your lucky night!
In the meantime, you can chat amongst yourselves :-)
Keep an eye out for the next rivetting blog post, coming to a monitor screen near you soon.
While you're waiting...
When I grow up I want to be funny
Have cool hair like Cher and make lots of money
Grow lots of good weed (cos there's never enough)
Have a pool guy cum gardener who lean, tanned and buff
I'll travel the world and never get tired
And work for myself (then I'll never get fired)
I'll drive a fast car and never get tickets
Have surround sound at home to drown out the crickets
And nice kids, polite kids, clean, tidy and quiet
Not two howling monsters who live only to riot
That will drive me to drink and cause maternal psychosis
And I sure as hell won't have multiple sclerosis
I'll have space all around me, enough room for the cats
And not have to worry about their birds, mice and rats
But despite all this wealth, not one thing will I keep
If I can trade in the lot now for a decent night's sleep.
:: Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Acquisition Queen
When I was a kid, I loved Jules Verne's novels, especially "Journey to the Centre of the Earth".
Jules Verne 1828 - 1905
I had the book and read it and read it and eventually I must have read it to death, cos I sure as hell don't have it now. I have managed to find a picture that looks very similar to how I remember the cover of the book to be, though (except for the slightly different title).
I also remember being very taken with "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" and the cruel but daring Captain Nemo, both in book form and on TV. Now, as an adult, I have recently acquired "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" on DVD and have been reacquainted with Captain Nemo along with a whole bunch of wonderful characters. This time, however, the Nautilus is larger, sleeker and better appointed than my memory tells me the original one was,
and Nemo has a really cool car.
And I want one.
OK, so it probably only does 3 gallons to the mile and there's no chance of parking it downtown, but that's just one more excuse not to go into town, isn't it?
Isn't it amazing the things people can dream up and write about that don't come into being for the better part of a century? I think I should make an effort to pad out my library with some of these classics.
Jules Verne 1828 - 1905
I had the book and read it and read it and eventually I must have read it to death, cos I sure as hell don't have it now. I have managed to find a picture that looks very similar to how I remember the cover of the book to be, though (except for the slightly different title).
I also remember being very taken with "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" and the cruel but daring Captain Nemo, both in book form and on TV. Now, as an adult, I have recently acquired "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" on DVD and have been reacquainted with Captain Nemo along with a whole bunch of wonderful characters. This time, however, the Nautilus is larger, sleeker and better appointed than my memory tells me the original one was,
and Nemo has a really cool car.
And I want one.
OK, so it probably only does 3 gallons to the mile and there's no chance of parking it downtown, but that's just one more excuse not to go into town, isn't it?
Isn't it amazing the things people can dream up and write about that don't come into being for the better part of a century? I think I should make an effort to pad out my library with some of these classics.
:: Saturday, October 22, 2005
Labour weekend
It's Labour weekend in truth.
Nushie went into labour and produced 2 dead puppies in the early hours of this morning - one little chocolate boy (a replica of herself) born deformed and one little black girl.
Mum is very depressed and sad about her babies.
Interested folk can see her babies here.
Nushie went into labour and produced 2 dead puppies in the early hours of this morning - one little chocolate boy (a replica of herself) born deformed and one little black girl.
Mum is very depressed and sad about her babies.
Interested folk can see her babies here.
:: Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Garlic run
This one got away.
:: Monday, October 17, 2005
Comedic quote of the week
There's no such thing as bad weather, there's only the wrong clothes.
Billy Connolly.
Billy Connolly.
:: Sunday, October 16, 2005
Travelogue - 1
When people think of ancient cultures and civilisations, they often think of the biblical lands or early Egypt as being the start of what we could maybe call "civilisation".
But there were people, smart people, living in carefully constructed towns, using cunningly constructed tools a long time before the rise of the Great Pharoahs.
You can't get much further away from NZ (in miles or time) than traveling to the Orkney Islands and visiting the Neolithic settlement of Skara Brae.
Rediscovered only 155 years ago, the people of this isolated place dwelt in one of the most inhospitable locations imaginable; the windswept Islands at the top of Scotland; natural resources were scanty, the weather was unkind and the people lived a very short lifespan.
Skara Brae was inhabited by relatives of the Grooved Ware people, known now for the type of pottery they made, called Unstan Ware, 4,000 years before Christianity raised it's dubious head and their culture was dying at about the same time the Egyptians were rising.
Today, Skara Brae looks like this
and their once buried village contained quite sophisticated structures
incorporating built in beds, ovens and conduits for removing waste.
You can read more about Neolithic people and the artifacts they left behind
here, and about neolithic civilisations in general here.
Even better, check out one of the most amazing and authoritative books on this huge topic of Megalithic/Neolithic cultures here.
Enjoy.
But there were people, smart people, living in carefully constructed towns, using cunningly constructed tools a long time before the rise of the Great Pharoahs.
You can't get much further away from NZ (in miles or time) than traveling to the Orkney Islands and visiting the Neolithic settlement of Skara Brae.
Rediscovered only 155 years ago, the people of this isolated place dwelt in one of the most inhospitable locations imaginable; the windswept Islands at the top of Scotland; natural resources were scanty, the weather was unkind and the people lived a very short lifespan.
Skara Brae was inhabited by relatives of the Grooved Ware people, known now for the type of pottery they made, called Unstan Ware, 4,000 years before Christianity raised it's dubious head and their culture was dying at about the same time the Egyptians were rising.
Today, Skara Brae looks like this
and their once buried village contained quite sophisticated structures
incorporating built in beds, ovens and conduits for removing waste.
You can read more about Neolithic people and the artifacts they left behind
here, and about neolithic civilisations in general here.
Even better, check out one of the most amazing and authoritative books on this huge topic of Megalithic/Neolithic cultures here.
Enjoy.
:: Saturday, October 15, 2005
Just visiting
I'm working my way around my virtual travel itinerary and keep stopping to say "what the fuck..." to myself at some of the stuff Im finding.
Like this; some people are very unkind to their vegetables.
Like this; some people are very unkind to their vegetables.
:: Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Not a teacher's arsehole (merely full of shit)
Adam's teacher sunk to a whole new low today in class.
Earlier this year, she made a fuss with Adam (not with me) about my lack of forthcoming payment of $10 for a "class contribution" towards her purchasing extra resources for her self-professed teaching needs. There were a several things wrong with this scenario;
1. She had neglected to inform me previously that this $10 was required, as she had neglected to ensure she furnished ALL her individual student packs with ALL the documentation she wanted to hand out. Oops.
2. She tackled Adam and gave him a hard time about it (more than once) instead of communicating with me. Bigger oops.
3. At the start of the school year, we, as parents were required to purchase the standard Year 7 stationery pack containing all the types of stationery and equipment our children would require during the year. We weren't allowed a requirements list to purchase our own, we had to buy their overpriced stationery (so that they made a tidy profit). Her "class contribution" was to purchase additional materials over and above the class requirement to feed her own pet class projects. If the kids needed them, they should have been in the stationery pack. Oooops.
Her repeated inability to follow simple procedures such as parental communication when required over these types of issues (prefering to badger children) and the non-curricular payment requirement were discussed briefly with her at the last parent/teacher interview (with her superior present) and then at length with said superior and HIS superior, at which time we made it very clear (like crystal, baby) that she was not at_any_time to discuss issues such as this with Adam, but was required to communicate directly with me.
You may remember (but probably don't) my bitching a few months ago about her giving him a ton of grief (more of her bullying tactics), and that I was not a happy camper where she was concerned. Later, when compulsory cross country day rolled around and he was concerned he had missed it, she said to him "so that's why you were away yesterday, because you thought you would get out of cross country?" when his absence was due to his ongoing and increasing migraines, which she was already very aware of, along with his hard work preparing for it and his desire to meet the challenge of the run.
Today she sunk to a whole new level when she addressed the whole class and proceeded to publicly name and shame 5 students who were in arrears for this class payment (yesterday she told Adam that he wouldn't be included in class picnic day if he didn't pay up - shame he is expected to be in Australia on that day if his dates for the class picnic are correct, but she doesn't know that yet).
And now I have so many issues with this lowlife, unprofessional bitch that I am preparing to nail her arse to the wall via every conceivable avenue should she, and the school not only provide an adequate and satisfactory explanation (OURS this time, not their own self-serving, slimy satisfaction) and a written and verbal apology to Adam for being vitimised in front of his whole class.
Mrs M*** W***s of Tauranga Intermediate School just bought herself the potential for an official complaint to the Principal, the Board of Trustees, the Education Review Office and Ministry of Education for lack of professionalism, breach of privacy and the continual bullying she has given my son for the past 9 months. I'd like to see her stupid ass nailed to some wall and I'm planning on wielding the hammer.
I really hope I meet her on the street one day; I'll teach her a few new words and rip her a couple of new holes to reinforce the lesson. Nobody fucks with my kids and gets away with it - especially some brainless twat like this one is. Let's see how she likes taking on a parent instead of bullying an 11/12 year old child.
PS - I'm REALLY pissed off... can you tell?
And while we are on the topic of assholes, check this one out.
What were his parent's thinking?
Earlier this year, she made a fuss with Adam (not with me) about my lack of forthcoming payment of $10 for a "class contribution" towards her purchasing extra resources for her self-professed teaching needs. There were a several things wrong with this scenario;
1. She had neglected to inform me previously that this $10 was required, as she had neglected to ensure she furnished ALL her individual student packs with ALL the documentation she wanted to hand out. Oops.
2. She tackled Adam and gave him a hard time about it (more than once) instead of communicating with me. Bigger oops.
3. At the start of the school year, we, as parents were required to purchase the standard Year 7 stationery pack containing all the types of stationery and equipment our children would require during the year. We weren't allowed a requirements list to purchase our own, we had to buy their overpriced stationery (so that they made a tidy profit). Her "class contribution" was to purchase additional materials over and above the class requirement to feed her own pet class projects. If the kids needed them, they should have been in the stationery pack. Oooops.
Her repeated inability to follow simple procedures such as parental communication when required over these types of issues (prefering to badger children) and the non-curricular payment requirement were discussed briefly with her at the last parent/teacher interview (with her superior present) and then at length with said superior and HIS superior, at which time we made it very clear (like crystal, baby) that she was not at_any_time to discuss issues such as this with Adam, but was required to communicate directly with me.
You may remember (but probably don't) my bitching a few months ago about her giving him a ton of grief (more of her bullying tactics), and that I was not a happy camper where she was concerned. Later, when compulsory cross country day rolled around and he was concerned he had missed it, she said to him "so that's why you were away yesterday, because you thought you would get out of cross country?" when his absence was due to his ongoing and increasing migraines, which she was already very aware of, along with his hard work preparing for it and his desire to meet the challenge of the run.
Today she sunk to a whole new level when she addressed the whole class and proceeded to publicly name and shame 5 students who were in arrears for this class payment (yesterday she told Adam that he wouldn't be included in class picnic day if he didn't pay up - shame he is expected to be in Australia on that day if his dates for the class picnic are correct, but she doesn't know that yet).
And now I have so many issues with this lowlife, unprofessional bitch that I am preparing to nail her arse to the wall via every conceivable avenue should she, and the school not only provide an adequate and satisfactory explanation (OURS this time, not their own self-serving, slimy satisfaction) and a written and verbal apology to Adam for being vitimised in front of his whole class.
Mrs M*** W***s of Tauranga Intermediate School just bought herself the potential for an official complaint to the Principal, the Board of Trustees, the Education Review Office and Ministry of Education for lack of professionalism, breach of privacy and the continual bullying she has given my son for the past 9 months. I'd like to see her stupid ass nailed to some wall and I'm planning on wielding the hammer.
I really hope I meet her on the street one day; I'll teach her a few new words and rip her a couple of new holes to reinforce the lesson. Nobody fucks with my kids and gets away with it - especially some brainless twat like this one is. Let's see how she likes taking on a parent instead of bullying an 11/12 year old child.
PS - I'm REALLY pissed off... can you tell?
And while we are on the topic of assholes, check this one out.
What were his parent's thinking?
:: Monday, October 10, 2005
Life's little ups and downs
Merlin is finding things are all up in the air at the moment,
whilst Nushie's things are on a bit of a downer...
I have to clean out the front room to make space for her to whelp in, just in case she isn't pretending...
If it's another phantom pregnancy, she is NOT getting another kitten.
This is Gullard, Rocky Roadkill and the Beastie Boyz who live on top of my monitor.
They are REALLY high.
Rocky is the only stuffed toy I ever saw that has gonads. **shrug**
whilst Nushie's things are on a bit of a downer...
I have to clean out the front room to make space for her to whelp in, just in case she isn't pretending...
If it's another phantom pregnancy, she is NOT getting another kitten.
This is Gullard, Rocky Roadkill and the Beastie Boyz who live on top of my monitor.
They are REALLY high.
Rocky is the only stuffed toy I ever saw that has gonads. **shrug**
:: Sunday, October 09, 2005
Or maybe
I'll make it a virtual world trip of ancient civilisations.
brb
brb
:: Saturday, October 08, 2005
Happy Birthday Chapter 4
Square pegs, round holes is one year old today.
Happy birthday to us :-)
Happy birthday to us :-)
:: Friday, October 07, 2005
Olde London Town
I've always wanted to go to London. There's something interests me there, in its history. They have a few old churches, and the ocassional palace with a castle or few thrown in for good measure. All in a relatively small area.
They also have these amazing gardens - the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. In Kew Gardens are many, many cool plants, and hot plants and rock plants and a great big smelly one that doesn't have sex often.
It's called titan arum and from the description of it, I think its aroma of shit and rotting meat would be doggie heaven. It would certainly keep Nush and Fatima happy.
Now, bearing in mind this Sumatran native weighs 75kg and can grow to almost 3 metres long high, that's a big 'un by anyone's standards.
I mean, it's hardly going to be a pot plant, is it?
So it would be cool to go to London and see the neat plants they have there. Then it would be nice to go mad in Dorset
and visit Corfe Castle.
I've always wanted to go there, too.
And Cornwall.
Isn't it funny, I never had a great desire to wander across the world when I was young and well, and now I'm neither of those things I want to go walkabout.
Contrary bitch.
Maybe I should put together a virtual world tour. That'll bore ya shitless.
They also have these amazing gardens - the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. In Kew Gardens are many, many cool plants, and hot plants and rock plants and a great big smelly one that doesn't have sex often.
It's called titan arum and from the description of it, I think its aroma of shit and rotting meat would be doggie heaven. It would certainly keep Nush and Fatima happy.
Now, bearing in mind this Sumatran native weighs 75kg and can grow to almost 3 metres long high, that's a big 'un by anyone's standards.
I mean, it's hardly going to be a pot plant, is it?
So it would be cool to go to London and see the neat plants they have there. Then it would be nice to go mad in Dorset
and visit Corfe Castle.
I've always wanted to go there, too.
And Cornwall.
Isn't it funny, I never had a great desire to wander across the world when I was young and well, and now I'm neither of those things I want to go walkabout.
Contrary bitch.
Maybe I should put together a virtual world tour. That'll bore ya shitless.
:: Thursday, October 06, 2005
Walking down Memory Lane
I wandered off to Murray's tonight for a bit of caffeine and sanity (as much sanity as Murray allows, anyway) and to borrow some new DVDs. He say's "oooh, I've got loads more since you were here, have a look at this..." and off we went picking movies to watch and discussing others in passing. You know, ordinary shit. So, after we've done that, I notice this fancy display-boxed DVD sitting on the table just next to me and the cover looked very unfamiliar. I tend to remember covers, cos, they're pictoors and I love pictoors.
Anyway, I sez to him "oooh, what's this then?" and he sez "yeah, I picked that up and I haven't even looked at it yet". So I sez, can I borrow it then?"
And I did. This is what it is (and no, I don't expect you to go into paroxyms of agreement on how interesting it is, I already KNOW it's good).
It's not just live concert video, it's documentary and computer multimedia as well. And it's very, very cool.
U2 Go Home - Live from Slane Castle.
It's got some excellent high energy live concert footage and what a setting!
And of course it takes me back to November 1989 when U2 played at Western Springs and we took the bus. That was back in the days BC (Before Children/Before Cancer, take your pick) when David and I could be generally civil to each other. He could be quite pleasant, back then and so could I.
Anyway, we blew the budget and bought tickets to U2. We spent the bus ride to the venue toilet-hopping up the Hauraki Plains as the kids onboard drank too much beer and needed frequent relief, and then the mandatory bog-stop at The Red Fox at Maramarua, and by then the motorway into Auckland was chokka from out nearly to the Bombays and the last bit of the trip ground to a crawl. Finally, finally we got to the bus park and raced across Western Springs (being very late by this time) to finally enter the stadium just as the opening act finished. It was Jon Stevens and Noiseworks and boy was I royally pissed off we had missed it. It's not the same listening to it whilst standing in a queue longer than a long thing, you know.
Anyway, at least we were in time for the main event and what an awesome event it was. We had good seats (as good as any cheap seats are at Western Springs) and so did the throng of people partying at the house on top of the hill; you know, that one whose back yard has a birds-eye (if distant) view of the stage.
I wonder how much that property is worth...
U2 came out and did their thing, and what a thing it was they did. It was brilliant. And then BB King came out and did his thing, and when it was getting close to the end of the concert, we left the stadium and went out into the park. There were 10 or so people already out there under the trees listening to the concert and from out there the acoustics were just amazing.
So was the amount of weed being passed around; we added to the haze ourselves in the foggy dark, in the park, and getting stoned with this amazing concert going on became one of those "memory" moments; it was too good to go back inside. "Running To Stand Still" could never be the same after that. Another mega-memory from that night is waking up on the bus, in the Karangahake Gorge and seeing the moonlight shining off the rapids in the river.
That was way cool, too.
And here is my ticket stub...
How much cooler can it get?
Anyway, I sez to him "oooh, what's this then?" and he sez "yeah, I picked that up and I haven't even looked at it yet". So I sez, can I borrow it then?"
And I did. This is what it is (and no, I don't expect you to go into paroxyms of agreement on how interesting it is, I already KNOW it's good).
It's not just live concert video, it's documentary and computer multimedia as well. And it's very, very cool.
U2 Go Home - Live from Slane Castle.
It's got some excellent high energy live concert footage and what a setting!
And of course it takes me back to November 1989 when U2 played at Western Springs and we took the bus. That was back in the days BC (Before Children/Before Cancer, take your pick) when David and I could be generally civil to each other. He could be quite pleasant, back then and so could I.
Anyway, we blew the budget and bought tickets to U2. We spent the bus ride to the venue toilet-hopping up the Hauraki Plains as the kids onboard drank too much beer and needed frequent relief, and then the mandatory bog-stop at The Red Fox at Maramarua, and by then the motorway into Auckland was chokka from out nearly to the Bombays and the last bit of the trip ground to a crawl. Finally, finally we got to the bus park and raced across Western Springs (being very late by this time) to finally enter the stadium just as the opening act finished. It was Jon Stevens and Noiseworks and boy was I royally pissed off we had missed it. It's not the same listening to it whilst standing in a queue longer than a long thing, you know.
Anyway, at least we were in time for the main event and what an awesome event it was. We had good seats (as good as any cheap seats are at Western Springs) and so did the throng of people partying at the house on top of the hill; you know, that one whose back yard has a birds-eye (if distant) view of the stage.
I wonder how much that property is worth...
U2 came out and did their thing, and what a thing it was they did. It was brilliant. And then BB King came out and did his thing, and when it was getting close to the end of the concert, we left the stadium and went out into the park. There were 10 or so people already out there under the trees listening to the concert and from out there the acoustics were just amazing.
So was the amount of weed being passed around; we added to the haze ourselves in the foggy dark, in the park, and getting stoned with this amazing concert going on became one of those "memory" moments; it was too good to go back inside. "Running To Stand Still" could never be the same after that. Another mega-memory from that night is waking up on the bus, in the Karangahake Gorge and seeing the moonlight shining off the rapids in the river.
That was way cool, too.
And here is my ticket stub...
How much cooler can it get?
:: Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Not a bad day for it
Here I am at 1.45 in the morning, dead on my feet and too scared to go to bed.
See, it's like this. Cos I've been (of necessity) spending so much time in bed lately, and seeing as I was feeling half way human today (despite 4/5 of fuck all sleep last night) and because it was a nice day and because I had to go into town to pick up Adam, I decided that today was a very good day to buy and plant the strawberries and rhubarb that I wanted to plant, so we went to the garden centre and bought them. Then Ads had a tanty because I was spraying the weeds and he wanted to so he fucked off next door and left me to move the tyres half way around the house for the strawberries to go in that came off my car last week (the tyres, not the strawberries), dig the dirt, fetch the mulch, lift the bag of sheep pellets, lift the bag of potting mix, mix it all up and plant the bloody plants.
So I did.
And by the time I had carried and lifted and fetched and mixed and planted all this lot, my back wasn't feeling very good and my legs were burning and numb.
(both at once = another MS poxymoron. MS does what it likes)
I've done the spliff; I've done the heat massage; I've done the anti-inflammatories thing. I even thought about doing the Baileys thing but that seemed a bit of a waste and I think that if I lie down now I will never stand up again.
I don't give a toss about the grammar.
Why, oh why couldn't it have been shagger's back? My days of bending over backward are long since gone and I'm completely FUBAR.
Wise-up here.
To top it all off, Nushie has this big titty/blossoming/cuddly thing going on, which would be totally normal if she had been mated last heat. But theoretically she wasn't. Perhaps the hot wee bitch had herself a bit of the wild thing with Boof, unassisted.
Oh well. I did kinda want one more litter, in a quiet, sneaky sort of way.
Speaking of all things slutty and sleepless, hands up who remembers Lili Von Shtupp?
(also known as Madeline Kahn)
Now, that really was some exceptionally good American comedy.
A wed wose, how womantic - Lili Von Shtupp
See, it's like this. Cos I've been (of necessity) spending so much time in bed lately, and seeing as I was feeling half way human today (despite 4/5 of fuck all sleep last night) and because it was a nice day and because I had to go into town to pick up Adam, I decided that today was a very good day to buy and plant the strawberries and rhubarb that I wanted to plant, so we went to the garden centre and bought them. Then Ads had a tanty because I was spraying the weeds and he wanted to so he fucked off next door and left me to move the tyres half way around the house for the strawberries to go in that came off my car last week (the tyres, not the strawberries), dig the dirt, fetch the mulch, lift the bag of sheep pellets, lift the bag of potting mix, mix it all up and plant the bloody plants.
So I did.
And by the time I had carried and lifted and fetched and mixed and planted all this lot, my back wasn't feeling very good and my legs were burning and numb.
(both at once = another MS poxymoron. MS does what it likes)
I've done the spliff; I've done the heat massage; I've done the anti-inflammatories thing. I even thought about doing the Baileys thing but that seemed a bit of a waste and I think that if I lie down now I will never stand up again.
I don't give a toss about the grammar.
Why, oh why couldn't it have been shagger's back? My days of bending over backward are long since gone and I'm completely FUBAR.
Wise-up here.
To top it all off, Nushie has this big titty/blossoming/cuddly thing going on, which would be totally normal if she had been mated last heat. But theoretically she wasn't. Perhaps the hot wee bitch had herself a bit of the wild thing with Boof, unassisted.
Oh well. I did kinda want one more litter, in a quiet, sneaky sort of way.
Speaking of all things slutty and sleepless, hands up who remembers Lili Von Shtupp?
(also known as Madeline Kahn)
Now, that really was some exceptionally good American comedy.
A wed wose, how womantic - Lili Von Shtupp
:: Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Back in the good old days
I've never found American humour half as funny as British humour. The Brits have wit and an ability to take the piss out of themselves that the Americans seemingly never cottoned on to.
When I was a kid we had people like Eric Sykes and Hattie Jaques, Sid James and The Goons, Monty Python and Alf Garnet to watch and they were more often than not real thigh-slapping, belly-laughing humour; productions such as The Plank and the Carry On movies (all 31 of them), Doctor in the House and Rising Damp/Fall and Rise (etc) of Reginald Perrin, ad infinitum but one of my favourites was The Two Ronnies.
Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker were in a league of their own as comedians in their very aptly named TV show The Two Ronnies.
Nothing was sacred, no concept too silly and each week brought new and serialised sketches bursting with moments of hilarity that stick in the mind like putty - the Phantom Raspberry Blower, the Tea Urn sketches and The Worm That Turned.
After the Two Ronnies ended, Ronnie Barker went on to star in another fine comedy - Open All Hours, where he played the lecherous and tightfisted uncle of a hapless Granville "G-G-G-Granville, f-f-fetch yer c-c-cloth" (played beautifully by David Jason before he became Del Boy in "Only Fools and Horses" and Pa Larkin in "Darling Buds of May") and lusted endlessly after the buxom Nurse Gladys Emmanuel.
Fabulous comedy from fabulous comedians.
Ronnie Barker died yesterday, aged 76. Another bloody good one got away.
So it's good night from me - and it's good night from him. Good night.
When I was a kid we had people like Eric Sykes and Hattie Jaques, Sid James and The Goons, Monty Python and Alf Garnet to watch and they were more often than not real thigh-slapping, belly-laughing humour; productions such as The Plank and the Carry On movies (all 31 of them), Doctor in the House and Rising Damp/Fall and Rise (etc) of Reginald Perrin, ad infinitum but one of my favourites was The Two Ronnies.
Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker were in a league of their own as comedians in their very aptly named TV show The Two Ronnies.
Nothing was sacred, no concept too silly and each week brought new and serialised sketches bursting with moments of hilarity that stick in the mind like putty - the Phantom Raspberry Blower, the Tea Urn sketches and The Worm That Turned.
After the Two Ronnies ended, Ronnie Barker went on to star in another fine comedy - Open All Hours, where he played the lecherous and tightfisted uncle of a hapless Granville "G-G-G-Granville, f-f-fetch yer c-c-cloth" (played beautifully by David Jason before he became Del Boy in "Only Fools and Horses" and Pa Larkin in "Darling Buds of May") and lusted endlessly after the buxom Nurse Gladys Emmanuel.
Fabulous comedy from fabulous comedians.
Ronnie Barker died yesterday, aged 76. Another bloody good one got away.
So it's good night from me - and it's good night from him. Good night.
:: Monday, October 03, 2005
Just a little tongue, baby
Recognise this guy?
If you answered "no" maybe this pic will remind you, (unless you're really crusty and really clueless)
Yes, it's none other than the inimitable Gene Simmons, the revered tongue man of Kiss.
(Cor, that Paul Stanley was a bit of alright *drools*)
Gene Simmons has been playing on our screens for the past couple of weeks at 7pm Saturday night in a TV show filmed in Britain at a private "charity" boarding school called Christ's Hospital. The programme, called "Rock School" if you haven't seen it, is about a group of very "nice" British classically trained young teen musical prodigies being indoctrinated into the concepts of rock'n'roll, individuality, free expression and rock star arrogance, something Mr Simmons is quite happy to admit he has in plenty.
*gasp*
How's that for a bit of grammatical misadventure.
Sooo, it's a bit of culture shock for some of these incredibly rigid little twits that are in his class. Many of them are too busy screeching how disgusting, wild and lacking in any musical worth or integrity what he is presenting to them really is to actually take on board that music doesn't have to come out of a violin or classical piano to be called music. They just don't want to know.
They aren't too impressed with his assertations that he has slept with well in excess of 4000 women, either.
A couple of the kids are quite open minded about it all, even talented in guitar and drums, but others seem to have a problem with their top lip curling up at the very thought of being loud, boisterous or making a spectacle of themselves. Their deputy head mistress isn't any better, although she did manage to untwist her knickers a bit when he played "God gave rock and roll to you" as a solo in the school chapel.
Mainly because he sang about God. She said it fitted in with the culture of the establishment, or something like that.
I wonder if these kids mothers smacked their bare legs to make them practice their instrument?
It makes one wonder how these people breathe with their heads stuck so far up their asses. Mind you, it's not so hard to understand when you consider the school still dresses its students in the same uniform they wore 450 years ago.
Yeah, they look cool, but sheeit.
You can Wiki-up on the Bluecoat Christ's Hospital here.
PS
Shame Mark hasn't got any of these down at the wildlife park
they'd be a crowd-puller.
If you answered "no" maybe this pic will remind you, (unless you're really crusty and really clueless)
Yes, it's none other than the inimitable Gene Simmons, the revered tongue man of Kiss.
(Cor, that Paul Stanley was a bit of alright *drools*)
Gene Simmons has been playing on our screens for the past couple of weeks at 7pm Saturday night in a TV show filmed in Britain at a private "charity" boarding school called Christ's Hospital. The programme, called "Rock School" if you haven't seen it, is about a group of very "nice" British classically trained young teen musical prodigies being indoctrinated into the concepts of rock'n'roll, individuality, free expression and rock star arrogance, something Mr Simmons is quite happy to admit he has in plenty.
*gasp*
How's that for a bit of grammatical misadventure.
Sooo, it's a bit of culture shock for some of these incredibly rigid little twits that are in his class. Many of them are too busy screeching how disgusting, wild and lacking in any musical worth or integrity what he is presenting to them really is to actually take on board that music doesn't have to come out of a violin or classical piano to be called music. They just don't want to know.
They aren't too impressed with his assertations that he has slept with well in excess of 4000 women, either.
A couple of the kids are quite open minded about it all, even talented in guitar and drums, but others seem to have a problem with their top lip curling up at the very thought of being loud, boisterous or making a spectacle of themselves. Their deputy head mistress isn't any better, although she did manage to untwist her knickers a bit when he played "God gave rock and roll to you" as a solo in the school chapel.
Mainly because he sang about God. She said it fitted in with the culture of the establishment, or something like that.
I wonder if these kids mothers smacked their bare legs to make them practice their instrument?
It makes one wonder how these people breathe with their heads stuck so far up their asses. Mind you, it's not so hard to understand when you consider the school still dresses its students in the same uniform they wore 450 years ago.
Yeah, they look cool, but sheeit.
You can Wiki-up on the Bluecoat Christ's Hospital here.
PS
Shame Mark hasn't got any of these down at the wildlife park
they'd be a crowd-puller.
:: Sunday, October 02, 2005
Shoot to kill
Those lowlife scumbags have been letting off bombs again, Bali this time.
Nasty bastards.
What are they going to do when their country is economically crippled by the lack of tourist $$? Dumb fucks, then they will probably want aid from the westerners the Islamist extremists they harbour so thoroughly despise.
Nasty bastards.
What are they going to do when their country is economically crippled by the lack of tourist $$? Dumb fucks, then they will probably want aid from the westerners the Islamist extremists they harbour so thoroughly despise.
:: Saturday, October 01, 2005
Blog strikes a ripper note
I was cruising through Gramyre's blog (it's over there in the links, the Feral Atomicans) and there was this link to this other blog and it's a hoot and I just had to share it.
Especially with you, Mark, cos it's about clowns. I could have emailed it, but then I wouldn't have anything to post here, and that would be too much like a treat for all you buggers and we can't have that, now, can we?
Anyhooo, the site is called "the internet sex blog" and it's all these phony, bizarre personal ads, but this link is to an advert looking for a man that "enjoys being fucked by a girl in a clown suit".
That's the girl wearing the clown suit, not the bloke. She likes to wear a strap-on, too.
There is some funny stuff in the replies;
"So here I am thinking I'm the only person who wants to screw a clown. Seriously though people always laugh when I tell them I want to bone a hot chick clown."
"Oh my g-d, it's my dream come true... there is an office near me where clowns work and I have developed a secret fetish for the clown outfit, especially when worn by a curvy woman (funny and sexy at the same time)."
Well, you get the picture.
Disclaimer: this post in no way implies, infers or states outright that Mark enjoys being fucked by a girl in a clown suit; any reference to him is purely in the context that, as he is the man in the clown suit that Caroline took home after the Circus 20 plus years ago, he might enjoy a little virtual clowning around, in the spirit of the genre.
Strap-ons optional.
Especially with you, Mark, cos it's about clowns. I could have emailed it, but then I wouldn't have anything to post here, and that would be too much like a treat for all you buggers and we can't have that, now, can we?
Anyhooo, the site is called "the internet sex blog" and it's all these phony, bizarre personal ads, but this link is to an advert looking for a man that "enjoys being fucked by a girl in a clown suit".
That's the girl wearing the clown suit, not the bloke. She likes to wear a strap-on, too.
There is some funny stuff in the replies;
"So here I am thinking I'm the only person who wants to screw a clown. Seriously though people always laugh when I tell them I want to bone a hot chick clown."
"Oh my g-d, it's my dream come true... there is an office near me where clowns work and I have developed a secret fetish for the clown outfit, especially when worn by a curvy woman (funny and sexy at the same time)."
Well, you get the picture.
Disclaimer: this post in no way implies, infers or states outright that Mark enjoys being fucked by a girl in a clown suit; any reference to him is purely in the context that, as he is the man in the clown suit that Caroline took home after the Circus 20 plus years ago, he might enjoy a little virtual clowning around, in the spirit of the genre.
Strap-ons optional.
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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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