:: Friday, March 31, 2006

..and Justice for all


I'm not going to comment on the big news of the day, but if I was going to comment, I would comment about the verdict in the Louise Nicholas V Clint Rickards/Brad Shipton/Bob Schollum historical rape courtcase that has consumed the country for the past 2 and a 1/2 weeks.

But as I said, I'm not going to comment on it. Cos I'm too damn pissed about the outcome to do it justice without potentially breaching a few court orders.

And that would be silly.

Lucky I'm not going to comment, innit?






:: Thursday, March 30, 2006

Paging David Rhodes


I'm sick with a cold. The kids are, too.

I hate colds. Sometimes when I get sick, I get a little grouchy, you know? And then I tend to be a little more forthright than my usual calm and diplomatic self is. And then I sort of stop suffering fools too gladly and lean more towards telling it like it is.

I received a David Rhodes chain letter in the mail the other day. You can always tell before you open then what they are - they sort of ooze bovine stuff through the envelope. Anyway, instead of getting the name off it, returning to sender at the address and writing "This is illegal, I'm going to send it to Internal Affairs" on it, this time I looked the person up in the phone book and found their number and rang them. Imagine my delight in getting an answering machine, all primed and ready to take my message.

I said:
"I have received a David Rhodes chain letter from S. Adams at this address
15 *h*c*e*t* Place. These are illegal so I will be forwarding yours to Internal Affairs".

I hope they liked their message. I've had over 50 of these chainletter thingies; I think it's getting a little bit OTT now. Unless, of course, you're NZPost. That's why I send them back, because NZPost don't make any money off return to sender. Besides, they rip us off enough on postage costs for everything we buy on Trade Me.







:: Wednesday, March 29, 2006

A Minor issue


Txt bullying has been big news for the past few weeks after a young girl took her own life after being bullied by a group of peers via her cellphone in Putaruru. And while bullying is as old as people, our technology keeps coming up with better and more expansive ways for those who want to bully to be able to do it. Kids are now playing with the grown-up's toys.

Whilst H hasn't been bullied by txt (as far as I know) I have had cause for alarm on performing my random mother's monitoring of her MSN contacts following her telling me she was chatting on MSN to a friend of her best friend Jennifer, who is male and 19. That's when the alarm bells start ringing as to what she is up to on the net when the door is shut, especially after watching the TV show late last year(?) on paedophiles "grooming" kids for sexual encounters. Then, tis afternoon, Jennifer abused Adam on the computer, thinking H was logged in to MSN and the camel's back went "snap".

So I opened up the message conversations saved on the kids' PC and although I found no issues with her conversation with the 19 year old (and she hadn't spoken to him again since I said she shouldn't), I did have issues with the way her so-called best friend who has just moved to Napier was talking to her, giving her a great deal of grief, calling her nasty names and generally acting like the unpleasant and troublesome girl we already suspected she was.

And I dealt with her. I added her to my MSN and when she came online the conversation went like this:

Jennifer: Hi
Me: do you know who I am?
Jennifer: umm.....nope sorri
Me: I am Heather's mother and I have been reading the white trash crap you send to my daughter, and the message you left Adam when he was on the computer. I have had enough of the nasty, disgusting crap that you message and its about time you stop this horrible version of text bullying or you will be banned from ANY contact. Got it???
Jennifer: oh sorri i wont do it again
Me: you should be utterly disgusted with your language, your behaviour and your attitude. Damn straight you won't do it again.
Jennifer: plz dnt cut me off frm heather
Me: Now GROW UP you silly little girl.


/end rark up

Now, I know they are 15 and only sort of kids, but what I cannot believe is that a 15 year old didn't know that the things she types to H about what she would like to do to her 19 year old 'boyfriend' (who supposedly lives in Hawaii *rolls eyes*) and the names she calls her best friend and the things she says to total strangers in chat with her and H are very wrong.

But she sure as hell does now and Heather followed it up with a lesson in assertive cyber-safety.

The fact that H took her mother's 'interfering' totally in her stride with no bitching at all tells me everything about how she felt after these conversations and when she apologised to her, H made it very clear that she was not too concerned with how Jen felt and that she wasn't interested in being spoken to like that ever again. And if she ever does, I have her mother's phone number and will explain her daughter's pedigree to her, in full.

Heather 10 points for maturity and attitude and not sinking to Jennifer's level in retailiation; Jen minus 5 points for acting like a nasty, spiteful slapper despite having spent enough time in this house to know it is unacceptable here.

And as for those kids who bullied the Putaruru girl via txt, they should publicise all their names and let them see how much popularity they carry around after that and bugger the issue of them being minors.






:: Monday, March 27, 2006

Wati ya doin' here


Cyclone Wati has been creeping down the Tasman Sea and though downgraded from Cyclone status has made its presence felt here tonight with a burst of torrential rain that saw the laundry, Heather's room, a bit of Adam's room and some of the back hallway once more under water thanks to the neighbours fucking eucalyptus tree whose roots have raised the slope of the driveway a tad, changing the drainage and once more sent all their runoff down our driveway in a vast sheet of water and through one end of my house when the stormwater drain can't keep up with the volume (it actually looks quite cool and I'd take a pic if it wasn't dark and, like, pouring with rain and my house wasn't, like, flooding and stuff).

So the driveway barricade now in place, the worst of the mess has finally been mopped up and the rest can wait until tomorrow and the rain has stopped for now. Both kids have been forced to camp out in the lounge because their rooms are all but uninhabitable until they dry out a bit. Adam is getting a cold and losing his voice so I'm sure his efforts in the rain tonight will contribute to that situation. AND I missed "Hannibal" on TV.

Just fucking charming.

Poor bastards in Queensland.

In the meantime, here is Merlin basking in the sporadic sunshine this afternoon. I should have dunked him in a bucket of soapy water and mopped the car with him, ready for the Power Rinse cycle tonight.



Lazy shit.

In fact, I could go out and do that right now ready for the next downpour - then it won't rain again. Murphy's Law. And Flatty can't give me shit cos it's filthy.






:: Sunday, March 26, 2006

Duh me


Silly me, I don't half feel stupid. All this time I thought the news reports of poverty and disease and starving children in India was real when all the time it was a cunning ploy by the media to cover the fact that India actually has enough money in the kitty to pay to host the Commonwealth Games in Delhi in 2010.

I guess all those Indian taxi drivers who can't speak adequate english and drive like complete lunatics can go home now and India won't be needing international aid packages any more.

God Bless the Commonwealth :-D

And while listening to the closing ceremony for the 2006 games in Melbourne on TV as we speak, it has once more been made incredibly obvious how little class Australia has from their inclusion of Dame Edna Everidge singing some incredibly awful dirge about Melbourne on a show being broadcast internationally. Can you say "laughing stock"? Now John Farnham is screeching outside his elderly vocal range and he ain't looking OR sounding too damn hot, either. Nothing like rehashing your Glory Days in front of an audience who remembers what you used to look/sound like to turn the show into a farce. Bring back Little River Band - all is forgiven.

Now the programme has ended and there is a bunch of gratuitous wanking going on attempting to praise the high calibre of the performances tonight. Oh dear.

Where the hell is Jimmy Barnes when ya need him, hmmm?






:: Friday, March 24, 2006

Foil


More tinfoil, just for Tobi.

For those who don't know the story...

"July 1999
A certain chat buddy in Washington State, told a certain chat buddy in New York State that he had a new program could track her via satellite, telling her the " window " had to be just right, and tinfoil was reflective and would bounce radio waves , it took him 3 days to set her up, had her mapping routes even and culminated in her standing in her front yard for 5 minutes draped in TIN FOIL. Eventually the poor thing realised he was taking the piss and she had been set up."



Tobi just said on MSN "lmao... damn foil", so there it is, just for you ;-)

Now it's 1.37am and H is throwing up in the loo. I don't think it's tinfoil related.






:: Thursday, March 23, 2006

Just keeping abreast


Ads and I just attended his parent teacher interview with his new teacher, it's the first time I have seen her. The woman looks 45 if she's a day with a couple of very prominent DD boobs and is wearing a tight-fitting, low cut red stretchy top with the massive mammaries' cleavage prominently displayed while she leans forward over a student desk throughout the interview. Adam says she often dresses that way and believe me, it's really not a pretty sight.

Still can't for the life of me figure out how a teacher expects full attention from a bunch of early-pubescent boys with her tits on display like that. What happened to appropriate professional dress in the workplace? Even the tech tutors never dressed like that and they work in an adult environment where at least it might be considered less inappropriate.

Definitely par for the course that we have come to expect from Tauranga Intermediate, standards-wise though.

Sad.

We are still waiting for their administration to do something about kids bikes being tampered with in the bike compound - Adam has had some 20 odd punctures and/or deflations this school year alone. I was thinking he was doing it himself, but now Im not quite so sure - his tyres were up when I picked him up from school yesterday (I was there before the bell went and had "staked out", camera in hand the bike area albeit with Adam's help cos he sprung me whilst out on an errand for his teacher) but another kid had a flat tyre on the rear wheel and it happens to other kids, too. I told Ads that he should, on any day, assume that I'm hiding in one of the hiding places that I have spotted, taking pics of his bike at end of school. Funnily enough, the school just installed security cameras around the campus to curb bullying incidents within the school but they neglected to put one in the bike compound despite being aware for at least 8 months that there is a problem there.

Tauranga Intermediate School is no better at dealing with bullying and property destruction issues now than it was 30 odd years ago when Rae and I were there. But they have the same sort of useless administrative leadership now as they did then, too. Why do I have to go to these lengths to protect my kid's property?

Nothing changes, it seems, just the faces.






:: Tuesday, March 21, 2006

MS You


My MS peeps have all gone - Lyn's gone funny, Meron's gone quiet, Gramyre has gone to ground and I've gone to Hell.

Fuck you, you nasty little disease.







:: Monday, March 20, 2006

Happy as Larry


People in northern Queensland aren't very happy as Larry tonight cos Tropical Cyclone Larry made landfall there today bearing category 5 winds and trailing a tidal surge in its wake.

More bite than Hurricane Katrina which destroyed half of New Orleans a few months ago killing 1422, more punch than Cyclone Tracy did 30 years ago, some parts of Queensland were not the best place to be today, especially those near the water. But while Tracey killed 71 people, Larry doesn't appear to have killed anyone. Just the local economy, many of the homes, schools and trees.


No school in Innisfail tomorrow

That's some lucky shit, that is.

Funnily enough, on the same webpage as the devastation was unfolding was an advertisement for a new apartment complex built on the water



I bet they sold lots of them today.






:: Sunday, March 12, 2006

Lament for George


George liked making things.

He was very good at it, indeed he had spent most of his life creating little inventions, the true virtue of which was usually only known to himself. For instance, as a child he developed and implemented a little device for the disposal of vegetables at the dinner table. It consisted of a flattened funnel which was connected to a long, wide tube, the bottom of which was tied to his leg and the top to his waistand. A quick flick of the wrist and those pesky peas were gone from sight. Unfortunately, it didn't stand up so well to a hot cup of cocoa and neither did young George. He mothballed it until a better idea came along.

George liked to collect things. Small things that could be used to build his inventions. He combed garage sales and Op-shops, manufacturer's rubbish skips and loose change shops in his search for things he didn't know he wanted until he saw them. Lying there, waiting just for him. But no matter how hard he searched, he could not find the one thing he wanted - a marketable invention, one that would bring him fame and fortune.

He decided that some market research was called for and so set forth to find out what people wished they had, wished someone would make that they could buy. He went to church functions and movie theatres, bowling clubs and village fairs but nowhere did he hear of one special thing that could be invented and launch him as the successful inventor he knew he should be.

One day, as he sat glumly in the park watching the caretaker pick up rubbish with a spring loaded, pointy sticking-type stick (he'd invented that, you know, out of dressmaking pins and Bic biros, back in 1957) he overheard a conversation between two young women sitting on the next bench. Their conversation led George to believe that what women the world over wanted (well, those with toilet seats) was an easy way of getting men to put the toilet seat down. George was astounded by this sudden input of knowledge and set off home in a rush, his mind overflowing with ideas of a new product that was sure to be a hit with at least 50% of the population.


He sat at his desk and he sketched and he drew, made notations and measurements and after only 9 days had the plans drawn up for a prototype remote operated toilet seat. He knew this one would be a winner. He just knew it. The principle was simple - equip an ordinary toilet seat with a small but very powerful motor that would lift the seat rapidly up and down at the clap of the hands, even from two rooms away. One clap to raise it (so the men wouldn't have to work too hard) and three claps to lower it (because women don't mind repeating themselves).

It was perfect.

Not only George thought so. The first lawyer he consulted smiled warmly as he insisted on helping George patent this great idea, all for a measly 40% holding in the new company he assured George he would have to form. George was gobsmacked - here was someone who though his idea was good!

And so it was. After much media hype and adulation from the scientific and engineering communities, the day of the prototype's public unveiling finally arrived and 5,000 people wathed from the packed audience as George took centre stage to demonstrate this wonderful new invention. He clapped once and the seat raised as if by magic, he clapped three times and the lid quickly and efficiently lowered itself. George repeated the performance a dozen times, then he clapped once more and sat primly upon his new throne to await the audiences reaction.

There was a stunned silence, then as one they rose and applauded his genius and as they did so the seat flapped up and down, up and down so fast it was almost a blur. George was pounded into a small, toilet bowl shaped lump of bleeding meat and Death came very quickly.

The subsequent Coroner's inquest found that George died of the clap.






:: Friday, March 10, 2006

Ooooh nasty


Things to do with a cheating ex's belongings #231

The eBay way.

She didn't leave anything of great value.






:: Thursday, March 09, 2006

Houston, we have a problem


Countdown aborted at T minus 8 days



Bugger.






:: Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Sinister


Approximately 10% of the population is sinistral. That means left handed.

So why does a popular laundry powder manufacturer make their boxes in a fashion that favours these sinister southpaws on first opening? Are they just trying to piss off the rest of us?

Cos it's working...

9

Single digits, Flatty. Did you parcel arrive today?






:: Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Making cense


Tonight is Census night. All over the country people are filling in their census forms. Except those who did their's online and those who forgot and those who never received any and those who refuse for whatever reason they think Big Brother is watching You.

Oh well.

10






:: Monday, March 06, 2006

Here Puss Puss


This is a Japanese stuffed toy cat.



No wonder Fatima's Mummy and Daddy though she was cute; they are used to wierd looking pets back home.

11






:: Sunday, March 05, 2006

"I fake orgasm for jewellery"


No, actually I don't fake orgasm for anything but I had a black t-shirt with that printed on it in bright pink. Mark probably remembers that. It certainly gave me a giggle when I wore it. But that's beside the point right now.

Flatty? You were visitor #4500 today. Congratulations.

I bet you didn't think there was a prize for that, hmmm?

Good, cos there isn't. I'm just yanking ya chain.

I'm tricky like that.

That's 4500 views / 514 days... ahhhh shit, YOU do the math.

12






:: Saturday, March 04, 2006

Para site quackery


para-1 or par-
pref.

1. Beside; near; alongside: parathyroid.
2. Beyond: paranormal.
3. Incorrect; abnormal: paresthesia.
4. Similar to; resembling: paratyphoid fever.
5. Subsidiary; assistant: paraprofessional.
6. Isomeric; polymeric: paraldehyde.
7. A diatomic molecule in which the nuclei have opposite spin directions: parahydrogen.
8. Of or relating to one of three possible isomers of a benzene ring with two attached chemical groups in which the carbon atoms with attached groups are separated by two unsubstituted carbon atoms: para-aminobenzoic acid.

quack2
n.

1. An untrained person who pretends to be a physician and dispenses medical advice and treatment.
2. A charlatan; a mountebank.

adj.
Relating to or characteristic of a quack: a quack cure.

intr.v. quacked, quack·ing, quacks
To act as a medical quack or a charlatan.

[Short for quacksalver.]
quacker·y n.
quackish adj.
quackish·ly adv.

Guess which one this post is about. Go on, just try.

Well, actually it's about both cos they seem to go really well together. And yes, this is a sort of reprise of a post I made a few months ago. I never said I didn't repeat myself occasionally.

Quack - untrained person who pretends to be a physician and dispenses medical advice and treatment
Para - Near; beyond; resembling; assistant; another 4 good words that go nicely with quackery. Eh.

I attended the opening for Deb's new healing rooms last night and as I expected there were a few representatives for varying disciplines of complementary or alternative health practices. But one stood out in my vision as someone representing something I ranted about earlier - complementary (or the less acceptable word, alternative) medicine and in this case, the sellers thereof.

This has gotta be a major growth industry, dunnit? All those myriad (cool word that, myriad... it's right up there with panoply) little bottles of potions and pills, all proclaiming their own unique and natural importance in the fight to be healthy in this modern world.

And mostly being sold and/or recommended by people who have no medical training, in shops boasting cool crystals and geodes and nice herbal smellies and maybe the odd interesting orthotic device that carries the caution "Read the user manual before operating".

Those ones scare me.

Anyway, last night this purveyor was there and he was talking about the daughter of a doctor who had consulted with him (the daughter, not the doctor) and had told him what she was feeling and how he had offered her some more symptoms that she was suffering and was able to tell her, just like that, what was wrong with her and why hadn't her doctor father done that? and I thought to myself "you arrogant prat".

I know, that was norty of me wasn't it. But at least I didn't say it out loud.

Then I had this discussion with Deb on the phone today when she rang to tell me about something she read in her new book about the symptoms of food allergies and how Adam had three items in this list of shitloads things that he could have if he was allergic to something he was eating. I wasn't particularly receptive, pointing out that this sort of self disgnostic activity was at the very thickest end of the wedge to over compensate for every little physical foible without having any clear guideposts as how to accurately and effectively achieve the identification of a food allergy without going completely fucking nuts in the process. And taking into consideration that all three of Adam's health issues are very similar, almost identical to the things that bothered me at the same age.

Maybe I had food allergies, too? Or maybe I was just exhibiting things common to many kids at that age and so is he.

Or words to that effect.

The gist of the point of the conversation was that 1) I had no faith in any branch of alternative therapy provided by people armed with no credentials, no qualifications trotting out propaganda-ish information provided by people armed with research findings sometimes? frequently? unknown and/or unaccepted by the Western medical community, with an eye to making a buck. A quick one cos this shit ain't cheap. And 2) I don't think muscle stress testing diagnostics is anything more than another piece of quackery. Especially at $50/hr.

These people aren't doctors. Not even pretend ones. But they know what's wrong with you and they know what's good to help fix it.

I still think that they are dangerous.

13






:: Friday, March 03, 2006

#


14






:: Thursday, March 02, 2006

Gunner


I was gunna write some emails tonight cos I am overdue writing and replying to emails to damn near everybody.

But not to them what sent me those rehashed gut-spiller chain mails doing the rounds this week. Cos, you know, I have about 4 different ones here that all demand filling in and sending to other poor schmucks and you know how I hate that spam forward shite and all the associated ills it encourages.

Almost as much as I hate dropping the facade.


And what with watching Gary Sinise



on TV (drool) and that hunky David Boreanaz straight after'



(the suit-slut wins again) I sort of ended up trashed and forgot to write anything. Except this.

I always maintained that TV watching blows ya brain cells.

Ground Control to Major Tom

We're commencing countdown:



15 Days to liftoff.

Are ya getting excited yet, Flatty?