merry christmas? screw you..

Bah bloody humbug..

Actually my Christmas shopping (as always at the very last minute: I can't shop without a deadline) went relatively well this year. Well, I think so now; but the recipients of the presents will probably furnish me with a bewildered "thanks...?" and a 'what-the-fuck?' look. That's what Christmas is all about to me: wasting money on useless crap. God bless us, one and all.

Anyway, props to my girl-friday Eroica for getting me through the horror of shopping today. Cheers babe, next year I might even buy something for you!

Anyway, here are a few Xmas themed links:

D's London shopping expedition.

Those Catalonians are a bunch of freaky weirdos.

Pornolize your favourite felching xmas carol. Asslicker.

And a Scaryduck Christmas Tale. Although there's probably going to be a trouser-soilingly funny story up there tomorrow anyway.

Right, I'm off to bed: need to be well rested for all the eating and drinking I've got planned for tomorrow. I'll recap my NZ visit and all the babies I managed to avoid holding at a later date.

the Christmas spirit

In New Zealand. Having fun. Drinking too much. Will blog more later.

Meanwhile: Vote Chris Christmas Rodriguez to replace Santa!

bollocks to this:

I'm off to New Zealand.

Adios amigos!

Or in the native parlance: spot ya later bro.

workin' hard for the man..

I've had an impressively slack day today.

I was over an hour late for work (not that anyone noticed) and it wasn't long after I'd settled in to sending email to friends and reading the newspaper that we had the Christmas lunch for our team (go Team Death!). This involved much scarfing down of junk food and general slacking around for an hour or so.

A brief interlude of work then punctuated the general slothfulness.

But fortunately I had to go out for lunch with the IT boys, or The Disciples, as we call them (there are 12 of them but that's where the similarity breaks down - I didn't say it was a *good* nickname did I?). Which involved a kickarse Thai chicken salad and a few well-earned G&Ts. Ok, I didn't earn them today but I'm sure at some point in the past I'd accrued enough G&T-in-lieu points to redeem them on such a beautiful sunny day.

An hour & a half or so later we wandered merrily (considerably more merry in a few cases) back to work. Where, in a frenzy of gin and Protestant work ethic guilt fueled activity, I actually achieved a few things.

Fortunately I didn't have to sustain the level of intensity for long before it was time for afternoon tea put on by one of the agencies. Which involved some more slothing around eating expensive foods and generally wasting company time.

After that was siesta time: drooped at my desk trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to keep my eyes open or at least not drool on the keyboard. Not for the first time am I glad I've got an office to myself in one of the less populated areas of the building.

Tomorrow I'm taking a blanket and a pillow.

Before anyone calls my professionalism into account, and to illustrate what an abominably easy job I do, in the very little time I actually spent working today I still managed to fulfill my 'quota' and answer several dozen inane questions from my workmates. Yes, I am a legend.

hot enough for ya?

Work is closed today due to a 'chemical reaction' (I've no idea - will investigate).

Yay! Paid day off!

Downside: it's 38 degrees right now and I don't have air conditioning.

I'm melllltiiiinngggg....

danger danger

This fucking country is trying to kill me. I swear it.

It seems that everything here wants to eat me. And not in the good way.

The other night, whist performing my regular karma-leveling rodent rescue (or feline fun deprivation as Griffin would have it) I was viciously attacked by a caterpillar. That's right: a fucking caterpillar!

The sonofabitch lept out of a tree onto my neck and tried to sink his gummy little fangs into me. Bastard. So I used up the cosmic brownie-points gained in the mouse-catch-and-release program by squishing the little larval bastard's ass..

Not before the damage was done, however: I have the worst itchy, stinging neck where he rasped his poisonous hairy belly over me.

Don't come to Australia: it'll try to kill ya. If the sharks, crocs, spiders, snakes, scorpions, spiders, jellyfish, dingos, and spiders don't get you the evil butterfly spawn will.

But the spiders will probably get you.

Did I mention the spiders?

bomb the bass

I've always been a huge fan of the bass. Even back when I had adolescent daydreams about being in a band it was always the bass I was playing. Not just that I'm not a front-man kinda guy, I just love the bass sounds. Of course I never learnt to play - that would require having some musical talent in my poor clumsy fingers. I love the music though: twanging deep notes, slide swoops, thrumming grooves.. to me it's the instrument that holds the heart of the song: not in the pounding chest-thumping way drums do, but the throbbing flow like blood through the arteries.

Anyway, I'll not bore you with my adoration of Les Claypool and wanting to have his monstrously weird, polydactylian, genius children. Have a read of this Stylus round-up of 50 best basslines (always a subjective thing, but I agree with many of their choices if not entirely the ranking).

Choice excerpts:

"...a nasty wallet stealing bastard of a bassline..." - 'Hallelujah', Happy Mondays
"...the man most likely to play everything in a slapthafuckouttait style." - about Flea (of course)
"...a prowling, unstoppable slither of mystery and horror." - 'Would?', Alice In Chains
"...giving room for Fred Thomas' sublimely simple, impossibly earth-shattering four-note bassline to pour pure liquid pleasure into your brittle, brittle bones." - 'Make It Funky', James Brown
"So magic that even Vanilla Ice couldn't fuck it up." - do I need to tell you which song?

a rat by any other name...

On more inspection of the captive rodent s/he's been upgraded to rat status.

Jen suggested it's a Norwegian Hooded rat (I bow to your ratspertese, never having owned a rodent myself - although I did have a girlfriend who had a rat called Strangely Brown..). Not knowing any Norwegian phrases I can't test this - although I do work with someone who knows Swedish so I'll see if he knows how to say "excuse me sir or madam but what species are you?". It must be a common one in all the phrase books.

Many thanks for the myriad of interesting names you've all suggested. I particularly like Agamemnon, Teufel (devil-rat, how appropriate), Spanks, and Elvis but the one that wins out is Claire's ludicrous suggestion. Please welcome Cuntytitwank McFuckbollocks-Arsemunch. CMA to his friends or when any kids are around.

In other news: there's been a lot of traffic through my quiet corner of the interweb lately, thanks in large to a random linkage from Samantha Burns. God knows why. If you're looking for interesting stuff try the blogroll on the right there, I can't write for shit but have great taste in those that can.

So I'd like to say 'Hi!' and 'Welcome!' to you all. But that's really not me. So I'll stick to hollering at y'all, curmudgeonly-like, from my porch:

Get off my lawn you damn kids!

*turns on the sprinklers*

name my mouse

He's a little camera shy..

Current favourite suggestion: Garry.
Runner up: Elvis.

Any other ideas?

crack my head open & scoop out the gooey centre

Email is such a wonderful idea, but in reality I find it just as hard as papery lettery things to write and even harder to send. Because the other person is usually much better at replying and so I get an email really quickly which means I have to try and grind out another one in reply or the guilt becomes unbearable.

Well, unbearable up till about 3 months and then it's just a dull shameful ache..

I'm so crap at keeping in touch. I have several really really good friends who I've not emailed/written to in over 2 years.. Or even seen or spoken to them in that time.

I wonder if they're still good friends.

Unfortunately that's the way I am. I can not see someone for years and then just pick up the friendship again. Or at least try to, try to find out who they are now and if I like them. Most often I still do - people do change but there's a centre that always stays the same.

As long as the friendship was built around interlocking facets of your inner workings then the friendship will remain. Sometimes I find that the friendship was just a peripheral thing, not connected to the people that you are at the core. Then it's just like meeting a stranger, finding the person inside and seeing if there's a fit. Sometimes there is, sometimes there isn't. Sometimes I just can't find the person underneath.

Sometimes I can't bring myself to open myself, reveal my personality. Often nothing to do with the other person but to do with my own internal battles and neuroses.

I wonder how many of my friends have given up on me over the years due to lack of contact and, when they do happen, the unsatisfying meetings we have.

I never stop thinking about people.

Lovers, friends, acquaintances, flatmates, workmates, randoms.

All the people who I've at some stage connected with. I think about them, I wonder what they're doing now. I even sometimes make half-arsed attempts at contact.

An email started, never finished. A couple of pages of a letter. A card, bought for a birthday, never sent. A compilation cd made on a whim.

Almost never do I get any further.

Not because I don't want to send whatever it was that made me think of them, or that I lose interest. More that I start to doubt the relevance of anything I'd have to say. The appropriateness of a gift. Whether the humour in the card is what they'd find funny now.
Whether they have anything resembling my taste in music anymore.

So I stop.

The letter/email/whatever stops.

And sits.

Becomes yet another in the pile of unfinished correspondence that I can't finish yet can't throw away.

Because that would be admitting defeat, that wouldn't be an end or a finishing. It would mean a return to the beginning. But not a clean, start-over beginning. A beginning already tainted by apologies and explanations and excuses. Weasel words.

And shame.

...

And now I've run out of words to finish this.

confession

This has been on my conscience too long, I hate keeping things from you..

I've been stepping out on you:

I've got another blog.

This is still blog numero uno, I just needed somewhere else to post junk and the things that I come up with at work. So it's a somewhat more regularly updated blog but of much more questionable quality.

Meh. Make up your own minds.

Come one, come all to The Third Drawer Down.

R.I.P. Rod Donald, a tragedy and a sad loss to New Zealand.

louse mouse

So my cat, the great and fearless cockroach (and occasionally grasshopper) hunter, has stepped up his game a little. The other night he caught a mouse.

Now I've had cats for forever: Griffin is the 5th cat I've personally owned or, more accurately, the fifth that I've been indentured to. Cats don't have owners. As is evidenced by my former cat Livingston more than happily taking over ruling the burgeoning Splark & Kurly family.

(As an aside: Splarky & Kurly are my lovely friends who are pregnant again. Which means that since Splarky for some unknown *ha!* reason picked up the nickname 'Satan' at some stage in his checkered career, Kurly is now carrying the Antichrist. Jeez Splark, I always suspected you'd destroy the world someday but I was thinking something a lot less traditional..)

But I digress.

Where was I?

Griffin. Mouse. Yes.

So he brought this wee beast in the other night, acting all proud of himself. We duly rescued said rodent from his frothing jaws and found it a box in which to huddle out it's last breaths. If you've had a cat you'll have had to administer the coup de grace to various birds, mice, rats, guinea pigs, rabbits, et al (remind me to tell you about the chinchilla sometime..) when they're brought in coughing their last. It's never pleasant. This one was, I thought, on his last legs so I opted for the less grisly 'put him in a box and toss out the body in the morning' method. Besides it looked like it'd been a pet mouse (pictures to follow) and wasn't acting afraid of humans so it was easier to just contain him (excuses excuses - lets face it, I'm just a softy).

The only problem was that in the morning he was chirpy and right as rain. Damn survivor.

Now I have a pet mouse.

Fucksticks.

Addendum: It appears that Griffin's hunting progression up the evolutionary chain has taken a dive: tonight he proudly brought in a leaf.

fishboy's totally drunk and speedy top ten

Apologies for the nonsensical nature of this post. It's been an interesting night.

Apropos of nothing:

1. Radio #1 - Air
2. Wrapped Up in Books - Belle and Sebastian
3. Drive - Bic Runga
4. I Am - Moving Units
5. Mr E's Beautiful Blues - Eels
6. Take Your Partner By The Hand - Howie B
7. Bug Powder Dust - Bomb the Bass
8. NYC - Interpol
9. He War - Cat Power
10. Untogether - Belly

Sleep well.

don't blame me, I voted for Kodos

So we've got a government eh? By we I mean New Zealand (the royal 'we'), I don't really consider myself sufficiently part of Australia to comfortably include the 25-odd million people here in a two letter word. Perhaps in a slightly longer word.. but no, I'm being uncharitable, some of my best friends are Australians! Honest!

Back to NZ though. Yes, a government has been formed. Or congealed. Deposited even. I'm sure there are much more worthy, erudite and frankly better informed commentaries over at Public Address, No Right Turn, Just Left, FrogBlog, et al. But in any case I'm going to drop my pennies worth. Or five cents now I guess - it being the smallest currency available.

Labour won. Tentative yay! I grew up in a Labour supporting household, and have been a Labour voter in the past (prior to the advent of MMP, when I gained a choice). So some of my sympathies lie there. And I grudgingly like Helen, even if she can be far too damn authoritarian for my liking (I have issues with authority figures, as I'm sure I've mentioned many times). She's at least capable and intelligent - and appears to have a soul. Something missing from many other politicians: I think some get it removed before entering office as it tends to get in the way. Most of the rest find theirs dissolving after a few terms.

Anyway, congrats to Labour, credit where it's due. But what the hell happened since the election? I was tentatively expecting a Labour-Progressive-Greens-Maori Party coalition but it seems egos and personalities got in the way of that ever happening. So now we have the prospect of a Labour-New Zealand First-United Future bolt-through-the-neck monster lumbering around scaring the natives (literally) for the next three years.

For fucks sake!

Pseudo-religious right-wingers, racists and xenophobes should rejoice - your lot got into power.

Peter Dunne, the most pointless politician in NZ, is in Government. Dragging in with him his raft of anti-gay, anti-women, anti-tolerance platforms. And as if that's not enough Winston Peters is back! There's a phoenix story for you. And of course he'll be pushing his well-worn wagon full of immigrant hate, iwi-bashing, and youth fear.

Goddamn.

It almost - almost - makes me happy I'm in Australia. Right up until I look at the politicians over here and want to vomit. Ok, so things could be so much worse..

...

Good, that feels better.. I needed to get that out of my system.

I'm not giving up hope yet. I'm just angry at the wheeling and dealing that goes on in politics. Yes, I'm aware that the system we have now is immeasurably preferable to the old FPP days, it still rankles when deals get cut, concessions made and the politicians and parties don't really seem to give a monkeys about what the people actually voted for.

Fuck it. That's life. I'm over it now.

Oh, congrats to the Greens tho - for having a conscience (being the conscience of the whole parliament really), having a solid platform and having the balls to stick to their ideals even if it meant getting passed over again for inclusion in a Government. Go you smelly hippies! :D

sponge bath please

Apparently I'm a superhero!

"Fishboy is a young superhero that appears occasionally. He doesn't seem to have any powers, but he has to stay moist."

I think that's absolutely brilliant.

recap

Yes I've been shit at this blogging malarkey lately. Like my report cards always said: "could try harder".

So, in an effort to prevent the site being declared vacant and squatters moving in here's a brief precis of the last month or so of fishboy life:

After my brush with wrinkle-free death life went back to it's dull humdrumness. It's bollocks that a near death experience changes your life & you get all carpe diem-y: when it comes down to it, we cheat death several times a day just by living in cities. No-one bats an eye at crossing a busy 4 lane road, fully confident in their ability to spring out of the way of huge metal monsters moving more than 20 times faster.

I've seen a couple of movies. Sin City was the full-on visual feast I'd been expecting but, after Mickey Rourke's story (man, he OWNED that film!) the other threads seemed a little anticlimactic. If anything involving Jessica Alba gyrating on stage can be called an anticlimax.. Still ranks as one of the most stunning films a I've seen in a long while, but I'm pinning my hopes to Wallace & Grommet to take out this year's top spot.

Read a couple of good books - and one outstandingly fantastic one. The Scar, by China Mieville. If you have any interest/tolerance for fantasy writing Read.This.Book. That's all. Go now.

Karate has been good - when I've been going. It's 6 months till the grading and my tension levels are already ratcheting up.. Must go throw my sai around this evening.

The big deal: went up to Port Douglas for a wedding. Now that was an experience worth blogging about. And yet.. it's been hard to get the words together. Not sure I can get it all out right now anyway, a lot is still brewing. Or festering.

I did sod-all writing when I was up there, started one letter but didn't even write any postcards. Oops. Ah well, they were all crap up there anyway, such a touristy town.

On the other hand the weather was fantastic, the seas warm and calm, the company great, and the beer plentiful. Met many fascinating bugs and managed to avoid being eaten by any of them. A fantastic time was had, all told.

I went diving on the reef (y'know, the Great Barrier one..) and that's a whole blog entry on it's own.

Oh yeah, the wedding was fab too. Much as I sneer and laugh at weddings (sometimes even throw things) and at the people who do them, this one was about as perfect as they get. I give them at least five years.

Then I came back to Sydney..

Blargh.

I must be allergic to this place: I got sick almost immediately upon going back to work. Took several days off and tried to come to terms with being back in the big stink.

It was a good thing I was home though - my neighbour's backyard (junkyard. I must get a photo of it sometime..) caught fire one afternoon and if I'd not been there to put it out it's quite possible several houses would have gone up. As it is we only lost a banana tree, a few shrubs and a section of the fence.

Since then..? Well, work is about as interesting as Condensed Theoretical Accountancy, 3rd Edition. Weather is improving: a balmy 34 degrees yesterday (that's Celsius, the sensible measurement, for those in North America). Cash flow is as torrential as the rainfall here in Sydney; which leads to: fun activities that cost anything = zero.

Still I have the Internet and a cat. Having exhausted my inspiration with one, I'm off to play with the other.

It's been real. Ciao.

he was so young..

In lieu of actual words and meaning, here's a pic I found lurking on my hard-disk.

adios amoebas

Bollocks to this, I'm off to Port Douglas.

If I survive the sharks, saltwater crocs and jellyfish I'll be back next week.

the zen of buses

I use public transport a lot.

Mostly because driving in this city is a futile and maddening affair, partly because I don't really enjoy driving much, partly because I'm a goddamn hippy and hate to see more of the planet swallowed up by roads, gas-stations, parking spaces and SU-fucking-Vs.

Not at all because I don't actually have a drivers license. Oops. I noticed a month or so ago that my NZ license expired earlier this year and I've so far totally failed to get my Aussie license. Naughty Fishboy.

But back to the buses.

What is it with people who talk on their cellphones on the bus? And why is it that they always talk so LOUD? Do they not understand that buses are a time for relaxation and quiet contemplation: meditation even. All interaction with other people should be shunned at all costs. Even eye contact is best avoided.

Some people choose to read books or the newspaper but we bus purists need not those fripperies. Just gaze out the window and allow the hypnotic rhythms of the bus and soothing honks from the traffic transport you (heh) to a state of mass transit nirvana. Or that's what I tell myself every morning when I'm being thrown around inside a giant cocktail shaker by a deranged, epileptic driver.

If you receive a call on a bus by all means talk. But keep it brief and quiet. The whole bus doesn't need to hear your shrieking gossip about what that skank did at the party on Saturday, or the details of your quarterly finance meeting, or your passive-aggressive argument with your lover.

similarly, if you're on the bus with a friend try to use your 'indoor' voice. If the bus happens to be packed and you're standing somewhat apart with other people between you WAIT till you get OFF the BUS. Don't keep shouting at each other over fellow passengers because they will get VERY annoyed and string you up from the ceiling rails by your daft useless scarf you peroxided HARPY.

Ok, I didn't actually do that but then I'd not had my morning coffee so I was focused mostly on trying to stay awake & upright. But that and several other gruesome scenes sprang to mind. There are a couple of irritating idiots still alive in the world just because I'm not a morning person.

awwww..

Cats in sinks.

That Fraser just keeps getting weirder & weirder. But in a good way.

avert your eyes

Warning, only those with *very* strong stomachs should view this.

This is a serious warning - do NOT blame me if you are offended.

It even makes me ill, every time I look..
but I just can't turn away..

*shudder*

EDIT: Doesn't work anymore, kv took mercy and removed the offending pictures. To those of you who missed it - think yourselves lucky. The images will haunt me for a long, long time..

steal this blog

Honestly. You'd have to make a better fist of it than I am..

But in any case, my rant for the day:

Advertising on the sides of buses. They're kinda the red-headed step-children of billboard adverts.

Often faces of radio 'personalities' showing exactly why they work in radio not on TV, flashy promos for the latest Hollywood crapbuster featuring square-jawed heroes and surgically enhanced heroines, or (my favourite) animated characters with improbably-large-and-gravity-defying-breasts promoting the latest x-box/playstation life-waster. When silicon just isn't enough, use CGI!

My gripe though is with a couple of second-stringer ads. There's this one that purports to be for a shampoo but the fact is that when you look at the picture what springs to mind is "my GOD look at the udders on her!" or similar. Sure I'm speaking from a male perspective here but it takes quite a while for the eye and brain to move onto other parts of the ad. Where it can be spotted that her hair is, yes, somewhat shiny.

But honestly - come on! Her breasts are right smack in the middle, so obviously the central point. I didn't have time to measure the space used but I'm sure there's more breast area than anything else in that pic, including the huge waterfall behind her (because people who bathe in waterfalls always have the best hair, it's a scientific fact). I should have read the fine print, perhaps it was breast enlargement shampoo and I'm slagging it off to no purpose.

Anyway, enough of that one. Oh - hang on, the name of the shampoo was 'Rosetta & Stone' which baffled me. Perhaps they're appealing to the long overlooked but lucrative Egyptologist market?

The other ad is just so stupid. Advertising some clothing store or something but features a woman reclining draped in fancy fabrics. Sounds innocuous but the way she's lying and the look on her (blank, glazed) face just scream *junkie*! All you'd need are a few track marks and a string of drool from the corner of her mouth. Or perhaps it's a dead body - fashion photographers having decided that models charge far too much now just keep a couple on ice.. Wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Anyway, rant over - go about your business.

how shocking (fnar fnar)

Attempted murderer.

Yes, my appliances tried to kill me this morning. Ok, not all of them. I'm still getting along with the stereo, fridge and (obviously) computer, and the washing machine & I still have a wary mutual respect.

But the iron tried to take me on this morning. Bastard.

I'd like to say it threw me across the room but I came back swinging, unfortunately the truth of the matter is that I curled up in a ball and quivered on my bed.

If I had any hair I think it'd be standing on end.

For all my joking about my doctor friend in the previous post (ah, how ironic!) it's great to have a cardiac specialist you can call at the drop of a hat. Or drop of an arrhythmia. Or something.

Dammit, I didn't even finish ironing my shirt..

kick out the yams

Title courtesy of a dream I had the other night where MC5 were helping me do the gardening. Rake, muthafucka, rake!

I don't remember if they were any good. They don't really strike me as the greenfingered type - except perhaps for being dab hands at growing pot.

Anyway, the weekend that was:

BBQ on Friday night celebrating a friend getting a job. Cardiac medicine. Scary shit quite frankly, and you don't even get to keep your hands warm in someone's chest cavity - it's all done with tubes and you go in through the groinal region. I think it's a big con and he's just a highly paid perve. Well, at least it's not as obvious as becoming a proctologist..

A fun party though, met some cool people, charred some steak and managed to drop the entire meat-covered hotplate on the balcony floor. Fortunately no-one inside saw us so no harm done. If anyone develops food poisoning that was just a joke ok?

Saturday at karate I got given a lot of shit. Quite literally. Timbo-san procured for me 3 sacks of horse dung on the equine by-product black market. Who knew there was such a thing?

Anyway, that was the best bit of the training. Well, except for dropping Jason with a well-timed roundhouse to the floating rib. That was fun *g* But after 9 fights I was dying on my feet, fortunately so was everyone else so my demise wasn't too spectacular.

Stayed up far too late to watch the ABs trample the Boks. And much fun was had by all - as long as you're a Kiwi. Although the coverage on channel 7 was abysmally poor - not only did they only show delayed coverage (starting at 11:45pm! bastards) but they jammed in as many epic ad breaks as they possibly could, occasionally cutting off the restart so they could show more ads. Wankers.

Stayed up a bit longer watching Rage - guest programmed by Billy Corgan. Which reaffirmed my belief that he's a talentless pretentious cock. Well, his choice of music wasn't too bad to start with (Jane's Addiction, Sonic Youth, Mazzy Star, Spiritualized) but I missed all those and had the misfortune to tune into Limp Bizkit (gak), Swervedriver (yawn), Christina Aguilera (what the..?), and Seal (copious hurling). Plus his attempted uber-cool spoken interludes had me throwing cushions at his moon-like head.

Sunday I attempted to do some gardening but, with my sleep deprived brain half expecting MC5 to turn up to help at any minute, couldn't muster the enthusiasm for much. The lawn is coming up though, I must get around to fixing that lawnmower..

So. There you go. Don't know why I splurged all that - possibly some guilt that a half dozen of you persist in venturing over here day after day in the vain hopes that some nugget of wit and wisdom has sifted free from my brain pan.

I'd promise to do better in the future but.. we'd all know I was lying.

my *new* favourite t-shirt!

so true!

My folks are usually so weird with their gifts when they come back from holidays. Like the cheese-slicer they brought me from Tasmania. Or the carved boar's tusk from Niue. Or the Echidna-in-a-can from Cairns.

Ok, that one was pretty cool as well as weird. But still..

But now, this t-shirt redeems all the other strangenesses. I *love* this one!

PS Happy birthday Bro! 37 years old? Never dreamt you'd make it.. :D

losers

They're blowing up London again.

Pffft. That's sooo last week..

books, glorious books..

I have no idea where I found this link but reading this guy's list brought tears to my eyes. I love reading. There is nothing - nothing - like the feeling you get when you're swept up by a wonderful story.

Check this out.

Reading that list makes me burst with the memories of reading some of those books, and at the same time yearn and salivate thinking of reading the ones he mentions that I've not come across. I consider myself widely and weirdly read but I've only read four of the titles he mentions and flicked through a couple of others. There are several he mentions that I'd never even heard of - title or author.

I miss reading. I haven't been grabbed by a book for a while now. I have.. *scampers off to count* ..13 books by my bed that I'm in various stages of reading.

But none of them are really connecting with me.

Or, more to the point, I'm not letting them (or am unable to let them) connect. I can't seem to focus enough lately. No just too much happening in my head, I'm used to that confusion continually surrounding me, but too much outside of my head to do.

Yet I seem to be making very little headway anywhere. For instance I'm supposed to be at karate as I type this. But I'm so tired and washed-out after a day in front of a computer doing very little. Ironic that I know I need more exercise but I'm so tired from my inactivity that I can't do it. No, not ironic, the other word.. arse, that's right. It's just arse.

Modern life is rubbish. But I digress.

I just want to curl up with a good book and spend 12 hours reading till I finish it. And not have anything else to think about, anything else to do, anywhere to be. And especially I want to not want to be anywhere else, doing other things. I want to be able to focus on that one thing, to the exclusion of all others.

Life must be so easy and rewarding for mono-maniacs.

please sign the petition

This is important! A girl's life depends on it!

Please Lindsay, Eat!

(filched from Jack's other blog)

housekeeping

I've finally gotten around to updating my blogroll. I held on to some of these links for much longer than I should've in the vain hopes they'd resurface. But now it's time to let go.

For starters: it seems that, true to his word, Pornyboy Curtis has gone for good. Fortunately his blog is still there to read and enjoy his sardonic, pungent wit - although it does seem to be growing mold. Seriously. Go look if you don't believe me. Anyway, good luck whatever you're up to now mate.

Kurly has deleted her blog, unable to cope with the lack of anonymity on the interweb. I understand only too well babe. Fortunately, I know where you live so you can't escape, mwahahahahaha!

Sarah is gone. Again. But this time looks to be a little more permanent, dammit. You will be sorely missed. Hers was the first blog (in it's leto/naked-lady incarnation) that I ever read and it got me hooked into this whole horrible ordeal. Yeah, thanks Sarah..

Sorehead also seems to have disappeared. I know not the whys and wherefores of this because I've had my head up my own arse for some months now. Anyone know anything?

There have been a few name changes and changes of location too, such as Jen relocating to her own boat, Boz deciding he'd had enough of the ennui and assassinating his own character, Kraken undergoing a harmless name change, surtr flouncing back to his livejournal and taking his toys with him.. Yes I know most of these happened ages ago but I'm slow on the updates these days.

Finally I was going to complain about several others that haven't blogged for ages but I realised that would be pot/kettle-esque in light of my recent flurry of inactivity - I wouldn't have me on my blogroll (if you see what I mean). So I'll keep my ineffectual whinging to myself. Well, as much as I ever do.

That's all. Back to bed now, all of you.

happiness is..

On a cool winter's night, watching your cat chasing dead leaves around the backyard.

the backyard

A garden! Finally! After more than 5 years in apartments I get to play with a real backyard! Wheeee!

fun with acronyms

Recently discovered in the Handbook of Official Medical Claptrap that I use at work:

PFO = Pissed and Fell Over

Yes, it's an actual officially recognised acronym. So when you're trying to explain your drunken injuries from the night before in faux-medicalese you can throw that one in to give some semblance of credibility.

Some amusing names I've had recently include Dr Young Hoon, Dr A Mok, Dr Goodenough, and the oh-so-unfortunately named Dr A Nally. No I don't think he was a proctologist. Shame but.

Best surname award has to go to the Sarcasmo family. God, that's so good I want to change my name..

Best place name recently: Kinkii Cemetery. I *so* want to be buried there!

Umm.. That's all.

Apologies for the lack of communication. I've not been lacking for things to write about or stuff to say, just lacking the words.. and, to tell the truth, suffering from a terrible bout of stage fright.

My cunning plan is to not blog at all for ages until everyone goes away and forgets about me.

Insecurity, thy name is fishboy.

up sticks

Moving time. Physically I mean - this blog, such as it is, will remain where it is.

But I've had enough of Darlinghurst. I've had enough of this pokey wee flat.

Had enough of not having a garden, having a busy road within a stone's throw, and not being able to find a parking spot within half a klick of the house.

I've definitely had enough of neighbours.

The guy upstairs is nice enough: genial and polite. Although his eyebrows are bushy enough to hide several species of endangered marsupial. They're a little scary.. But I digress. As usual. My problem with him is his feet.

Specifically that they appear to be made of lead. Or at least that's what it sounds like when he wanders around up there. I've nicknamed him The Man with the Golden Feet because of that. But then I tend to make up names for people. I just never usually share them..

So yes, getting away from his feet will be wonderful. And away from his stereo and xbox.

The stereo has been an issue for a while - I mean, I like the Scissor Sisters too but selected songs on repeat all day is getting a little too much. And Warren Zevon was an awesome cool guy but I really don't need to hear "Werewolves of London" 8 TIMES IN A ROW!

The downstairs guy.. Well, I've documented my first run in with him.. ah *rummages in archives* here.

I've not had to get all alpha male on him since and he's been on the whole pretty quiet but every once in a while he just has to cut loose and slam those doors of his.

I just don't need this shit anymore. It's messing with my mental feng shui.

So this weekend we're moving to Glebe. To a larger house with a big garden for Griffin to go nuts in.

It'll be great. After the horror of moving is done. God I hate shifting house although this is nothing compared to the hideousness of my shift from NZ.

So hopefully my next update will be from my new home. Although when we'll have a phone on is anyone's guess.

raggin' on the dragon

I don't usually post these things but this one is abso-fucking-lutely hilarious.

*still giggling*

sugar pill goodness

Now everything will be alright - these things cure everything you know..

Thanks Surtr!

language warning

I've been here a little over a year now and already I can feel the Ockerisms settling into my speech. God help me - I'm going native.

I'm all 'mate' and 'no worries' all the time, although I've yet to sink to the level of the 'giving me the shits'. Or 'sheets' rather. For all that the Aussies tell us to buy a vowel (and, let's face it, fair cop), at the very least they could buy a vowel other than an 'e'.

It's been ages since I've said 'bro' or 'choice', and 'sweet' is a little too pan-Antipodean to be NZ definitive.

I was in a bookshop the other day and a couple of (extremely!) large brown guys sidled past and as I got out of their way they said "Cher, bro" and "Kia ora" which brought an instant grin to my face. Us Kiwis aren't all that uncommon here but it's nice to encounter language that could be straight from Rotovegas.

Anyway, I'm making it my mission this week to amuse everyone at the office by overdoing the Nu Zullund uckzent and calling everyone 'bro' - gender regardless. See how long it lasts before I get laughed out of the building.

But in a totally unrelated 'I've-been-wondering' aside - who decided on the width of toilet paper? It's all the same width! Is this an issue to people with other-than-normal-sized/shaped butt cracks?

And can anyone explain to me why these things even occur to me?

Brennus and his fantastic moustache

One of the *massive* figureheads from the French exhibition at the Maritime Museum. Man those Frogs really made some freaky/hilarious/cool carvings..

More pics on my flickr blog.

big brother

No this isn't a post about those insufferable wankers prostituting themselves on tv, it's just too easy to pick on them. This is about my fucking irkmates again.

Yeah I know, stuck record. Tough shit, suck it up if you want to read on. But feel free to leave at any stage, your exits are wherever the hell you like.

This is about those people who come to you with a problem or just to pass some work on and then hang around watching. For ages. No matter how resolutely you turn your back and turn up the volume in your headphones.

I hate people watching me. Really loathe it. Alright, that probably just points out my paranoia more than anything. But still, what do they think hanging over me is going to accomplish? Well, I know that one of my irkmates does it because she wants to see me fuck up - just so she can tell me all about it. Sadly for her I rarely allow her that pleasure.

I think a lot of civil servants are control-freaks, often frustrated ones, so whenever they are in a position to be able to exert their will over a process or a person they're loath to relinquish any of that satisfaction to someone else.

Or maybe they just purely exist to PISS ME OFF.

Today I was given the wonderful task of cleaning up someone else's FUBAR and I made the mistake of actually asking that person what the problem was. Of course she didn't see anything wrong, despite the fact the file had been bounced around the building for some time accreting a heavy coating of post-its and red ink. Anything that has a Rorschach of lines, circles and question marks on it makes my stomach sink when I see it on a Friday afternoon - it means I'll probably be the last to leave. Everyone else will be merrily drunk at the pub down the road before I manage to get off the phone.

Today was one of those days, made infinitely more irritating by the fact that my co-irker insisted in hanging around like the malevolent shade she is, periodically muttering things about it being fine when she processed it. Well, obviously not you incompetent hack. She lurked around my desk even when I was on hold for about 10 minutes while an equally incompetent funeral director flailed through his haphazard filing 'system'. She only finally fucked off when I pointedly said I'd let her know when I'd fixed it and what the problem was. Which of course won't stop her from doing the same thing again next week.

So, all in all a crappy afternoon. And to add injury to insults I find that I'm probably not going to be paid for a couple of hours overtime due to some fucked up rule about having to take a break between 'standard' hours and 'overtime' hours.

I'm going to make it my mission to steal enough office supplies to make up for it. Perhaps hock 'em off on eBay. Anyone need any staples?

Aussie hip hop - stand the fuck up

I know I've bagged Australian hiphop before on a few occasions and by and large I stand by those comments. But I've discovered a few absolute gems here - well, one in particular:

Hilltop Hoods aren't really pushing the boundaries of hiphoprasy much, in fact they're decidedly old-school in their delivery but oh-my-god do they play well live. I've not heard their albums yet and to tell the truth I'm a bit reluctant to since what I've heard of their live stuff kicks so much as I think studio work would pale in comparison. But I may be wrong (it's happened once or twice before) and I'm intending to pick up at least one of the albums at some stage.

All this adulation is coming off the back of just hearing them on the radio. I've heard two of their gigs on Triple J before and tonight they performed in Ayr for the One Night Stand show. They just sound so fantastic live - the crowd response is instant and genuine. Brilliant stuff. I was shakin ma booty in the car on the way home from karate.

I urge anyone who gets a chance to see these guys live to go for it. I know I will be whenever they next come to town.

Right, I must sleep. Night all.

PS Happy birthday Claire! You geriatric..

Office Space was a documentary

Ok, so it's obvious that I have a very low irritation threshold. I mean people breathing too loudly in movies gets (ironically) up my nose. Ads on tv make me want to scream and throw things at the screen, ads on the radio throw me into a rage.. I'll stop there or this'd just be a rant about the billion and one things that NEED TO STOP RIGHT NOW OR ELSE.

*deep breaths* Relax Jeff.. Ohhhhhmmmmm..

So.. Today's mini rant - office politics.

Fuck I hate people. Especially people I have to work with every day. One particular such co-irker (whom I nicknamed 'The Queen of Spades' some time ago and it seems to have stuck. heh.) is the same lowly grade of desk jockey as me but seems to feel that since she's been there for forever and a day she owns the fucking place. Now this is generally of no concern to me because quite frankly if she wants it she can have it, I just work there. I've no desire to become part of the machine any more than I already am. But recently she's begun trying to organise the work according to her warped sense of logic and it's pissing other people off.

Now that concerns me, not because I care so much for their welfare but because they all come and MOAN TO ME FOR HOURS ABOUT HER.

Argh. Jee-sus. Fuck off and deal with it yourself! Push her out a window, feed her into the shredder, I don't care - I'd even quietly applaud - just don't get me to fight your battles. In fact don't bitch to me at all if you're not going to do anything about it.

Grr.

Oh, as an aside, I learnt a rather amusing fact about the aforementioned Dark Queen today: it seems that before becoming the lowest of the low - sorry, civil servant, I'm always getting that wrong - she worked for a circus. Now the first thing that sprang to mind when I heard that was "As a sideshow freak?". VERY bitchy of me. And I actually said it too - I've got so many feet in my mouth you wouldn't think I'd be able to say anything out but nevertheless these things still get out. Fortunately she wasn't around at the time..

But no, she was just a carny. Which explains a few things. Like the small hands and the smell of cabbage *snigger*

I think I've vented enough for one day, I'll save the diatribe about assholes who don't cover their mouths when they cough for another day. Oh that's going to be a nasty one.

After that I'll work-over the exhibitionist morons who go on Big Brother..

carroty goodness

MYSTERY CARROT AWARD
for website adequacy

I think there should perhaps be an 'in' before that last word.

analyse me. please.

So there I was last night being pursued through my dreams by the Unstoppable Kitten of Doom (tm). I mean this thing was like the Terminator - at one stage someone cut it completely in two with a cleaver and threw the bits away but it just dusted itself off and got back up again.

We crushed it under a rock but that had no effect. Even tried to dissolve it in acid. All to no avail.

It wasn't exactly a fast moving kitten, we were outrunning it ok - it was just annoying, always there behind us & trying to eat us. It actually did bite off someone's finger at one stage but then he was trying to throw it over a cliff at the time so fair enough really. And it didn't swallow it anyway, we put it on ice to get stitched back on later.

But it was definitely a killer kitten, don't get me wrong - it could claw through an iron cage with ease. Teeth that could crush rocks. Blood crazed look in its eyes.

Adorably cute though.

I woke up before it managed to do anyone any serious damage and I've got to say I never felt terrified of it (not like the Man-Eating Shallots From Hell (tm) in a previous dream, they were really scary..) it was just always after us.

Anyone got an explanation? Perhaps something to do with the sangria and feijoa vodka I'd been drinking?


BTW I'm back now.
Managed to get away from Boba & Jengo - they had me cooking eggs for a month.

Bobba sez..

The *best* graffito EVAH!

work sux

I can't blog from work, no internet access. Which is a good thing or I'd have been fired for sure from the things I want to say about my thick-as-pig-shit-drying-in-the-sun workmates. So I've started emailing myself some rants during the day.

I know I can email update the blog directly but I think a few hours space is a good thing and might let me keep my job a bit longer..

Anyway, here's today's. Oh, apologies for the lack of swearing - I've had to reign it back to get the emails past the filter:

I'm annoyed. Nothing new there since I seem to be perpetually irritated.

This time I'm annoyed at my workmates. Also nothing remotely new, some days the best fun I have during work is imagining which medieval torture method matches up best with which workmate.

My peeve of the morning is people treating me like a moron and wasting my time. Unfortunately this seems to be what a number of people at BDM are employed specifically to do.

For instance one of my 'delightful' co-workers (who I've nicknamed the Queen of Spades) insisted on taking me on a 15 minute walk around the building to explain how to do something that would have taken 20 seconds to simply tell me.

Doesn't sound like much I know: but the reason this took so horribly long was because she has to take the lift, even to go just one floor. Since there's only one lift in the building this means standing around waiting all the damn time, and then huddling in a cramped lift with someone who's invariably either a) not changed their socks in recent memory, or b) decided to bathe in a lake of deodorant before coming to work. Doesn't the Geneva Convention on biological & chemical warfare cover civilians too?

Just as an aside - does anyone really believe perfume/deodorant advertising? I mean do you really think that if you spray on a bucketload of that crap that men/women will fall all over you/acquiesce to your every need? Man that pisses me off. I have to get my nostrils seared back to Vietnam because you're gullible enough to think that no matter that you're a psoriatic moron with the eating habits of a warthog on crack you're going to pull the babes because you smell like 'Lynx: Africa'. Despite the fact that lynxes themselves probably smell very strongly of cat piss.

Ahem.

I wish I could swear properly. A few judiciously places epithets would round out this diatribe nicely. Ah, I'm sure you can put 'em in yourself. Every second word in some places..

But I digress. Often.

In fact I've lost my train of thought completely.

Oh sod it, I'd better look like I actually do something here. Although that thought leads me to another 'issue' I have: I had a really good day yesterday. Well, good as in productive, not good as in fun, rewarding, enjoyable, stimulating, even-remotely-interesting, etc. I worked till a bit later and managed to clear a large chunk of the huge backlog of deaths that awaited my return from NZ.

So today at work I got congratulated by several of my bosses for doing 108 registrations. Apparently it's a record. Actually I'm faintly embarrassed by it - I thought I was goofing off for some of the afternoon. And before anyone thinks I'm tooting my own horn (I'm not that flexible) I also don't think it's that hard to do. You just have to turn off your brain, develop a glazed expression and breath through your mouth..

Which is what I should get back to right now.

denied!

Originally uploaded by fb.

bollocks to this..

..I'm off to New Zealand.

To kick some ass, drink some tequila and soak in the hot pools. Mmmmmm..

At least I will be off as soon as I get all my packing done. Yes, I should be packing now but some things (everything!) are better put off till the very last minute.

I'm a terrible over-packer. Or a great one, depending on your POV. I tend to take all my stuff and try to jam it into the suitcase. When this invariable fails to work I'll go though and sort out all the essential items and fail to pack them. Over the years I've gotten adept at traveling with a lot of useless stuff. Taking polar fleeces & polypro when going to warm climates, remembering the torch but not the batteries, taking shaving foam when tramping, that kinda stuff.

Right, I better go try to pare down the suitcase so it at least shuts.

Ciao lovelies.

wibble

I've no idea where my head is these days.
*looks under bed*
Nope not there.
*wonders how I can see without a head*
*wonders how I can wonder without a head*

As you see.

A disturbing development on the music in my head (wherever it may be) I had Mr Burns' song "See My Vest" running through my head the whole day last Friday. Analyse that one..

I also managed to remember a dream I had the other day. Well part of one. Just the bit where I was driving and giving some other car the finger. I've been driving in Sydney too much.

I was going to tell you all about the heinous salmon day I had the other day, but.. I can't be arsed griping. A salmon day, for the uninitiated, is the feeling of swimming upstream all day only to get screwed and die. Even though I've left the aquarium the fish analogies still haunt me.

I can't be arsed thinking up anything. So I'm just going to pull stuff from some of my notebooks. Observations on my pathetic daily existence. It's not going to be coherent, but then I'm rarely coherent...

Like the other morning when the first thing (no pun intended) I saw on the way to the bus in the morning was an elderly man pissing on the side of a car. Not on the wheel either - all over the door. He obviously had no prostate problems from the coverage he was getting too.

Zoning out on the bus to work, watching the morning commuters scurrying off to work, quietly loathing the 9 to 5 rat race (including my part in it), when the bus stops with a tree right next to my window - with columns of ants marching up & down the trunk. Irony eh? Sometimes mother nature has excellent timing.

Running to cross the road to get to catch/miss a bus and running up onto the sidewalk by a one-legged man on crutches. I felt strangely ashamed. Like I was flaunting my able-bodiedness in front of him..

Beware, when driving and listening to the radio really loud, that if they play Rammstein and you have a shaved head people will assume you're a Nazi.

Gah. Most of these are illegible, and I've no idea if I've expanded any to blog posts before.

I'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes from the sublimely ridiculous 'Simply Dancing' tv series: "The cha cha is so bubbly it makes the Wiggles look like Nick Cave!"

music of the mind

Since no-one seems interested in my political opinion.. *sniffs* ..here's something I've been thinking about for a bit now. Does anyone other than me have a soundtrack to their life? Not, obviously, one audible to everyone else - just music playing in your head. All the time.

I wake every morning with a song/tune in my head, it's usually the first thing that I consciously notice (unless the cat has woken me by chewing on my toes again..). I almost never remember dreams these days and I don't sleep much anyway, maybe 6-7 hours a night, but the music is often the last thing I remember before dropping off and almost always the first thing upon waking up. On a couple of occasions I've fallen asleep and woken up with the same tune and it's been quite eerie - almost as if I've not slept at all but time has just jumped forward to the morning. A very depressing thing on a weekday..

The morning music doesn't necessarily have anything to do with what I've been listening to lately. Or even what I actually like - although I've thankfully never had to awake to Usher or Britney inhabiting my head. Sometimes I've no idea where they come from, especially when I don't have the song in my collection or haven't heard it for a long time, years even. But I guess my subconscious must be mulling things over while I sleep as I often come to a deeper liking of a particular song after playing it over in my mind.

Recent first songs of the day include:

Little Know It All - Iggy Pop
Whiskey Tango - Tanya Donelly
Momentum - Aimee Mann
Miracle Drug - A C Newman
Twilight - Elliott Smith
Beat on the Brat - The Ramones
Quattro (World Drifts In) - Calexico
Colossal Insight - Roots Manuva
Power to the People - John Lennon
Girl U Want - Devo
I'm Waking Up to Us - Belle & Sebastian
India - Psychedelic Furs
Breakdown - Jack Johnson
Return to Oz - Scissor Sisters
Sunrise Over Sea - John Butler Trio

I don't know if there's a theme there, or even if their needs to be. I'm not really looking for an explanation and I'm usually quite happy with the choices my subconscious makes, it just got me wondering whether anyone else experiences something like this? I'd heard recently that musicians are much more likely to have an internal musical score but, since I'm about as musically talented as your average draught excluder, I don't see how that applies to me.

Perhaps I was a jukebox in a previous life.

political map of my heart (or other unspecified internal organ)

Reading Paula's thought-provoking blog Celebrating Mediocrity prompted me to repeat these online 'discover your political flavour!' political tests I'd done over a year ago. And do the moral politics one I'd not done before (apparently I have morals! who'da thunk it?).

My previous scores are way back here if anyone's interested.

Political Compass:
Economic Left/Right: -7.00
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -8.26

Which appears to show that, compared to last year, I'm fiscally more conservative but less tolerant of authority. True I guess - I have no money so it's difficult to be radical with nothing.

Political Survey:
Left/Right -8.7847
Pragmatism +1.2909

Which says I'm still a pinko lefty but have become less pragmatic about it. Becoming an idealist in my old age perhaps?

Moral Politics:
You scored -4.5 on the Moral Order axis and 2 on the Moral Rules axis.

The following items best match your score:
System: Socialism
Variation: Moral Socialism
Ideologies: Social Democratism
US Parties: No match.
Presidents: Jimmy Carter (90.89%)
2004 Election Candidates: Ralph Nader (92.03%), John Kerry (81.12%), George W. Bush (47.85%)

Of the 61055 people who took the test:
1.1% had the same score as you.
11.6% were above you on the chart.
76% were below you on the chart.
78.9% were to your right on the chart.
14.6% were to your left on the chart.

Personally I found the Moral Politics test a bit confusing and slightly more bollocks than the others but I guess it's just the trappings that they dress it up with. It's all the guff like 80ish% connection with horse-face Kerry, only 15% of the population are more left than you you wacko, and my variation being something waftily titled 'moral socialism', that makes me leery of the test. I hate labels and divisions, like there's supposed to be a clear-cut distinction between these groups.

Bah, it's too late & too hot. I can't think enough to dissect it. Read Paula's commentary, I agree with most of what she's got to say. Especially the bit about euthanizing 'New Right' fucktards, although I'd settle for sterilisation and 'Running Man'-style game shows. With no survivors.

bad asssssssssssssssss

I'll just indulge in a little self-congratulation now - at karate tonight I whomped one of the guys in the chest with a cracking roundhouse and dropped him like a sack of spuds. Potatoes that groan and gasp in pain too.

True, I did feel really bad about it at first - no-one likes to maim their friends. Well, not by accident at least. But once he got his wind back and it was apparent that no permanent damage was done I felt much better about it. While he is 'only' a brown belt, he's at least 3 inches taller than me and a good 25 kgs heavier (funny how I still do height in feet & inches but weight in kilos, eh?).

I'm beginning to feel like my karate is getting back on track. Finally. After nearly a year of dental fuck-ups and no kumite (translation: biffo) the last few months have seen my fighting move from glacial slowness to stunned mullet through epileptic chicken and now hovering around dangerous epileptic chicken (frothing at the beak).

I may not quite have my eye in as yet but the enthusiasm and blood-lust are there. I managed to stay in the fight with my sensei most of the evening. Right up to the point where he cracked me across the face with a hook kick. I swear he had both feet on the ground at the time.. He had his DV camera there this evening so that's been immortalised on film. Yay.

Unfortunately my roundhouse was off-camera so all that there is to prove it is a thwack and a lot of groaning.

Next training is on Saturday arvo so more updates then, if I still have the use of my hands..

it rubs the lotion on its skin..

A few links for your amusement, since I've not been posting links (or, indeed, anything) much of late.

This one came via the lovely Michelle (always a source of quality kitten photos). I laughed long & hard, proving that I am so totally a geek.. (and I *love* the stick figures on his sidebar)

The best of the LotR rip-off gifs: Boromir's invisible phone. *still giggling*
No, I take it back: the Horn of Gondor is the best! *snorting with laughter*
Hang on, this one beats all.. *expires laughing*

The catchiest, creepiest song I've heard in a long while: Lotion (go to downloads and have a look at the video).

Finally, quote of the day from Alexi Sayle:

"Americans have different ways of saying things. They say elevator', we say `lift'...they say `President', we say `stupid psychopathic git'...."

I've no idea when he said it or which President he was referring to. Could have been any of them over the last 20 years or so...

add it up

I saw the Violent Femmes tonight. Forgot my camera though so you'll have to take my word for it. Wish I'd had it: the gig was at the Enmore Theatre in Newtown, a cool old venue, and there were a number of times I wish I'd been able to capture the scene.

I've been a Femmes fan for about 20 years now and this is the third time I've seen them. It was amusing seeing the range of ages there, from teens to fortysomethings. Great to see they're still striking a chord with teens of today with their angsty death/drugs/sex orientated lyrics. The crowd was less active than the previous one I'd seen - that was 10 years ago and at a University Orientation so it's not surprising. But they were still extremely vocal and plenty of arm waving. And some guy, who must have been VF's No#1 Australian fan, right in front of us absolutely going off his nut - screaming, shouting & dancing like a wildman. That was so great to see - he must have been 19 or 20, and would have only just been born when the band formed. He had even bought several t-shirts which he gave to some of the people around him towards the end of the night.

While they've not really put out anything new that can hold a candle to their seminal 80's work they really know how to put on a performance. This time the original drummer (Victor DeLorenzo) was back with the band and centre-stage throughout playing his trademark snare, cymbal & tom standing up (when he wasn't running around the stage or generally acting the madman). He was definitely the liveliest of the three and did the most interacting with the crowd. He also did a big drum solo (when do you ever see that these days?!) which was hilarious as well as excellently done.

By contrast Gordon Gano (guitar & vocals - I shouldn't have to tell anyone this stuff really!) kept himself out of the spotlight almost entirely - except for a couple of guitar solo bits. His voice definitely hasn't changed with age, still the familiar nasal whiney twang. Great to hear *g*

Brian Ritchie on bass had the most extensive collection of instruments of any bass-player I've ever seen. He played 5 different kinds of bass throughout the night from a large acoustic-electric bass guitar, to a fully electric upright bass, an electric bass guitar, a 2 string slide bass, and a bizarre single string upright contraption that honestly looked like a mop handle with a wire attached. All of them sounded brilliant.

The best bits for me (since I wasn't into dancing tonight) were the extended jazz-like jam-sessions they had with some other musicians - a couple of sax players, banjo, slide-whistle, trumpet, and accordion. I loved their rendition of 'I Held Her in My Arms', and 'Gimme The Car' was brilliantly realised despite (or perhaps because of?) them all being parents now. The jazzy, quirky noodling that is part of 'Black Girls' was also particularly cool. They ended the set with a lengthy 'Kiss Off' which had them going crazy and getting the crowd going wild too.

All-in-all a superb gig. If you get a chance to catch these guys you won't regret it.

call me david

For I have killed Goliath. I can prove it: I've got his death certificate.

I did King Kong the other week too (Kong is actually his middle name btw). He was a pussy.

I've massacred many luminaries, such as Doris Day, David Bowie, Salma Hayek, Robbie Burns, James Dean, Kenny Everett, Keith Richards, and Nina Simone. Amongst others. I'm an unstoppable killing machine.

You could even call me Judas - I've killed the Messiah. Well, probably just a messiah.. (actually it was a typo, shoulda been Massiha.. still, it's nearly as good as the 'Scared Funerals' one *g*)

It's been a while since I tried to get myself Dooced by ranting on about work and the weirdness that goes on there. Actually I'd probably appreciate being fired, the shine has definitely come off this job. I'll tell you about the guy in my office with the persistent cough sometime when I can do it without frothing at the mouth and fantasizing about tying a knot in his windpipe..

But some of the amusing, interesting or just plain bizarre things I've come across:

The guy who's nickname, recorded for all eternity on his death certificate, is "Dick Honey". He had no excuse, his first name wasn't even Richard. Another had the interesting moniker of "Duck Bong". I'm baffled.

A trio of hilariously (to my puerile mind) named Chinese women: Fook-Ye, Kitty Fok, and the last called Sha Wing. Oh, you just can't make this stuff up.

But showing that the Oriental people aren't the only ones to have silly names, the lovely Grace Myfanny from England had me in stitches. What were her parents thinking?!

And of course there was the Bozo. From a family of Bozos. And he had three Bozo children. Sheesh.

The woman inexplicably named Cloreen. I wonder if she was employed as a pool sanitiser?

The most interesting place of birth: "under a tree" and in the 'Name of Attending Doctor' field "there was none". Brilliant.

Then there's the guy who died from (amongst other things) an occult bowel obstruction. I know it's a valid medical term but it makes me think he'd been eating wax voodoo dolls.

In the oddly-named-towns category there's Bogangate, NSW. I'm picturing a town of mullets, black jeans and Motorhead t-shirts. And Holden HQ's of course.

It gets funnier when you get into medical acronyms. Sprinkled amongst the prosaic HT, AMI, COAD, IHD, etc are gems like TNCF - meaning Toe Nails Cut & Filed, and GOK = God Only Knows. You know if that's on your chart in hospital things are looking grim.

More amusingly there are the actual official medical abbreviations FLK and FLM. Translating respectively as Funny Looking Kid and Funny Looking Mother. Oh man, I was in hysterics when I found that..

But it's not all shits & giggles - there was a guy who's profession was listed as 'Circus Performer', but given that he died of chronic alcohol poisoning must have been one of the sad clowns.

And just the other day an overweight diabetic who'd had three separate amputations in the last 4 months of his life. Talk about dying by degrees.

There are so many sad stories. People who have died destitute and alone and not been found for days or weeks. Or in one memorable case, years. Sure there are many who've lived long lives and are mourned by family and friends, but there are others - like the woman in her twenties who died suddenly (24 hours!) of septic shock, leaving three children under 5. Or the 90 year-old woman who'd had severe Alzheimer's dementia, depression, anxiety and immobility for 20 years. I just hope to have the faculties left to take myself out before I get that bad.

Damn. Sorry, I didn't mean to get all depressing. There's just a lot of death about and when you work with it it's hard not to dwell on mortality far more than most people find comfortable.

I meant to write a bit about the death of Doctor Gonzo the other day. Not so much about him personally but the effect his books have had on my life, from reading them and also through Rupert & mine's interesting attempt to recreate portions of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas". Man, those are some brain cells I wont be getting back. Maybe another day.

I've also got a bitch about the Academy Awards all stored up too.. I've got rants about most things when it comes down to it.

And this post goes to illustrate why I should stick to photos of cats. I just don't know when to stop..

How about now? Righto.

The Ladle.

Case in point about how crap a photographer I am: it took about 35 photos before I got one in which the a) lighting was ok, b) focus was clear(ish), c) the reflection was visible, and d) I didn't look like a complete twat (jury's still out on that one).

how many's that in fish-years?

If we were talking, 35 years ago today, and you tried to put one over on me and I said "pull the other one, I wasn't born yesterday", you could say "yes you were". And you'd be right.

happy snaps

I'll never be a great photographer. Quite apart from the lack of talent issue. It's the devil-may-care attitude I lack.

Case in point - the other day I was walking home and passed a brilliant scene worthy of my masterful blog (ahem). All houses in central Sydney seem to have bars on the windows, to keep burglars out (or the crazy people in, whatever), and there's a decent gap between the bars and the windows on most houses. This one house had their front windows open and their dog had climbed out the sash window and was sitting on the window ledge, head wedged between the bars watching the passers by. And panting (as you do).

It would have made a great shot (the dog was very photogenic and waggy) but I couldn't take it. Because it was someone's home. There were people in the lounge inside and I could hear them talking. I just really felt like I'd be intruding, invading their privacy. Which is a real concern when taking any photo with people in it that you're going to put on the internet. I'm not too concerned with the legal aspects, it's just that I don't like to piss people off by accident. Sure I'll do it on purpose at times, that's different *s*

On the other hand I don't really mind looking like a fool - I'll stand on a median strip trying to get a good photo or crouch in the gutter on a busy street looking like a deranged idiot.

My problem is that I really don't want to get involved in a conversation with people most of the time. Just want to take my photo and wander on. But getting permission and all that takes interaction when the whole reason I want the photo is so that I don't have to interact as a person. Just be an observer. Bloody humans, always with the questions..

Sod it, I'll stick to photos of graffitti and kittens *s*

decabook

A meme I got from Vanessa (orginating from A Flickering Light), I like this one. Hell, it encapsulates my favourite things about blogging - talking about books and making lists. If I can just figure out how to get a kitten photo in there it'd be perfect..

Anyway, authors whom I've read 10 or more books by. Apologies in advance for this being scifi/fantasy heavy. Hang on, no - I'm not embarrassed about it like many literary snobs feel I should be. Open your mind.

• Joan Aiken - the best writier of short stories, and some genuinely creepy horror books.
• Diana Wynne Joans - like Vanessa says, the Chrestomanci cycle is far superior to the whole Harry Potter monstrosity, and The Homeward Bounders is one of the best books EVER
• Iain Banks - both his scifi and 'straight' fiction are marvelous.
• Michael Leunig - do cartoons count? I reckon they should and this man is the best.
  
• Herge - well of course, hasn't everyone read all the Tintin books?
• Kurt Vonnegut - who I'm still struggling to actually like but his books always make me think.
• Ursula Le Guin - if you have even a passing interest in fantasy books read the Earthsea trilogy. And The Dispossessed is wonderful scifi.
  
• Shakespeare - the Bard. Need I say more?
• Terry Pratchett - he's been slipping lately but still funny and occasionally provocative (well, for humourous fantasy).
• Tim Powers - brilliantly weaves fantasy with historical fiction. And is not beyond really hurting his main characters.
• Jack Vance - The Dying Earth is deservedly a classic of it's kind.
• David Eddings - um. A vice, I'll admit.
• Brian Aldiss - good stuff.
  
• Patricia Wrightson - The Nargun and the Stars and the Wirrun series I haven't read for decades (eek! I'm old..) but I still remember vividly.
• Issac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke - not so much any more but still interesting for their time. Dated a bit in many cases but still great imaginations.
  
• E E "Doc" Smith - what was I thinking?!
• Robert Heinlein - I have no excuses..
  
• Piers Anthony - *hangs head in shame*
• Enid Blyton - *shifts nervously* well, haven't we all? *getting defensive* I mean, it's not a sickness, it's just a phase..
• Willard Price - *small voice* oh crap.
• Raymond E Feist - I'm sorry! I'm sorry! *weeps* I won't do it again!
• Larry Niven - *contemplates suicide*
• Ray Bradbury - *rallies* see, I'm not a complete loss. This guy was a strange and wonderful writer.
• Phillip K Dick - NOW we're talking! So ahead of his time that his time has yet to truly arrive. Read A Scanner Darkly, you won't regret it.

Um, I'll leave the list on that high(ish) note, before I unearth any more tragic authors.

Note that this is just those of whom I've read 10 or more, I have read Dickens, James, Austin, Frame, Huxley, Orwell, Hemingway, Lawrence, Joyce, et al (except for Tolstoy - I speet on your Warr and Peeeeses..) just not more than 10 books. Often only one. Just so I can drop it suavely into conversation at parties.

Let's face it, often a writer only has a few good books. Sometimes only one (come in JD Salinger). Occasionally they spin a shitty series out of that one book (come in Frank Herbert). Some die before making 10 books (RIP Douglas Adams) but the ones they left are delicious, forever-tantalising, morsels.

let's get it on!

Griffin vs Livingston (Livvy shown one-fifth size)

awwww..

I can't think of anything to blog about so here's the tried & true blogger fall-back plan: a cute kitten photo.

grump

Tell you one thing that fucks me off. Well, one of many. Have I mentioned how irritable I am? How much I'm generally a grumpy old coot? Oh I had, good. Now get off my lawn! Damn kids..

But I digress. Often. My entire life could be seen as a very complex digression.

Back to the rant. Computer software. It pisses me off. Not just for the usual reasons of obscenely inflated prices and dubious usefulness. No, it's the fact that they sell the cd and accompanying (woefully inadequate) 'information' booklet in a thumpingly huge box.

Oh I understand the reasons for doing so, I just hate them for it. It's the same reason cereal is sold in a box far larger than the actual product. So you think you're getting a good deal for your money, when in fact you're just buying a bunch of air and part of a dead tree.

Bigger = better. As always in marketingland.

But for software? Do they really think we're fooled?

Do they truly think that we think we must be getting a great deal because we're buying a cd in a box too large to hold in one hand?

What happened to the idea that, at least in the universe of computers, smaller is better? I mean, the companies that sell these products are usually called micro-something. Do they even understand what micro means?

It's enough to make you want to stab someone in the eye. Or maybe that's just me.

want!

Ummm, you know how it's, like, my birthday next week?

Well, if you'd all like to chip in and get me something I'd really love one of these.

It'd be really useful, honest! I mean, it seats 12 - that's economising, and means we can use the bus lanes. And it'd be a whizz around the garden, shifting the compost heap and the like.

I'll let you have a go too. In fact I'll need four of you to help drive.

hi, my name's Jeff and I'll be your blogger this evening

So, hi.

I'm still on hiatus. But hopefully nearing the end. I can feel the words wanting to come out but they're still a bit shy.

Actually that's a load of tripe. They're still having to be wrenched out one by one, kicking and screaming all the way. I don't know what's wrong with me but introspection ain't helping. I know my navel better than the back of my own ha- *looks* what the hell..?

No, more like I've had my head so far up my own ass I can see out my mouth.

If I can find the time to tell you all ("y'all" if you prefer..) about my ruminations on all things me recently I'll splurge them. I'll have to try and keep the bloody kitten off the keyboard first tho..

In the meantime here's a link to a flash animation of one of the best songs EVER. If you ever wanted an insight into my twisted psyche (insert sarcastic self-deprecation) I think this is screamingly funny and could have it on continuous play all day..

But then I think the Badger song is great too (and have found myself humming it at work on occasion, and they think I'm totally insane after I tried to explain it to my work mates..) so my taste is somewhat questionable at best.

Anyway, that's all for now. More soon I promise (threaten? whatever).

Oh, yes, in 10 days I'll be 35. Wheee.

And that's my real name in the title, in case you wondered. The internet isn't as anonymous as you think.

Or hope.

So screw it, this is me.:
*drops the towel*
Hey, don't judge - it's cold!

griffin

griffin
Originally uploaded by fb.

Hence my even more lack-of-sleep lately. Hyperactive little sod..

And in true blogger style I'll be posting many and various cute kitten photos over the next wee while. Bear with me till the infatuation wears off (probably about the time he knocks my coffee into the keyboard in the morning).

blogstipation

Still suffering word angst. So in a lame attempt to keep your interest while I try to re-configure my blog feng shui here's the tried-and-true (trite & true?) "what are the first 10 songs that come up when I hit shuffle & play?". Or something. Blah, talk amongst yourselves.

One Big Holiday | My Morning Jacket
Say Hello To The Angels | Interpol
Do You Realize?? | The Flaming Lips
Is You Or Is You Ain't My Baby? | Dinah Washington (Rae & Christian Remix)
I Am | Moving Units
Northern Lights | Goldenhorse
I Asked For Water | Howlin' Wolf
El Caminos In The West | Grandaddy
The Wind Cries Mary | Jimi Hendrix
Baby I Love You So | Jacob Miller

a care package from NZ

care package
Originally uploaded by fb.

And I *so* needed a new hair clip..

blueboy happy now

blueboy happy now
Originally uploaded by fb.

It seems all he needed was a little photoshop massaging from Michelle to cheer him up. I reckon a party hat would get him grinning..

fishboy's satchel

fishboy's satchel contents
Originally uploaded by fb.

The contents are..
*deep breath*

4 notebooks
hands-free celfone thingy
work ID and pass card
route 311 bus timetable (always wrong)
2 spare rubber bands
glasses cleaning cloth
glasses cleaning spray
2 red pens (stolen from work)
2 black pens (ditto)
1 pencil (from Ikea)
post-it notepad
dental floss
blue travel 10 bus pass
checked hankerchief
anti-perspirant
parachute log book (just in case..)
smints
2 spare earrings
NZ simcard for celfone
2 tiny shells (what the..?)
clipboard
2 letter writing pads
5 letters (unanswered as yet, bear with me)
2 postcards
stamped self-addressed envelope from Eroica
spare envelopes
envelope containing kiwi feathers
Auspost stamps
NZ Post stamps
2 movie fliers for 'Vanity Fair' (didn't see it)
water bottle
diary/journal/mad thoughts book
2 random photos (one from Canada, one from NZ)
tendonitis/RSI cream
mouthguard (just in case)
Aus $4.20 in coins (the perfect amount for coffee & a muffin)
Sydney metropolitan map
cellfone
wallet (containing mostly plastic, licenses and 50 Euros)
and finally: 60-70ish bits of scrap paper/used envelopes/torn-out notebook pages with scribblings/notes/lists/things to remember/things seen or overheard etc
oh, and some lint

No, I am not mad.

Well, maybe a little.

worth a 1000 words & all that..

blueboy
Originally uploaded by fb.

In lieu of actual words, since they don't seem to be forming themselves particularly well (case in point: I actually spelt 'themselves' with a 3 the first time..), I'll be putting up random piccies for your viewing pleasure. Endure with me till I figure out how to drive this camera.

low-atus

I'm suffering from severe bloggers' block at the moment so haven't been around here much lately. And won't be posting for a bit.

Don't know quite what's wrong.

2005 just aint sitting right.. Needs some wearing in.

Apologies to all those who I owe email and/or letters, I'm not avoiding you I just don't have the words at the moment.

I'll be back in a while, when I get my blog feng shui together.

hai!

I have a ninja minion at last!

Mwhahahaha!

He can do swift and deadly things in Morse code too.

(filched from srah)

hillbilly musical madness

Best band name ever.

Hank Plank & the 2 x 4s.

And the hats! I want one!

I have no idea what they sound like but I'd buy a t-shirt just for the name.

Although I have a suspicion they're a country band. Well, with song names like 'I Wish I Was In Prison', 'Don't Mock Me (Just Because I'm an Idiot)', and the mournful 'Lost My Beer' they could hardly be anything else.

new friend

Ain't he a cutie! His eyes are a bit red but that's understandable after a hard New Year's Eve's drinkin'.. 

happy birthday 2005

Awww..

A bouncing baby new year.

Good luck everyone.