anonymous jones

2011-06-03T23:07:00.003+08:00

Yay for parsnips!
Yay for beetroots!
Yay for swedes.! No. Not yay for swedes, boos big boos for swedes.

But yay for all the other ugly, mysterious veges that lurk in the corners of the supermarkets that SOMEONE (probably highly anonymous) must buy. Invade the personal trolley space of all the shoppers you pass and see if I'm not right. You won't find anyone with one of these Pariahs Of The Vegetable World in their trolley or any check-out-chick who can name them without asking the only attractive and intelligent customer who does happen to want to purchase them what they are. Sigh, the looks one gets.

Yes, dear readers, yet again I am to be found at the forefront of the avant garde, leading the way this time on the outskirts of the aisles in a daring vegetable revivalist movement. Stand and deliver! It's kind of like the New Romantics of the 1980s, but more thrilling because I have finally ditched my parasol and am now showing my ankles. ( I bet Adam Ant ate his nan's smelly old-fashioned veges, and I bet, while they weren't combing their hair, the guys from Spandau Ballet countered the negativism of Brit-punk nihilism by shelling broad beans for their mums.)

It's actually a very controversial field of study is vegetable history. There is such academic discord on what is theoretically the oldest vegetable known to man. Now don't begin to obsess over this yourself: it has driven many mad. Of course,the popular trivia answer is the pea (tsk tsk botanically a fruit) and there is no reason for this other than the word "pea" in a room full of bingo-going quiz-night tragics who have had one too many plastic cups of tepid lemon barley cordial, will guarantee a full house of giggles.

I have also read someone suggest Bristle cone pines - but that is just weird and also waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much fibre.

So the boffins MOSTLY narrow it down to lettuce, onions, garlic and potatoes.Clearly, they are not trying hard enough and need more funding.

Newest vege? Obviously the answer would be a genetically modified frankenfood, but there are so many of them, who can keep up to date? The scientists create them for fun, just to see if they can, and, well, why not? They've probably all run out of lemon barley cordial and besides, they've poached all the funding from the serious research so they've got to do something with it! Here's my current favourite:

It's a lemato.

Just dandy!

2011-05-24T22:17:00.003+08:00

HEADLINE - SUPERMAN DITCHES U.S CITIZENSHIP !
The American Way is not enough anymore, claims Man of Steel !

Have you heard the kerfuffle over Superman's plan to renounce his citizenship in issue #900? Despite the unlikelihood that The-Most-Famous-Illegal-Alien-Of-All-Time-Who-Never-Went-Through-Immigration could do that anyway, this is BIG NEWS. Yes, apparently the population of the United States has taken it to heart and knickers are in knots all over the country.

Well, what's it all about?

Supes is tired, it seems, of being politicized internationally by war-mongers.

So who can blame him?

He's had nearly 80 years of this kind of thing (though some may unkindly suggest that he's a bit of a dim himbo who ought to have expected it after parading around in Super-snug red undies and blue reeeeeeeeeeeeally tight tights for so long).

You don't agree? Then try this experiment at home: pack a suitcase of said undies and tights for yourself and hop on a plane for the Middle East, spend a week there in costume and see just what lovely apolitical and neutral sentiments you inspire.

Time for a makeover, then, with his new Citizen Of The World status. I know! Get Trinny and Susannah on to him! They'll bundle those sagging pecs into a good push-up man-bra! He needs a bowtie, too, methinks. They're cool. And the old slogan (er .. you know the one)is a bit , well, embarassing, especially post Wikileaks.

Suggestions?

What's a good motto for the new, revamped, international Superman?

Hmm ... Truth Will Out?

Oh no - that's taken.
;-)

2011-05-14T23:00:00.001+08:00

Well, it is kind of funny that Norway’s entrant in the Eurovision Song Contest is singing in Swahili. "Haba Haba". And is from Nigeria.

Well .. good on her, I say!

Still funny, though.

Ahh, but that’s the wacky beauty of this song Olympics! And from a non-European point of view the quaintness of this continent which is so ..well foreign, is the curiosity factor that makes us tune in and watch it. It's like a nature documentary, in a way. In fact, I bet Sir David Attenborough is probably in front of his telly right now, too, (in his blue shirt). Yep, there he is, with a tartan blanket over his knee, cup of steaming Horlicks, slippers and spaniel next to him as he tries to comb his hair into a vertical Eurovision-do while observing the complicated singing rituals of 43 countries and wishing he could pickle them for the British Museum.

And what fun! This year it’s held in Germany! No-one more fun than the Germans. Those funsters! And their hosts are not appalling at all. And their funnily pretend-offensive jokes only SOUND like they get horrified gasps from the international audience, but that’s the collective snort of oxygen replenishment by thousands of people as they inhale for another hearty ha ha ha! ( You’ve got to be careful when you do that not to snort saliva up your nasopharynx and into your sinuses because then it hurts and that’s no fun.)

Hot tips to win: Hmm it’s a tough one this year. Early on I thought it might be a Battle Between Hair Extensions which look AWESOME with a wind machine (and a person in a bird outfit). Hmm .. I dunno ... ... swarthy rapping Greeks in puffy shirts are hard to beat. Plus they have killer Sith Lord dance moves. Opa! And France’s video looks good, like the ten tenors except he's just one. The twins will be a big fad. (Newsflash! The German comedienne hostess - who may or may not have had her teeth filed into sharp points, it’s hard to tell on a 12 inch screen from 18 feet away in the dark – has announced that Greece are finalists.) Yay! And the Irish are, too! Double yay!!

I just love the amplified ethnicity , the strobing bad taste, the microcosm of strange English sentences. It's a snow globe of Euro oddities that if you shook it up and down would clog the air-con and all airways for weeks, perhaps months, with glitter from the costuming. But who will win? Meh ...who really cares?

Know any good Swahili jokes?

2011-04-29T23:46:00.013+08:00

Ahh, the Royal Wedding!!! Prince William and Kate Middleton!

Of course, dear readers, I had a front row seat with Prince Poppet. I'm not sure how much he saw of the ceremony etc., (buried under his beach sand as he was and tucked up in his little shell) but I know he was listening - after all, the aristocracy have got to stick together! Sure, they're human and he's a hermit crab but don't be crabbist - the Royal Family and Prince Poppet have a lot in common! Firstly, they all live in a kind of hot house, a bubble of artificially maintained reality. Secondly, they have a preference for caviar, and thirdly they exist as our pets.

Yes, the Royals are very good national pets of Britain and that is my argument for the monarchy. In fact, considering two billion people watched the wedding - which is ONE THIRD OF THE WORLD'S POPULATION (gasp!) their worth extends beyond Britain and even the greater Commonwealth to the whole planet. Yes, I think they are pretty good value.

Walkies, Poppet!

Long live 'em all!!!

2011-04-15T08:57:00.016+08:00

i rather think............................................................................................................. the world will end........................................................................................... smothered.under............................................................................................................................... a layer of............................................................................................................. ECO.BAGS

2011-04-01T13:11:00.010+08:00

Teenagers in their last two years of high school are the coolest people on the face of the planet! That means sixteen and seventeen year olds. After that they join the rest of us on the down hill slide.

They have the fastest, fickle fads of anyone and there is no one who can keep up with their highest level of cool.

Lady Gaga? She's 25. Washed up.

Robert Pattinson? Fogie.

Tutankhamun? 18 or 19 - see .. one or two years only and the rot set in there.

Justin Bieber? Oh well. There goes that theory.

2011-03-09T22:45:00.003+08:00

Testing, testing, 1-2-3 testing.
Let's crank this baby into gear.
Nope, still a few bugs there.

2009-12-03T23:24:00.003+08:00

Still here.

At least I think I am.

Yep, it's me alright:

the ninjas and the paparazzi haven't got me yet.

2008-11-11T10:14:00.008+09:00

Oh my goodness I have just noticed how coated with filth and pestilence is my keyboard!

I'm sure it used to be some kind of cream or "ecru" colour.

Lucky the keys aren't jamming up considering the crumbs stuck in there. Lucky my fingers aren't sticking to it considering the 'adhesions' in places. There is hair woven in and out the page up and delete buttons and little dust bunnies breeding to the sides of the space bar! It even has a kind of textured suede effect now from all the air borne lint and stuff that has glued itself over many years to greasy fingerprints. How many shades lighter to you think it'd be if I cleaned it? But it has such a comfy 'lived in' feeling! Anyway, once the keyboard is all one colour (bright and shiny) it'll just show up everything else. (So much for my 'slum chic' decor then!)

Ew, I hope that is not a bogey.

Is this where computer viruses start?

2008-11-06T10:51:00.004+09:00

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I've come to the conclusion that political elections are less about policies and more about racism (any kind), ageism, and misogyny. And that is in no order of importance.

I hate fake. I hate manipulation. I hate devices.

That's why I hate politics.

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2008-10-16T10:52:00.018+08:00

The stock-market was plunging, the red lights and arrows flashing, the news readers were doing their best solemn frowns and the newspaper headlines screamed "World Wide Recession!" and "Depression Age Predicted!" and all I could think was 'Cool! That's cheered me up! People will start to knit again!' and 'Does this mean I have to pluck my eyebrows like Marlene Dietrich?'

Doom and gloom, doom and gloom. Yes, dear readers, I realize there is plenty of that. And I would love to personally punch in the face the vulture guy I saw on the telly who was profiting from the auctioning of foreclosed houses in America. It will happen here of course, already is I suspect.

Extreme knitters will never get their knickers in a knot over an economic crisis.

But today I don't want to get angry. I don't want to think about injustice. I don't want to realize the seeming powerlessness of my averageness.

That's why I think it'll be good if people have to start doing things like growing their own veges again - the same as in the olden days.

It's a SpongeBob mindset: let's name all the really great things about having a new depression! Yay!

But don't start with a jingle because nothing much that's good rhymes, e.g., "Hey! We're in a Depression, we've lost our possessions, not that it's an obsession - but I'd rather have a recession .." (Yeah yeah, I challenge Michael Bolton to do any better ..)

Perhaps it will be a kind of blessing in disguise, though, for the Western World and cure our obesity problem? Stuff national politics and elections - let's just make Jamie Oliver supreme potentate of the world! He'll show us the way after we've freed all the battery hens and bartered for his cook books! I can see the U.S. doing OK with this: gun in hand, beaver cap on head and moose a la Palin sizzling away on the ol' George Foreman. And Australia, well - we're naturals aren't we? Just give us a stick and we'll go and dig up a nice juicy witchetty grub, toss it in a bit of Jamie's gremolata - Bob's your uncle. But I am a bit worried about the U.K: the Poms. They are not used to anything that is not pastel coloured on their dinner plates. I would like to see them nibbling at the hedgerows one day but .. alas! Their white bread and sugar sandwiches will take ages to run out.

But yeah! It'll be great! We can swap sewing patterns and hand-me-down clothes! We can shove plastic bags in our shoes to stop the water coming in the holes! We can ride bikes and walk with our legs! We can get donkeys! ! We can turn our junk into furniture, or presents, or skilfully crafted interpretive art objects! We can re-visit all our old obsolete technology that is clogging up the shed! Who cares if Super Mario is black and white and on a 1990 Gameboy!?! We can bake apples, we can have sing-alongs..

IT'S GONNA BE LIKE GILLIGAN'S ISLAND MEETS THE WOMBLES OF WIMBLEDON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Coupons! Crowded houses! Threadbare furniture! Funny hats! Rickety cars! We'll make our own chicken stock, eat around the bruise on the banana and have the maggot-free half of the apricot; old bread is still good bread and there are a million ways to revive a manky vegetable. I can see it now, dear readers, I can see it now! Open your eyes to the vision! Let me point out the rainbow!

WE'RE GONNA LIVE LIKE PAUPERS !!!!!!!

Uh oh.

... --- ...

I'm stuffed.

I already do.

2008-09-16T10:57:00.014+08:00

He's not the Messiah! He's just a man with more melanin!

Apologies to all my dear American readers, but I am REALLY sick of your presidential campaign. Heck yes.

And why should it matter to anyone in Western Australia, anyway? I dunno. I don't know why our TV stations think we should have to keep as up to date with that as with who poisoned Eric Forrester. Was it Stephanie? Or Brooke's sister? Or Ridge? Or some random person? Please, let's get our priorities right!

Barrack Obama. Yawn. Old guy POW person McCain. Snore. Hilary. Sigh. Pitbull Palin. Oh brother.

I read an interview with Alec Baldwin in the weekend paper and he reckons that a chunk of America will vote according to what sounds good and American-y. "This country needs a change but I'm not sure if a man named Obama can get it; it's like marketing, like buying laundry soap, soda, or corn chips. Will they buy McCain or Obama? What sounds right? A critical mass of Americans don't think beyond that. They do indeed choose presidents like they do laundry soap". Interesting comment. I can hear the tut tuts already.

So why is it more valid to vote for someone because she is a woman? Or to vote for someone because he is African American? If the former is your reason then that is sexist. If the latter is your reason, then that is invertly racist.

If only Pedro didn't lack political experience!

If only we could export our sweet Westminster system to the poor U.S. Honestly, I don't know how the populace stands it: I'd be in a constant media blackout if I had to live there.

So who do you reckon is the most likely person to poison Eric Forrester? Perhaps you already know and you can post a spoiler! (We have been known to be eight or nine years behind in Days of Our Lives, but I think we are reasonably current with Bold and the Beautiful).

I think it is a dead cert that the show's token black guy will be the guilty one.

Vote for Pedro anyway.

2008-08-18T13:16:00.004+08:00

DID my blog title not give you SOME KIND OF CLUE ???

Blabbermouth!

2008-07-03T11:11:00.016+08:00

To me, the sign of a good Shakespearean actor is that they spit and dribble a lot. You can always tell if you are watching an actor who is familiar with the Old Bard. Like Jean Luc Picard on Star Trek. And Snape on Harry Potter . Sure, there are a few wannabes, like Mel Gibson .. but he is just not believable UNTIL HE DROOLS.

I'm so dead jealous today because two of the Little Pigs are going to see a production of MacBeth. Now, I studied this at school myself and let me tell you there is plenty of saliva action in this one! I even saw a modern 'version' of it back then called "Boys' Own MacBeth" which was a musical and had some great lyrics like "Out damn Spot! Get out damn Spot! Lady Macbeth would say .. but he'd just roll on his back and wee at the moon, passing the time of day! Now there's Spot on the ceiling, Spot on the floors, Spot's on her hands they say .. How could she know that young Spot would explode - and leave his mark on the castle that day!" It was pretty highbrow. But, you know, that's an elite private girls' school education for you.

My friends and I were really into MacBeth. We would practise sinister plotting at school. We spoke in couplets. WE EVEN WORE TIGHTS, which was the only part of our uniform we liked. "When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning or in rain?" Unfortunately it was usually at the bus stop, baking in the hot sun in a school blazer. I remember how I used to come home and greet my poor mother with "How now thou secret black and midnight hag?" And she'd say "Good, dear".
Ahh yes, it was tragic!

Leonardo di Caprio was pretty good as Romeo, don't you think? There was no dribbling by him in the movie but I'm pretty sure he'd probably cough up something on film for art's sake.

Another sign of a Shakespearean actor is the measured silence contained within and between each sentence and how every word and syllable is caressed and properly enunciated and inflected with an actor's joy; imbued with drama - - like when Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny did the balcony scene (I can see who Clare Danes ripped off now).

Yep, it's the pinnacle of their craft and a pleasure to watch when performed by someone with skill. Expectorate a standing ovation. I hope the Little Pigs have fun and don't sit in the front row.
(I think my dog must be an old Shakespearean actor. And there seems to be a whole troupe of them at the nursing home that I'm off to this afternoon. Hmm, and I seem to have enormous luck in always visiting the same dentist as these talented people... . Culture, dear readers, just seems to follow me around. )
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Anon!

2008-06-18T09:37:00.021+08:00

Having babies is a competitive sport.
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Now usually it is generally held that, out of the genders, the male of the species is the most competitive. Not so. Hang around any primary school before the bell goes for home time and you will get the latest scores on who has the most kids, who had the longest labour/shortest labour/most difficult labour, worst kids, best kids, biggest bump, most nightmarish hospital stories, the quickest time for potty training etc etc.

A case in point: heavily pregnant mum at school last week due on the Thursday. I saw her on Monday this week, still undelivered. Didn't see her Tuesday, but saw her yesterday which was WEDNESDAY with a new little baby all swaddled up. Now that's just showing off. But it's a new school record!! Oh, and this is baby number five, too. No doubt by next week she will be svelte and wearing lycra and booking her cover girl shoot with Women's Weekly. Or maybe she'll manage to squeeze it in for this Friday.

Now, if she holds the shortest record for confinement, then I am sure I hold the longest ! Yes, dear readers, if there was an Olympic event for women-who-stayed-in-hospital-after-birth-though-nothing-was
-wrong-with-them-and-just-because-it-was-the-closest-thing-to
-a-holiday-they-were-likely-to-have-for-a-long-time-and-besides
-they-really-thought-the-food-was-great-since-someone-else
-cooked-it-and-waited-on-them, then I'd be the winner! Seven days of resort lifestyle! Ahh the bliss. I love those bendy straws! (But those nurses could have been a bit more helpful with the sun tan oil.)

Now I wonder, do you ever get the feeling that the competition is in overdrive for celebrities? Who is winning at the moment: Mia Farrow, Madonna or Angelina Jolie?? I've lost track. Think it's still Mia - but are all her adopted kids from the same place or does she have an international variety because that counts. Of course, speaking of Angelina, she is actually doing quite well in all the stakes since now she is having twins - which is worth bonus points and narrows the field to an elite group of contenders. But I definitely think Posh still holds the cup for Most Gaunt Most Soon After Birth, though Nicole Richie runs a close second (No, Angie you are disqualified from that one at the moment, remember?). And Mrs Mel Gibson holds the biological numbers record with seven (and all from one marriage which is certain to be another record in Hollywood!) Robyn Gibson is like one of those Olympic Athletes at the end of the Games with a multitude of medals thick around her neck.

Sigh*

Well, I have my own bronze, silver and gold and before fights start, let me just say that those places are interchangeable and everyone gets a turn!

Where's a nurse when you need her?

I need help with the banana lounge.

2008-06-09T11:20:00.009+08:00

Errrrrrrrrr.. ,,,, death to all lemon trees.

There was lemon-flavoured carnage at my house an hour or so after midnight last night. "Whack! Whack! Whack!" only a bit of gyprock, R3 insulation and western red cedar separated the pounding blows of the lemons from my temples. Oh why didn't I prune that bloody tree when I could have? A bit of wind and a bit of rain and a non-brick house is all it takes to turn fruit into wrecking balls. Poor ol' InstantJim got up and voluntarily went out into the howling wind and rain and darkness with the chompers for citric destruction. In his slippers. And jammies. Despite the boogey man. How noble is that?!

(Just as well Little Pig No. 3 had gone on poo-patrol earlier that afternoon when it was fine. It's amazing the output of two Irish Setters. I think it exceeds the input. Professor Julius Sumner Miller probably had a formula for it.)

So today we are all trying to see past the bloodshot capillaries in our eyes, which is not good since Little Pig No. 1 has her final mid-year exam this morning. Poor kid. I know! I'll do what I did last time and sit in a circle with the dogs in the lounge room and send her our collective brainwaves! That'll work.

Ommmmmmmm.

Why is it so?

I dunno.

And now for some light entertainment:

Sorry, that's a Sumner Miller joke.

Blame the lemon.

2008-05-16T10:31:00.020+08:00

I love not spending money.

I feel like I've won.

I love walking through the shopping centre, with the promos and the racks of fashion, and all the latest must-haves screaming out at me to buy them and I just keep walking in smug satisfaction through the droplet clouds of uncovered coughs.

It's like a game. It's like the Devil's snare tentacles in the first Harry Potter movie: just relax and you can free yourself from their money-grabbing, choking hold. Then you can continue unfettered, ducking the sneeze sprays, and conclude your time at the shops much quicker.

I like not dealing with money. I also like not dealing with people in possession of unhygienic manners. The smell of white vinegar and bicarb soda as I clean my kitchen is a sweet one to me. But Dettol in the air-conditioner at the shops wouldn't hurt anyone. (Unlike my shopping trolley... .)

No, I don't have to comply with the advertising fashionazi and buy this season's new look. I will wear things out. And maybe I just don't want to buy some formaldehyde-infused garment from China.

GASP! A RADICAL IN OUR MIDST!! What do I mean "wear things out"? Just what it says, dear readers. It's an ancient, deep secret from our past. Like handkerchiefs. Or tissues. Or common courtesy. I'm not interested in contacting other shoppers' snot wipe.

"Dear Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all have Porsches, I must make amends ...". Oh, the shopping lists Heaven must get sent everyday.
Everyone gets their junk mail.
Angels must think we are so gross in our consumerist stew of communicable germs.

Up-date, up-grade, buy-up, make-over. Disinfect.

Get down, get basic, commune with the earth. Preserve.

Is it a want or is it a need? Is it a disease? Emancipate.

And keep a hospital-grade bacteria hand gel in the car to use before you get home.

2008-05-14T09:16:00.019+08:00

I distrust people with sawn-off teeth. You know, those picket fence kind that are all EXACTLY the same size and so uniform and white that they look even faker than those false teeth lollies we had as kids. (Whose idea were those, anyway? Hey, honey, I have an idea for a new line of sweets: EDIBLE TEETH! ). I'm still waiting for edible toenails; improvising with the real thing is just not the same.
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It can't be natural: those Disney gnashes. Even Donny Osmond's look real in comparison! They must be nice to brush, though. Or buff. Plus, you wouldn't have to floss because they all join up so well like some kind of ivory monobrow in your mouth!

So let's have a few examples. See if you would buy a used car from these people. Glen Campbell, Tom Cruise (not a car, but a spaceship yes)Barrack Obama Princess Jasmine.

None of them look very interesting, do they? In fact, I am going to formulate a theory whereby the degree of interestingness of a person is determined by how crooked their teeth are. So, boy bands: boring, Abba: interesting! TV presenters: boring, fishermen: interesting; Superman: dullsville, SpongeBob: fascinating! This is actually based on science. Several years ago a study was done on who people remembered most from their high school days. Was it the class spunk or the blonde girl with the mysterious self-unbuttoning blouse? No. Was it the brainiac or the annoying all-rounder who was good at sport, good at lessons and Miss Personality Friend Of Everyone? Nope. Was it the notorious suck-up or the flamboyant boy? No, no, no. Not, at least as long as they were good or average looking. The people that we remember the most are the asymmetrical individuals which our brain interprets as "ugly" - and they are often in possession of an interesting dental arrangement!

But it's no good having teeth so uniform they could provide a new standard unit of measurement if they are not blindingly white. Refrigerator white. You've got to gleam brighter to be duller in my new theorum! I'm being unfair? Yes, possibly you are right. Models could be one of the greatest untapped brains trust we have in our world today. We must remember to call Vogue when we need our next global think-tank.

No, dear readers, sawn-off teeth make me suspicious. What kind of gnawing and biting has this person done to wear their teeth down so the little bubble in the window of the spirit level sits between those two lines like that? What have they been chomping on? Who have they been chomping on?! Take a step back and observe them with caution and do not fall asleep.

Because, let's face it, they are probably completely boring. So stifle your yawns with another sugary set of dentures from your lolly bag.

2008-04-29T10:32:00.011+08:00

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Is anyone else dreading the Olympics? . I am.
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Did you know that China is a "peace-loving nation" ? Apparently they are because a trucked-in by China, anti-protestor protestor with a I heart China banner proclaimed it so before she lost her voice and burst a blood vessel. (This type of stuff was at the torch relay in Australia where reportedly the torch came and went, though nobody saw it because of the para-military Chinese goons in their light blue trackies who got in the way.) Giving the Olympics to China is like taking it off Ancient Greece and giving it to Imperial Rome.

The Olympics is a nauseating display of everything nauseating. Think of the money nations waste on it, and for what? A few feel good moments on the telly and some medals that individuals take home and hope don't get nicked and sold off on Ebay!

Nowadays, sport is the opiate of the masses. Give them bread and circuses.

I guess the level of how sickening it is depends on what level your country is insane about sport. For Australia that is about Level 1. Perhaps, though, there are little kingdoms or republics or principalities somewhere that go in for the Eurovision Song Contest more than they do the Olympics. Places where they eat sheep cheese etc. Places where a mankini is a good look. I'd like to see the 500m swimming relay done in mankinis.

On second thoughts, maybe I wouldn't.

Oh boy, and I bet they will shove the ol' "Spirit of the Olympics" thing down our throats as well. I'm sick of that "Spirit of ... (insert subject)" device that gets trotted out for pretty well you name it. The Spirit of the Olympics, the Xmas Spirit, the ANZAC Spirit, the Australian Spirit, the AFL Spirit, School Spirit; yeah, that's the spirit. Not.

Fake.

That's why I don't like it. It's the money-cranking, euphoria-manufacturing, national grand-standing, funds-guzzling, Disney-smiling fakeness of it all.

I wonder if the Tibetan monks who are still alive will watch it?

I guess it's compulsory viewing in China.

2008-04-08T11:14:00.012+08:00

My recently acquired acquisition, a female Irish Setter, I have discovered is a floozy. She is also a scarlet woman because she is a red setter. She's the sort of dog who, if she was human, would wear micro bikinis to the beach, mini-skirts on public transport, and wet T-shirts everywhere else. (The last being because she'd enhance everything worth enhancing with surgery if she could.) I said she was a dog; actually, she's a bitch. I'm sure she'd like a designer chihuahua.

The other night I caught her lying on top of InstantJim on the couch - licking him! InstantJim the confirmed Dog-Hater! InstantJim the Cat Person! And she just looked up at me with her brown boudoir eyes and sent me a telepathic message: "Nyair nyair!" I sent her one back: "I'll get you - home-wrecker!" and I did, too, by eating that cold organic chicken sausage in the fridge myself!

But animals are like that, aren't they? Free-loading parasites who get fed better than your own children and end up having the best chair in the house. But what do they do to deserve any of this? Puppy dog eyes? It's not like they can look at you with iguana eyes, is it, so I don't count that. Same goes for the cute factor - unless they rehearse a series of tricks and perform them in front of you just to have a tummy-rub with a steel capped boot or a crumb of your tofu sandwich (in which case that would be sort of worthy). But mine are usually sleeping, eating, pooing or waiting around the front door to come inside and supplant me. Sponge dogs.

Well, floozy girl had better watch herself. She's messing with a being of Superior Intellect here! A being with an Opposable Thumb! She may look like she's related to orangutans but I have far more in common with them! Oh, .. er ... you know what I mean.

Cunningly, I will use my opposable thumb and, with a fine pincer motion guided by my enormous brain, I will turn on the West Coast Eagles versus the Dockers match on the telly! She can't compete with that. Even in a wet Tshirt.

2008-03-07T10:05:00.007+09:00

My car is a moving ecosystem. So how does that figure into its carbon footprint? Pretty well obliterates it, I should imagine, considering it is giving a home to so much flora and fauna. When the guy at the auto shop asks me what sort of car do I have, I answer "a white one" just so I can listen to the sound of him rolling his eyes. Things like that amuse a trophy wife, like myself.
Dream on, Paris.

But now, apart from being a habitat on wheels, it is also what I choose to think of as a practitioner of "automotive vogueing". Like this morning: all the kids hopped in the car only to discover that the fabric on the ceiling had rearranged itself in artistic drapes and swoops. Very chic. Very now. It also has an interpretive windscreen wiper blade that dabbles in experimental music. And the back door exercises some American ammendment (because it is a Ford) as to whether or not it will open for me. I blame Abraham Lincoln.

I must admit, this can be somewhat testing, especially if I have to chock up roof upholstery with torn bits of empty Jols boxes five minutes before the school bell rings. What I need to do, though, is to embrace Fabio (that is my car's name) for all his little idiosyncrasies and celebrate his creative output! This sentient being is doing what he can to find within himself his own uniqueness - and who am I to stand in his way? I have it easy! I didn't begin life on a mass-produced assembly line! All those poor little cars forced to conform whether they want to or not .. that's what I call communism. And I blame that dictator, Henry Ford.

Notice the beady eyes.

So live and let live. Live redback spider in the wing mirror! Live soft green moss in the windows! Live mosquitoes in the cabin! Live understorey creatures in the broken airconditioning vents! Live small reptiles in the wheel arches! Live Ninjas in the backseat! Live foraging wilderbeast! (I might have forgotten a few others but they are encouraged to keep living, too.)

Until petrol hits $3 a litre when we will have to progress to one of those horse and cart contraptions.

2008-02-22T21:18:00.012+09:00

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Eighteenth Century Ringlets and Dog Diarrhoea

There is one thing necessary to my felicity on occasions when ladies and gentlemen come to call: the satisfaction in the knowledge that my best gun dog's bowels have not been made lax through an injudicious diet. Furthermore, that my honoured guests, while setting foot upon the threshold of my abode, will not step, hop, or jump in any such blob, puddle or mucussy portion of dog poo; especially if it has corn sticking out of it.

Alas, dear readers, it seems to be my most melancholy lot in this life to coincide the great milestones of my family with human intrusions and canine extrusions. And so it was today: B day, that is Ball Day; when my eldest was preparing for her happy debut. AND I SPENT 3 FREAKING HOURS ROLLING UP HER HAIR IN FIFTY FLIPPING RINGLETS! Upon my word! That was a mighty undertaking. I must own that I am a great proficient, indeed!
Yes, well now she is gone! This minute she is likely dancing in her $665 merriment! ($675 if you count the money I paid her most beloved sister to help clean up the inconvenient diarrhoea on the verandah, some hours before the mamas and their children arrived prior to the group departure.) Luckily, Fortune was with me and when the doating mothers suggested photos out there to catch the view, I declined (for the smell was merely still masked though the solids (and liquids) were gone) but citing "unpleasant memories" I waved them over into the front yard for a more agreeable location.

The hour is now 10pm and it will be gone the midnight chime before my cherished one bustles into the vestibule and inner lobby of my open plan drawing room/kitchen . Or even 1 a.m. if they go through the Macca's drive-through on the journey home. Nothing will promote my happiness more if she brings me tales of delight and respectable partying plus a choc-caramel frappe.

Water for the dog.

2008-02-08T09:44:00.000+09:00

I'm back and thank goodness the holidays are over because they sucked. No commiserations please, dear readers, and definitely NO HUGS because today I am prepared and have 5 packets' worth of 600 drawing pins cunningly concealed on my person just waiting for a random hugger. Apparently it's national Hug Day or some nonsense, but I had a very nice little forewarning in the weekend paper thank you very much, so try it if you dare.

The echidna is an Australian monotreme (egg-laying) mammal. It has retro-punk spines which are good for cleaning your shoes on and, like true Australians, prefers a metaphorical embrace.

Trees yes. People no.

Example of the pit-falls of hugging: Pit bull hug-attempt of a porcupine.

Hug day. Stupid, rubbishy Generation Y idea. I blame the mothers for leaving their Gen Y babies in day care; driving off in their window-tinted, air-conditioned 4WDs as their snivelling designer-toddlers clutched hold of mini backpacks, mobile phones and the nearest abandoned kid for comfort. That's where it all started. That and America. Don't know how or why it is but there seems to be a culture of hugginess in the U.S for some reason: hugginess and emotional men who cry. Goodness, I hope it hasn't spread to England! But I'd say, by now, Canada has probably been infected.

Huggy people puff themselves up as if they are emotionally superior.

Gasp! But maybe we are to blame?? Aussie blokes have never been traditionally huggy. Never, that is, except on the sports field. Notably in Aussie Rules footy.

Double gasp! Germaine Greer (fearsome feminist) called it "homosexual horseplay". Now I'm even more worried! Is it like a Scientologist-type plot but by the Blue Nail Polish Set to take over the world? (I've seen Tom Cruise hug people. ..Does he play football, too?)

Apparently there will be "cuddle squads" stationed around the city today, giving away free hugs to people. Disgraceful. At least make 'em pay for them! Plus, does nobody care how hard we've worked for centuries on our inner-urban facelessness, isolation and anonymity!?!

Xenu and his cuddle-squad. Avoid the Perth CBD and especially the pavement outside 108 Murray Street today.

So all we can do for the rest of the day, really, is to take precautions. Maybe we will get lucky and in future years there will be an outbreak of some communicable skin disease and Hug Day will be outlawed.

I'm pinning my hopes on it.

2007-11-15T09:40:00.000+09:00

I despair for my gender: I really do. If you ever see me and I'm staring into space and my eyes are kind of blank and glazed over then you'll know that the vacuum of despair has filled my brain. This is happening a lot more often with every passing year.
.

.

You know, I used to be just a healthy cynic, a glass teetering on the half empty, a lampooning larrikin lustfully liking alliteration. But no more. You see now, dear readers, I have crossed over into unredeemable territory where the sickened and weary fugitives of gender dwell! And why, you may well ask? Because my female gender is incurably gullible and thereby stupid.
.

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But not you, dear readers, there are always exceptions to the rule, aren't there?

Perhaps you can commiserate with me. Perhaps you, too, when confronted with the male or female gender boxes on forms, have been tempted to scrawl in "snail" instead. Maybe, like me, you regularly gouge your eyes when in the boobalicious presence of a Traitor To Your Own Kind. Or possibly you howl at the full moon over the sheer misery of that second bloody X chromosome!
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Females just want to believe. Doesn't matter what it is they- just- want -to -believe!
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Let's start a list then, shall we? I'll write down a few that come to mind and then you can leave your own at the end.

clinical studies by cosmetic companies actually prove something, follow scientific method, and are good enough to be published in Lancet
big bums can be made to obey the laws of optical illusions

real estate agents are more trustworthy than used car salesmen

muesli bars are healthy

Tom Cruise is a good dancer

daylight saving in the country with the highest skin cancer rate in the world is a good thing as are bikinis

G strings are an attractive alternative to normal underwear and fun to wash

the $20 000US per American family spent on the "War on Terror" could not have been put to better use
tea with cream instead of milk is not an atrocity
chihuahuas are cute

telephone psychics are better than counsellors

kids with food on their faces are adorable

Justin Timberlake could never get annoying

those designer jeans made by child labour are better quality than the Kmart jeans made by child labour

makeup is a necessity and makes us look younger

the sexual revolution did not rip women off
diet shakes are a balanced meal replacement

18. Dr House has a soul mate somewhere

Sad, isn't it? We start out believing in fairies and end up believing in stretch mark remover.

Well, dear readers, I'll hand things over to you now. It's possible I may not be able to post for a couple of months as the spectre of the Summer Holidays approaches and with it the Most Dread Inlaws.

Dear oh dear.

Excuse me while I retreat into my shell.

2007-11-06T10:08:00.000+09:00

Time to cheer you all up! And what better way to do that than with a new installment of

CELEBRITY CELLULITE!

Yes, this is guaranteed to warm the cockles of your heart and any place else you may have cockles. ( Personally, my cockley bits are a mite chilly: which means I shouldn't go wearing lycra right now.)

Firstly, we'll start off with an old favourite -

Ahh Britney.
Ahh .. memories.
Gimme more gimme gimme more!

Elle McPherson Supermodel:

How dare she be human!

Oh! Mischa Barton! (Proof if ever there was any that bum-dumplings are gender given.)

And my favourite... I've saved this for last just because it is sooooo special. Dear Readers, may I introduce you to Pop Diva, Christina Aguilera!

Alive alive O !

Now you can bask in this feeling for the rest of the day! I perform this public service for free.

2007-10-19T09:46:00.000+08:00

Well, it's the final school term of the year and then we'll be on summer holidays. This is not good since my holidays will be hijacked by the arrival of the Inlaws. That'll be fun. Oh yeah. ( Like a Darth Maul/Darth Vader/Darth Sidious group hug.) Of course, my dear mercenary children are looking forward to it and the ka-ching of dollar signs is already ringing up in their eyes. I guess,as a youngling, I preferred the aunty with the cherry ripe bar in her handbag for me to the aunty who gave us undies and singlets for Xmas.

Sigh* I'm feeling quite flat. No fizz. I am the cordial of life today. I'm even talking like Natalie Portman in Episode One.

Drudgery and duty. What two ugly words they are.

Bleak and boring.

One day the whole world will rise up and slaughter celebrities everywhere and all the rich and famous because they just have too much fun. Get them off the TV, off the internet, out of magazines and out of my face!

I'm too bloody jealous.

2007-09-27T10:11:00.000+08:00

Oh gag.

I saw them putting up all the Xmas junk in Kmart this morning.

* Napoleon Dynamite sigh sound-effect.

Oh great. Oh hurrah. Oh woopy-do. Oh gag, again.

You know what this means, don't you? This means that all the Xmas nazis will be out in full force.

OH, WOE BETIDE YOU IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO DO XMAS LIKE THE MASSES!

A Japanese Xmas card.

(Yep, I thought that, too.. )

I am always amazed at how the freshly cranked up 'peace and goodwill' suddenly stops at your feet if you have opted out of Xmas. Jesus never did Xmas. In fact, Jesus never asked anyone to do it - it was all invented hundreds and hundreds of years later by the Catholics, adapted from a pagan festival that was changed around. Actually, if you want to remember Jesus, then what about doing the Lord's supper which, after all, is how the Bible says Jesus asked to be remembered?( "Do this in remembrance of Me." )

Oh, but that would require going to church each week, which is not as easy as an annual pig-out plus prezzies. Hmm. Does God deal in once-a-year religious fixes??

Yes, I'm a bit irked. It's such a hideous industry and nothing to do with what the person it pretends to honour wanted at all. YEAH, I KNOW SOME OF YOU WILL DISAGREE AND I've heard all the warm fuzzy usual blah blah "the spirit of Xmas" arguments. It's like a mass brain washing. But I like accuracy. I like things to be authentic. I can't stand fake.

The bad taste Beckhams at it again.

So I won't have anything to do with it.

Am I going to tell you what to do? No. But just have a think. And if you decide to free yourself then know that there is a huge subculture of different people doing the very same. Some of them nominate New Year's Day as a gift-giving time (which kids love just as much) and some of them join in with Festivus (for the rest of us) a la Seinfeld. Some just go au naturale and do nothing!

I applaud the Christians who have taken Christ out of Xmas!

This is probably not going to be a popular post, dear readers, is it?

Too radical. Too scary. Too socially unacceptable.

2007-09-13T13:05:00.000+08:00

BAA BAA RAINBOW SHEEP IS THE DIZZY LIMIT!!!

I want to know what you think.

And to get you all, dear readers, into a real lather of politically correct outrage here are a few of my favourites:

I'm a size challenged teapot, small in stature and generous of girth,

Here is my handle and here is my non-pressurised, safety device-enabled, spout. When I get all steamed up then

hear me shout in an elevated decibel, yet non-threatening verbal tone,

"Tip me over and release my non-caffeinated, dairy free organic contents. "
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vertically challenged Jack Horner sat in the socially accepted timeout space eating his highly nutritious, low fat, gluten free snack. He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a nut-free plum and said, " This is good for my self esteem".
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Mary had a dimensionally-challenged-but-no-less-useful-to-society lamb,

It's fleece was as rainbow as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went,

The lamb chose to follow, out of its own free will not because it felt compelled to by the mores of a patriarchal phallus-centred society that seeks dominance over non-human life forms.

Oh dear.

It all really began with golliwogs, didn't it?

First it was the golliwogs.

Then it was giving fruit and veges to poor Cookie Monster and making him sing that healthy fooooods taste so gooood song instead of C is for cookie (that's good enough for me).

After that, well what else could we call it but Tinkywinkyphobia and all because of his handbag and purple fur!

I've even heard rumblings about the Oompa Loompas. Disgraceful.

And finally it has now come to Baa Baa Rainbow Sheep being sung in our local kindergartens. This particular aberration began in Britain.

WHERE WILL IT END????!!!!!!

2007-09-04T13:13:00.000+08:00

Why do Americans often give their religion and political allegiance in the same sentence/in the same breath? I've read this so often while blog-hopping in the profiles.
"I am a Christian and a Republican"
"I am a democrat and a Christian"
"I am a Muslim and Impeach Bush Now!"
"I am a Menschevik Mormon".
Well, maybe not the latter. It's very very odd.. There are a lot of gung-ho Baptists and Jews and Catholics and what-nots out there with banners and rosettes and rally marches and party lines. Very weird.

How can you be that devoted to a political persuasion? I understand religious devotion, of course, and the approval of God. But is there a teaching circulating that God backs a political party in particular? Surely no-one thinks George Bush and his party are divinely inspired? I don't get it.

I don't see the British doing this. (But religion isn't big in Britain really, strangely enough.)
Do the Canadians do this?
Do the Europeans?
Does Asia?
I haven't noticed it. But I have noticed the Middle Eastern countries do it.

That's a bit disturbing.

And no, Australia is not like this at all, not that I'm particularly politically savvy( voting on the basis of who has the best eyebrows and would make the best caricature for cartoonists) but I think most Australians are pretty flexible on who they will vote for.

The Westminster system really is the most democratic in the world. You know, I reckon the Yanks'll have a real dictator one day because their system overly exalts the president. Just catch the Messianic overtones to some of their campaigns: scary!

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2007-08-31T11:04:00.000+08:00

CHOCOLATE CRACKLES!!!!

Yay for chocolate crackles!!

Every kid tries to get the biggest one even though they will (guaranteed!) make you feel sick before even getting half way through.

This is one of the mysteries of a kid's universe!

Little Pig Number Three's birthday is on Sunday (the same day as Fathers' Day and the cat's birthday!) and so I have just made up a batch of CHOCOLATE CRACKLES for him to hand out at school after the bell goes at 3 o'clock. Today is also the last day of winter (which is miserable, because spring is next and, ultimately, summer - and summer sucks).

Now, since it is my job to be an attentive mother and hang around the classroom every afternoon waiting for my child to come out (and to be at hand in case I need to embarass him) I have noticed a few things. The first thing is that the older your child gets the fewer mothers hover outside at bell-time. That's not really surprising except for the fact that these absent mothers are wasting the power of embarassing their child, which is power indeed, and outstrips bribery in getting them to do your bidding.

The other thing I have noticed is that hardly anyone makes home-made stuff anymore when it is their kid's birthday! Parties are usually at McDonalds or similar, and cakes are often out of packets, and things handed out at school are almost without exception out of a bag from the confectionary aisle in the supermarket.

I kind of get the feeling that children are a hindrance to modern lifestyles.

I think the kids sometimes get this feeling, too.

...

What great memories do you have of your childhood? (I bet they include a lot of food-related recollections.)

But who is going to fondly remember a Whitewings easy bake cake? Or that packet of mini mars bars?

Good food equals good memories for all of us.

All hail chocolate crackles!

Even if we can't get through a whole one and chuck up afterwards.

*** *** *** *** ***

Recipe for Chocolate Crackles (apparently these are traditionally Australian, which I didn't know - I thought everyone had them!)

4 cups rice bubbles

250g (1 block) Copha (vegetable shortening)

1 cup pure icing sugar, sifted

3 tablespoons cocoa

1 cup desiccated coconut

melt copha
mix dry ingredients in a bowl
stir in melted copha
spoon into paper patty pans

chill

2007-08-23T09:47:00.000+08:00

Pretty well everything annoys me. Except me.

What I want to briefly bring before you today, for a bit a mutual annoying in a sharing and caring kind of way, is the issue of talent.

This topic happened to spark my annoy-o-meter yesterday when I read this simple statement by our phone-chucking friend Naomi Campbell (who has noble aspirations to set up a modelling agency in Kenya): "There is lots of talent there".

CUE VOLCANIC ERUPTION !

Now, this is not anything to do with black, white, brown, off white, pink, olive, jaundiced or stuff like that. It is not even to do with the ever-changing standards of beauty. NO! This has got to do with the fact that anyone anywhere can be regarded as TALENTED just because they embody certain genetic characteristics.

THAT'S NOT BLOODY TALENT!

I hate hearing models referred to as "the talent".

I'm sure Naomi Campbell is talented. As a businesswoman.

I am sure Naomi Campbell is talented: at scrubbing loos on community service (and we all know she's gifted with an amount of accuracy when it comes to launching projectiles at employees). But "beauty" is not a talent. It's a ... it's a .... THING! It's this generation's check list for a certain height, a certain shape, a certain colouring. It's more than accidental, of course, because it is a hereditary issue: you could certainly breed for beauty (as is the principal with some animal husbandry). But it ain't talent. No sirree. Not unless you are a scientist working out all the tricky dominant and recessive genes and what traits will be exhibited before you breed a model at your model-breeding farm.

Just so you know, here are some examples of talent: This is talent -

So is this

And this

and definitely this

Talent is all about ability: usually some kind of freaky innate ability to do something that is above average. ABILITY is the key word here.

There. I've had my say and I'm going now because of a stinking headache.

I think too much. It's a curse.

2007-08-14T10:28:00.000+08:00

I've decided the best way to HAVE MY REVENGE on the Cashed-Up-Bogan mum at school is to

a.) be taller . This has already been accomplished.

b.) look better in jeans than her.

Now, this is not the same C.U.B. mum who I have mentioned before with the black and magenta hair and rather ample bosom. No! This woman is small, weedy, has mousey brown hair and laughable ambitions to be an air hostess. (I hear they're strict about being higher than the drinks trolley these days.)

Yes, you do detect an air of hostility there, dear readers. Oh yes.

But shall I lower myself to her bogan levels? (These are pretty darn low). No! I will just have a more shapely bum which, as anyone in the female sphere knows, is the best form of pay- back since having a full set of teeth.

You are probably wondering what Low-Low-Horribly-Low Afore-mentioned Woman has done to deserve my ire? Here is a re-created snippet of conversation between Little Pig Number Three (who is in grade 3 and is 8 years old) and moi-self.

"Mum, today Chaise (his friend's name, girly-sounding though it be for a boy) said our family are hippies and he doesn't talk to poor people. "

"And why does Chaise think we are hippies, Sweetums?"

"Because his mum said so. I'm going to pound him and smash him up! There's gonna be blood and gore and brains on the pavement!"

"No, don't do that poppet. Just don't invite him to your birthday party."

(Little Pig Number Two )" And snigger at him whenever he gets in trouble in class and spread rumours about him."

After this I plummeted into a pit of self despair over the unkindness of people and went on a binge of green-tea drinking. Now, I don't really care (overly) being labelled a hippy (though in my opinion the only real hippies are those who were doing all the flower power stuff in the 60s and 70s, so I am historically too young to be a hippy). Anyway, look how nicely they all grew up on Family Ties! And consider how shiny hippies' teeth are! Sir Richard Branson is one happy hippy.

The thing that upsets me the most is the "I don't talk to poor people" bit. This is rich coming from outer suburb wannabes who ( I have found since moving here from the leafy, green, affluent suburbs of my private and exclusive girls only high school days) are chockers full of the most invertly snobbish people you could ever come across .. not counting certain Asian places that will remain unnamed. And apart from the abject irony of this, IT'S JUST NOT NICE.

OK, so my car is 19 years old: it still gets me from A to B - and because it is second hand I have left a smaller carbon footprint behind.

And yes: my clothes are somewhat casual and may be interpreted as 'GROOVY', but at least I'm comfortable and not a slave to what is being sold this season in Target, Kmart or Supre (oooh classy).

And lastly, I know my giant handmade straw hat that eclipses the sun is subject to many smirks and comments; but I have the last laugh with the preservation of my youthful good looks as opposed to resembling Jerky Girl.

So, I'm on high Atkins at the moment to strip away any excess flesh there may be from my gorgeous buttocks and then, next time Little Pig Number Three's class has an assembly item to which C.U.B. mum bothers to turn up, I will don my Levi flairs and sashay past her oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah with a super model pout on my face and wiggle in my pony walk.

ANd then, from the oval to the car park, I'll pelt her with Tibetan goji berries.

2007-07-30T10:04:00.000+08:00

VOLDEMORT LIVES !!!

Next door to me, actually.

And she owns a shitzu and has had a sex change somewhere along the way.

Now, it's alright for bloody Harry Potter who can take off hunting horcruxes and hallows and whatnot .. yeah! (So could I if I had a flipping house elf to cook me steak and kidney pie whenever I clicked my fingers! ) (Thanks a lot, Potter, for fobbing your dark lord off onto me - what am I ? The local villain dumping ground??) But not everyone has a fancy shmancy wand of legend and magic powers (though Instant Jim can summon a pretty good patrHOMERus in the form of a d'oh!).

Still, I have hope that old moldy Voldy is about to move on since a for sale sign went up in front of her house. Maybe one day soon I will get to have a garden where petrol isn't thrown over it to kill the plants, or salt dumped on shrubs, or my children threatened with broken arms and offered "sweets", or holes drilled into trees and filled with poison, where a chain saw is not taken to things she doesn't like, or my dog injured while I am out ... ?.
Oh! Happy day, when that sign went up!

I didn't think anything short of death could prise her out of that house. But, despite her ancient years, basilisk looks and hog warts, she's recently got married.

Go figure.

Some things are just stranger than fiction.

2007-06-27T10:14:00.000+08:00

Celebrity cellulite !!! Who can resist it?! Just love it!! Spotty, wrinkly stars!! Who can resist stars without make-up?! SHOW ME A WOMAN WHOSE ENDORPHIN LEVELS DO NOT SUDDENLY SPIKE WITH JOY AT A PICTURE OF KATIE HOLMES LOOKING LIKE A GARGOYLE IN A BIKINI ,SHOWING OFF A WOBBLY CAULIFLOWER BOTTOM !!! Haven't found a pic of that yet, but stay tuned, dear readers, stay tuned.

Sumo wrestlers: Hollywood sit up and take notes. These guys (and gals) have everything, don't they? Sport, fame AND fat. You've gotta love that! Heard of the child obesity epidemic? Sumo plot. They're gonna rule the world.

Unfortunately, cellulite photos of well-known Westerners have copyrights that are more jealously guarded than Angelina does Brad, and are difficult to blog. Luckily, no-makeup pictures are far more abundant - probably because cellulite photo oppurtunities tend to happen in a flash (but Britney is good place to start!) You've got to be quick with the zoom lens and have lucky lighting, whereas once you spot a celeb with no make-up, it's pretty easy to set your mobile phone camera on burst and get a good shot.

Eva Longoria

Sigh* I've got a warm, sunshiney feeling just thinking about it!

'Cellulite' is not a medical word. It is a marketing term coined in European spas and salons (that's why you sometimes hear the pronunciation 'celluleet') and made popular in an industry book in 1973. Shonky 'treatments' and advice have sucked in millions and their money since then. Let's face it: all women have it and it is normal and historical and not some kind of "fat gone wrong" - full of toxins and gunk that need to be purged. In fact, it's actually good because it stores fat away from vital organs, plus it helps you to make it to Day 39 on Survivor without eating your tribe members. I've seen toddler girls with cellulite! Biologically, it is normal. YOU ARE A FREAKISH MUTANT IF YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY! So that explains the Olsen Twins ........

Make-up, however, does have a long history in human civilization e.g the guy-liner those Pharoahs used around their eyes. (Even their metrosexual mummies wore it!)

But what's better: a good celebrity bum-dumpling photo, or an AAAGH-My-Eyes-Are-Melting make-up-less moment? Poor Goldie Hawn.

Oh the comfort we are afforded from all those saggy, puffy, acned, blotchy faces in Tinsel Town.

mmmmmm .... there's that sunshiney feeling again .....

Now, I need to remember a few worthy sub-headings. The first is Plastic Surgery Gone Wrong.

Liz Hurley with Donatella Versace.

(Liz thinking: Must age gracefully, must age gracefully.. )

The second is before and after computer re-touching/manipulation. They now offer this with school photos, did you know? Isn't that a worthy use of technology? The ultimate in zit-zapping!
Unfortunately for Tinkerbell, not even Photoshop could help.

We could all learn something from the Japanese and how their culture glorifies wibbly wobbly dimply bits, and how they venerate their elders: This is the cure for cellulite!

Employing an ancient Japanese tradition, here is my commemorative Hollywood haiku for this post:

beautiful people

celebrity cellulite

butt ugly faces

Pick your favourite star and have a go! (First line, five syllables; second line, seven syllables; third line, five syllables.) Write about any aspect you like and share it with us!

(The de-toxing effect is marvellous and you will look and feel years younger!)

2007-06-20T09:28:00.000+08:00

Who wears platform leopard skin boots at 8.30 a.m. to take their kid to school? I spotted a woman doing that yesterday; Asian lady, blonde foils, spray-on jeans and ridiculous leopard skin shoes! The funny thing is that the primary school encompasses eight levels and a steep upward climb. What a missed photo-oppurtunity!

Oh the cornucopia of human variation I get to witness every day! "The things you see when you haven't got your gun."

native Splendid Blue Fairy Wren

Then there is the Cashed-Up-Bogan (CUB) mum. I don't know if female chests can come in a size J, but she sure got one from somewhere! It's like walking past someone with a bum in a bra. She drives a flash car, has pitch black, long hair with magenta streaks and buys pre-packaged coleslaw from Woolies. We don't get many Yuppies or DINKs here.

What tales I could tell! The teacher with more facial hair than her Viking ancestors, the dad with bad b.o. and sebaceous cysts the size of grapes, the kid whose eyes are off on obtuse angles, the old woman with the hair hat, the mother with bosom problems of disparate altitude, the hunchback emos who can't see past their fringes, shoppers with disgusting toenails in masseur sandals .. ..

No, there is not a nuclear waste disposal site near.

Oh, dear readers, how I dream about a land of leafy avenues and pristine shoreline, where people say 'something' instead of 'somethink'; a place that does not feature often on the evening news. Where "H" is not 'haitch', where the school bell is not the same siren as the cops'. A place where it can rain without the used condoms, hanging off the cyclone fence in the school car-park, filling up like rain gauges. Somewhere with a bookshop. Somewhere without a fast food strip. Somewhere over the rainbow!

Somewhere where bluebirds and pigs fly.

And in that happy land, may the international confederacy of leopards rise up and exact their revenge!

2007-06-13T09:19:00.000+08:00

There is something that gives me the heebie jeebies. There's something that makes my skin crawl. There is something that generates more horror in me than a BIRD-EATING SPIDER UNDER THE TOILET SEAT.

And that something is .. Bindi Irwin.

Oh! Dear Readers! I confess! I have felt this way since about two weeks after the Steve Irwin funeral TV special. Um, hang on, was it two weeks (?), there was the Sixty Minutes interview, the Barbara Walters one ... yeah, probably two weeks for Bindi and about one week for Terri.

I'm not going to speak ill of the dead here, and make no mistake, I feel desperately sorry for that poor kid and the rest of her family. BUT I CAN NO LONGER HIDE THE FACT THAT THIS CHILD IS THE MOST IRRITATING AND ANNOYING ANNOYANCE THAT I KNOW!

Go on, hate me now. I know it is tantamount to saying "I make occasional cushions out of puppy skin", or "I eat babies".

It's just that she's everywhere and she is always bubbly and eternally smiley and unfailingly bouncy and permanently enthusiastic and I . simply . don't . believe . it ! In fact, others have noticed this, too, and I recently read a review of her new Jungle Girl show and someone commented that "she appears to be affecting childhood rather than experiencing it". Which means she's pretending to be a kid. BTW, there is no jungle in Australia and we don't refer to the Outback as The Outback - we just call it the bush. The reviewer also said the show was 'creepy' with post humus, pre-recorded appearances by the Croc Hunter.

Every week for months after that fateful day last year, we would have a guaranteed Bindi appearance on the telly; like a promotional Release-Of -The-Week by her agent: an interview, or a rewards ceremony, some kind of high profile appearance, a fundraising appeal. Since then have come the magazine covers, the columns, and more feature articles ... . But that's not all! There's her new show plus her myriad of other wildlife shows, there's her thing she did with the Wiggles, there's her fitness DVD for kids, a clothing range .. . Nowadays I don't buy anything if it contains Bindi Irwin. Today she's in the news for meeting the Dalai Lama!

Bindi's Words of Wisdom. Oh how I hate those: glib and rehearsed. Bet the Dalai Lama copped a few. I just feel like jumping up and shaking that kid and yelling this: "CRY kid CRY! Bloody well kick things and scream and smash a few stinking cameras! WEAR FURS, EAT WHALE, BURN THE BLOODY RAINFOREST DOWN AND OPRAH'S COUCH WHILE YOU'RE AT IT! "

And to Terri Irwin I'd say "Let the child grieve." Then I would add, "Let her go to a normal school. Downsize your wildlife empire".

Give her a natural habitat.

2007-06-08T11:10:00.000+08:00

Paris: au naturale and oh gross

I can't imagine what hardships poor Paris Hilton is suffering right now since she was "re-assigned" from jail and allowed to serve the rest of her sentence at home. I hope she honestly and truly promised them, crossing her heart and hoping to die, that she would be very good and stay out of the jacuzzi!

But I'd be checking behind her back for crossed fingers if I were them.

It must be tough doing it tough in a palatial mansion.

"She's singing again!"

But, dear readers, how would we know? How do any of us who enjoy the freedoms of everyday drudgery know what she must be going through right now?! Try and imagine just how unbearable it is for her! That little electronic monitor on her ankle is tres laid and horribly chafing if you've had laser hair removal all over!

What I want to know is will she have to go without all the stuff that she had to give up in prison? Will she have to leave out her blue contact lenses and go brown eye-balled? A brown eye suits Paris. Right up her alley.

Bets are on whether she gets chucked back in jail or not! (Apparently the judge who originally sentenced her is after her again.) She may even have gone back by the time you read this! If that is the case, then the internet gamblers who waged she'd be released under a week will not be happy if they have to refund!!

So what do you think of it all?

Has her public appeal gone forever?

Is it hot?

Will her prison diary be made into a movie?

Will Paris make a comeback?

Will Britney die laughing?

Stay tuned!

2007-05-31T11:17:00.000+08:00

Super-sized American chicken

Reasons to get backyard chooks:

1. I am colossally stingey and so free eggs appeals to the miser in me.

2. Free range eggs from the shops now cost $8 a dozen.

3. I could pretend to be one of the "McLeod's Daughters" cast and I could wear tight jeans and an Akubra hat while still maintaining a cinematic complexion.
4. I'd have something to bribe and barter with and be no longer reliant on my charm, good looks and stalking abilities.

Freaky, naked Israeli-bred chicken

Reasons not to get backyard chooks:

1. I may have to actually touch them at some stage.
2. I don't want to clean poo off eggs or anywhere else.
3. I'm monumentally stingey and the Scrooge in me balks at shelling out to build an enclosure.
4. I've heard they attract snakes. Is this true?
5. I've heard they live for nine years but only lay for three. Is this true?
6. I've wanted to be self-sufficient in case of a bird flu pandemic, but then getting chooks is not the best move on that chess board, is it? Maybe I could farm platypusses/ platypi/plattercats whatever. ..

7. Chicken rage: I have chicken anxiety about encountering it.

Dear readers, who among you have chook-keeping skills? Go on: own up! You are a vastly talented bunch!

But I'm afraid this venture may all be a little too rustic for me: Dangerous living, risky business, a bit too on the edge? Mmmmm. Maybe I need to ponder it for a decade or two?

Basically all I'm wanting is a chicken nirvana that's easy to look after and poo minimizing.

Any (polite) suggestions? If not just leave your best chicken joke.

2007-05-23T09:33:00.000+08:00

Ahh, The Royal Family: you gotta love 'em!

Now, to all my dear little American readers I must explain that David Beckham and Victoria Beckham (aka Posh Spice) are not, in fact, real royals. I know, I know it is confusing what with David's penchant for silly hats and Posh's latest woofer hairdo which is very corgi-ish. But they're not. Besides, real royals would never hang out with Scientologists!

That naughty ex-butler to Princess Di has been at it again!! Not content with his cringe-worthy series "Australian Princess" (don't even ask, but be warned about an American version!) and his bottles of grog that he peddles in the U.S, Paul Burrell has had the nerve to be secretly recorded having a private conversation in which he declares to some tricksy reporters (posing as businessmen) that the Royals are "mad"! Quel horreur! I never suspected that! Did you ever suspect that? I was sure all those generations of inbreeding and furniture polish had not had the slightest effect on them at all! By the way, when was the last time we had a proper, old-fashioned usurping of the throne? Been a while. Sneaky buggers, those butlers. Better watch 'em..

Of course now that Prince William has ditched his long-suffering girlfriend, Kate Middleton, he's up for grabs again! (I knew that alliance would never last: despite having the vote of approval from the public, imagine having a future queen with the middly, middle-class name of Middleton!) Perhaps Paul Burrell could come up with a candidate from his Australian Princess reality TV show? It would help out with the in-breeding thing! Regrettably, however, the winner of the last Australian Princess did have the unfortunate name of Kylie Booby. Still, that would be preferable to marrying an American (blame Wallis Simpson) but of course both would be preferable to a French connection. Hmm. I wonder who would come out tops if William had to choose between a French girl and a Scientologist??? Oooh! Intriguing! I'd love to falsely lure Paul Burrell to Dubai and entrap him into giving an opinion on that one day! Funny old Poms.

Of course, I have banned my daughters from ever marrying into the Royal Family because I don't approve of them. True! Imagine what ghastly neighbours they'd be? Drugs, booze-ups, wild partying, clandestine affairs, corgi poo! Non non! And I think I'll have to ban them also from marrying a Beckham since David's blue nail polish and squeaky voice might be hereditary. Did you hear how he recently bleached his new coiffure blond only to rapidly shave it all off when his U.S team mates called him Farrah? And this man has three sons! Just buy another Gucci handbag, Posh, have a nice cuppa tea, and close your eyes.

Funny old world innit? The rich get richer and tackier and more immoral, the poor get poorer and want to be like the rich, and the ones in the middle end up on game shows!

I reckon Princess Kylie Booby and Kate Middleton should get together and do some underhanded plotting before it's too late! Give Paul a ring, girls!

2007-05-22T11:33:00.000+08:00

And here is the comments box for the previous post which strangely published without one:

2007-05-16T11:55:00.000+08:00

Paris Whitney Hilton has looked a bit mopey and contrite lately, hasn't she? Can't blame her. After all, only three or so people reportedly turned up to the "Save Paris" rally recently. See! Tinkerbell, Bambi, and the .. Other One do love her! ("Whisper whisper" .. Oh, it was eight people? The rest of the litter you say ..?)

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO FEELS SORRY FOR PARIS? Well, sorry-ish. OK, not that sorry I'd turn up to her rally: but sorry enough to commiserate long-distance, impersonally in a half-hearted cyber kind of way!

*Oh I hate it when my jaw does that python-thing when I yawn.

"I demand the sum ... OF ONE MILLION DOLLARS!"

But hasn't she just had the 45 day jail sentence for violating-the-terms-of-her-probation-and-driving-her-Bentley-with-a-suspended-licence-and-at-70mph- in-a-35mph-zone-without-headlights-at-night predictably slashed in half? Tinkerbell won't be happy. More on my conspiracy theory, later.

"I will use the "Time Machine" to go forward in time and steal Paris Hilton's "mojo" !"

It is distressing. I can see why Paris is traumatised. What does one wear to jail, anyway? Is it like planning your wedding trousseau except in reverse; you know, you start with your 'going away outfit' and you end with something borrowed (government designer uniform) and something blue (unless your bruises are usually purple as is the case with me)? Poor Paris. But you get to wear your own undies, don't you, DON'T YOU?? Errr .. hang on a minute .. ("whisper whisper" .. It wasn't Britney who started it? "Whisper whisper") ... Umm .. forget I mentioned that.

"Do not eat Kit-ty"

Back to that rally. Bit of a "ruse", don't you reckon? A bit "fishy"? A bit "chihuahua-y"? Who, do you think, who stands to inherit the Hilton dynasty fortune if Paris is disposed of? JUST ASK YOURSELF THAT! Well it's not those wannabe forgotten Pomeranians: Dolce, Sebastian and Prince - those not-hot, fatty boom-boom pooches who just did not fit in Paris's purse! No sirree! "They are semi-evil. They are quasi-evil. They are the margerine of evil. Just one calorie: not evil enough!" This is all good evidence to suspect the Number One Chihuahua of weaving wicked designs of world domination and plans to usurp Paris! And the motive? Well, to start with Tinkerbell is a boy! Now if that doesn't make you a sick and vengeful little puppy I don't know what will. In Tinkerbell we behold the face of evil! Who knows what new madness he is plotting somewhere, inside some handbag, in his secret lair RIGHT NOW ? Who would have thought that such a cutesy wutesy, darling, completely un-hideous or malformed representative of the canine world could turn out to be of the "evil genius genus"? Like Mr Bigglesworth.

"Bite me."

I wouldn't worry though. All the military hardware in the world is useless against someone with the singing talent of Paris Hilton. You don't need those lessons in martial arts to defend yourself, Paris: you have that hit song! (.. Get it .. hit song. HIT SONG!

Sigh* My talent is wasted here .... )

"Foiled again!"

FREE PARIS NOW! Before she is even incarcerated! How much more punishment can we stand after all? How many years have we done already??! (How long is it since she started her career in whatever it is exactly that she does?)

I CAN'T STAND ANY MORE!

Flogging isn't legal is it? Tell her that! Give it a few months and we will have lashings of Paris post-prison tell-all-books and interviews, then she'll whip up a bondage-inspired range of casual wear and accessories, flagellate our eyes with prison-themed publicity shots, scourge us with a movie deal: we will be using Paris Hilton nail files, security screens ,thongs, then the musical will come along.. .

Stars are Blind and maybe even tone deaf: but certainly not dumb.

HAVE MERCY PARIS! We are on are knees and begging you! Please reduce our sentence! WE PLEAD FOR SOME LENIENCY HERE!

2007-05-08T11:15:00.000+08:00

I don't get opera.
I don't get opera like I don't get country music.
And I don't get both of them like I don't get rap. By the way, did you know that rap is spelled with a silent and invisible 'c' ?

The West Australian Opera Company (now don't laugh, we do actually have stuff like that over here and no, they don't wear bikinis or wrestle crocodiles) is turning 40 this year! Yay! And this Saturday they are celebrating with a concert at the Government House Ballroom. DON'T TURN UP IF YOU ARE FAT OR UGLY! Nowadays opera singers have to be young and hot and preferably personal trainers during the day and the audience has to be hip and happening as well as nicely blinged. Yo!

Poor old Dame Joan Sutherland. No oil painting, was she? These days La Stupenda (as she was known) could not compete with the market appeal of Marina Prior. I was always told that opera singers were "large" because they had big lungs and big lungs needed an acoustic body! Maybe the microphones are bigger now? Maybe the singers have birch veneers? Maybe it's Maybelline?

And what's happening with all these pop-opera groups like Il Divo and The Ten Tenors, etc etc.? They're everywhere! I blame Pavarotti for starting it: him and Domingo and Carreras and their little boy band!

It's just all weird and warbly to me. The only good opera is rock opera. Thank you, Queen! Scaramoosh scaramoosh, shall we do the fandango?! Nothing odd about them.

But here is the worry: First it starts with the various trendy opera ensemble groups popping up in our weekend newspaper lift-outs. Then we'll see Amici Forever doing a cross-over featuring Gwen Stefani (what genre hasn't she had a go at?). Next we will have it the other way around and Beyonce will be covering a song from La Boheme ..
and then .. oh dear readers! And then the rap blingerati will mutate and 50 Cent will release an album called LA SCALA at the same time as Eminem releases a video of him narrating, in tempo, the entire four acts of Il Trovatore with a holographic Maria Callas until finally
THE WORLD ENDS WHEN KEITH URBAN, DOLLY PARTON, SHANIA TWAIN, AND GARTH BROOKS FORM A COMPANY AND DEBUT IL RIGOLETTO WITH A BOOT-SCOOTING CHORUS OF BREAKDANCERS AT NASHVILLE AND TAMWORTH!!!! yEE hAA!

oh rap.

*

2007-05-04T10:55:00.000+08:00

Who calls their kid 'Homer' or 'Gaylord' anymore?

I was thinking about Humphrey B. Bear this morning and considering that I have never met a Humphrey, young or old, and that the reason is probably because parents don't want their kid to grow up not wearing pants and being sung about as a "funny old fellow".

Then I thought, "Well, I've never met an Elvis, a Bart, or a Saddam, either!" But how many Courtneys, Brittanys, Tennesees, Paris's, Dylans, and Madisons have I tripped over just this morning?! It's kind of funny when you meet parents who call their child "Georgia" and they have never been there. I haven't run into an "America", yet - but give it time! Give it time!

I blame the hormones in pregnant women. If you qualify for that category, then listen up! You are currently not in your right mind. Your brain has been taken over by a pink haze of hormones of which men are deadly afraid. And why? Because you are now a monster of their own creation. This can be good. This can be POWER! But this can also lead to a most unfortunate choice of name because:

As your confinement drags on you will find yourself lying on the couch more and more watching soap operas.

Soap operas (day and evening) have very silly-named characters.

As already mentioned, your better-half is so in awe of your New Mummy Powers that he will not contradict anything you say even when it is something like,"Honey, let's call the baby Aubergine".

To be fair, I can't lay the blame totally at the puffy feet of the new mums and what they are watching on the TV. In fact, these days we stray beyond the confines of our villages so much and meet so many people that we don't like that sometimes the only names without bad connotations are the invented ones! School teachers, especially, have this problem. Who wants to call their baby the same thing as that maniacal ADHD kid you had in your Grade 3 class last year? Or the boy who kept soiling his underpants? Or the girl who had nits and bad breath and issues with fractions? Yes a real dilemma. ... Apple and Peaches are sounding like sensible names now, aren't they?

Dig deep into history is what I suggest. There are quite a number of fogie names that are now coming back into fashion but I think it is worth going even deeper than our grandparents! Let's do an A-Z:

Altan (Mongol leader)

Bede (The Venerable)

Canute (King type guy)

Dingane (King of the Sulus)

Enver (Turkish dude)

Ferdinand .. a guaranteed famous name

Geronimo .. the name on everyone's lips at some time

Hereward ( Anglo Saxon thegn. What's a 'thegn' you ask?)

Ivan (at least four famous ones)

Jonas (Jolly good especially if your last name is Jones)

Kabir (Indian mystic and poet)

Lafayette (unfortunately French)

Macbeth (out damn spot!)

Napoleon (as in Dynamite .. well, it's recent history!)

Olaf (Kings of Norway)

Pan (not pizza; pretend greek guy with flute. Had goat legs, horns and ears:may be a friend of Humphrey's)

Qutb-ud-Din (I won't insult your intelligence saying who he is)

Raziya (FIRST WOMAN RULER OF THE DELHI SULTANATE!)

Sher (Indian Emperor. If I could turn back time...)

Tancred (Norman Crusader)

Usman (Ruler of Hausaland. That's in Africa)

Valdemar (another king of somewhere or other)

Wenceslas (not very good by all accounts)

Xoxe (surname of an Albanian politician last century. Try and say it without feeling kind of naughty!)

York (Plantagenet Dynasty)

Zog (King of Albania!)

So there you have it. Pretty well they are mostly from history not herstory ... but if you want a girl's name just add an 'a' on the end. These are real names! Road-tested!

No more names like Buffney or Shananana-na , OK?

2007-04-27T08:59:00.001+08:00

Japanese fooled in poodle scam
Friday April 27, 2007
Thousands of Japanese have been swindled in a scam in which they were sold Australian and British sheep and told they were poodles.
Flocks of sheep were imported to Japan and then sold by a company called Poodles as Pets, marketed as fashionable accessories, available at $1,600 each.
That is a snip compared to a real poodle which retails for twice that much in Japan.
The scam was uncovered when Japanese moviestar Maiko Kawamaki went on a talk-show and wondered why her new pet would not bark or eat dog food.
She was crestfallen when told it was a sheep.
Then hundreds of other women got in touch with police to say they feared their new "poodle" was also a sheep.
One couple said they became suspicious when they took their "dog" to have its claws trimmed and were told it had hooves.
Japanese police believe there could be 2,000 people affected by the scam, which operated in Sapporo and capitalised on the fact that sheep are rare in Japan, so many do not know what they look like.
"We launched an investigation after we were made aware that a company were selling sheep as poodles," Japanese police said, the The Sun reported.
"Sadly we think there is more than one company operating in this way.
"The sheep are believed to have been imported from overseas - Britain, Australia."
Many of the sheep have now been donated to zoos and farms.
©AAP 2007

2007-04-23T11:53:00.000+08:00

I don't know why the comments settings had been altered on my blog recently, but I have fixed it now! Maybe I did something to it while my brain was doing something else: that sometimes happens.

Or maybe it was the CIA getting back at me for all the nasty comments I made about the US military keeping Australian citizen David Hicks at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba? (Who knew they read the Unofficial Australia's Biggest Loser website off-topic forum ??!)

Mystery. Anyway, before I go, does anyone know much about feeding mutant, one-eyed goldfish? I have a small deformed fantail that is the sole survivor of three goldfish we bought on the holidays. Initially, for a few days, they were in an outdoor pot-pond, but when they started looking ill I brought them inside into treated water (with an airstone) in an icecream container. Now, Bobette's one eye is boggly and I'm pretty sure it is not much good to see anything with let alone tiny bits of food. Plus she has no big school of friends anymore to follow around and thereby happily bump into her meals. I have put a skinned pea in there (not interested) and one little bit of floating/sinking fish food but she can't see it. Any suggestions? I don't think she's sick anymore; her slime coat has gone and she swims pretty normally, though slow. I've thought of raining food down, like mortar bombs, but this would affect the water quality. What can I do??!!

Help!

2007-04-04T09:15:00.000+08:00

Dear Readers,

Kids suck. They really do, and I am going to get my revenge.

I am going to get that chocolate hedgehog slice out of the fridge (ex-staffroom, magnaminously allotted to my children by me) and stomp on it STOMP STOMP STOMP and grind it into dust and little squidgy bits with the heel of my Foot of Vengeance. Then, I am going to pick it up daintily, by the corners of its plastic wrapping, and drop it into the bin - PLOP! - from a great height above my head as I smile serenely.

MWA HA HARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR !!!

Call it petty-minded. Call it mean! I call it fun and righteous judgement! Unfortunately, the Three Little Pigs are away at school (last day before two weeks' holiday) and so I won't have an audience. However, dog is inside, so I'll let him watch. He's nice.

We were running late this morning, and the Third Little Pig proceeded to chuck a tantrum because I turned off the TV and he DIDN'T GET TO WATCH HIS FAVOURITE COMMERCIAL. Then, after I had locked up, I had to go back inside again with him because he hadn't even done his teeth ... But imagine my delight when I looked in the fridge and discovered he had not packed his piece of chocolate hedgehog slice !

So as the neighbours tut-tutted and we drove away, all the nasty, unacceptable comments made by that little grumble-bum (that I detected with my super sonic sonar) just bounced off me!

"Your bullets cannot harm me", I thought to myself, "My wings are like a shield of steel!"

Where is Karate when you need Karate?

And then I had a little Hugo A-Go-Go moment, dear readers, yes I did, as I formulated my dastardly, brilliant revenge!

All that chocolate - goodbye!
All those little biscuit bits inside - goodbye!
All that sugary, sticky icing on top - goodbye!

HEY!

REVENGE IS SWEET !!

2007-03-28T10:11:00.000+08:00

To clean the fridge or not to clean the fridge, that is the question. ( And isn't it interesting how one can write that as a statement without a question mark? ) Something is rotten in there and it is not the state of Denmark.

I bet Princess Mary is not cleaning her fridge today .. SO WHY SHOULD I? I bet JK Rowling is not cleaning her fridge today .. SO WHY SHOULD I? I bet Naomi Campbell is not cleaning fridges today .. oh hang on, she might be, I know she's done a few toilets recently.. . Anyway, now is the opportune moment because there is hardly any edible food left in the fridge so all the dead, diseased and decomposing stuff is plainly visible from the front. But two of the Three Little Pigs were utter maggots last night at tea time and caused me to miss the Makeover episode on The Biggest Loser - so I am not feeling kindly disposed to anything that adds pleasantness to their existence today . How can one miserable child take one wretched hour to eat one measly organic, free-range, roast chicken drumstick?

I will feed him witchetty grubs next time. Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. Maggot!

Oh, how I suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune! That's why I am sitting here, dear readers, in a tracksuit pondering the philosophy of refrigeration instead of preparing for my next news conference in my snazzy pink power suit.

I supppose I could do a Naomi and don a floor length, silver lame evening gown before I put on some rubber gloves AND RETAIN MY PRIDE. 'Tis nobler in my mind.

There is an awful lot of dignity stuck to the back of those shelves from some spilt yoghurt that I'm going to have to scrape off. Then I'll have to sluice up the swill of self worth that has gone gooey in the vegetable crisper. And I have jars and jars of nearly empty dreams cemented in place all around the corners that I'll need to prise off,... shuffle off, even. Aye, there's the rub. Sigh*

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up they soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locks to part, and each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But I won't. I don't want to remember the last time I cleaned it out again.

So, will I do this thing rank and gross in nature, or won't I?

The good news is that I am kind of running out of time now.

love

the

internet; a place of infinite jest , of most excellent fancy and refrigerator emancipation!
:-)
(And irony if you read my previous post.) :-)

:-) :-)

2007-03-22T10:36:00.000+09:00

You know, sometimes I just hate EVERYTHING.

For example: there is this IKEA ad where the kid asks his mum where a certain toy is and she says,

"Stuffed toy or action figure?"

And he says,

"Action figure"

and she says,

"Battery powered or electronic?"

and he answers,

"Electronic".

Then the camera zooms in to her smarmy Stepford-wife face so all you can see is her red-lipsticked smug smirk at the left of the screen, and the kid is all a blur in the background. And the camera stays on that as she says,

" Your bedroom, south-east corner cupboard, second column, orange box."

At this point I emit steam out of my ears and entertain thoughts of weapons of mass destruction while my family roll their eyes (again). The hate this illicits must be nation-wide, especially for those of us of a "certain ilk". But what makes it worse is her bloody white decor and her bloody white clothes!!!
That is like a red rag to me.

And I hate those list 10 things you like blogs. I'm sorry if you have done one, dear reader, and I apologize for the (no doubt) sarcastic comment I left. BUT WHEN YOU ARE IN AN '"I HATE EVERYTHING MOOD'" THEN NOTHING ANNOYS YOU MORE THAN A HAPPY BLOGGER! And those little smiley icons and cross-stitchy flowery templates: hate those too. Want to blow them up.

If you are warm and fuzzy and happy and peppy and peachy and keen and fine and dandy then for goodness' sake DON'T ADVERTISE IT. It's just not encouraging to the rest of us. Get some problems. Show offs.

Sometimes I hate everything so much that I even hate hate! Think of all the problems hating stuff causes! If I didn't hate housework so much then I would probably have white furniture and Swedish storage systems and shiny children!
And sometimes I even hate the thought of hating hate!!! And sometimes I just don't like it.

So what about you, dear reader? What is "up your nose" today? Don't fight it! Embrace your negativity for the greater good! My comments box is now open: wipe the smiles off your faces, I'd like one moan or groan from each of you!

2007-03-16T10:50:00.000+09:00

We have a poof in the family and his name is Abdul. It's no secret.

"GET OFF THE POOF!" I don't know how many times I was told that growing up...

"DO -NOT -SIT -ON -THE -POOF !"

..Which was not fair, since visitors were always allowed to. They probably could have even jumped on him if they wanted and my Mum would not have told them off! I could only ever jump on Abdul when she wasn't looking. Just perching on him cross-legged was the best thing - or lying on him watching TV, or singing "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree ..." Sometimes I used to pretend I was riding a horse!

I remember inviting InstantJim over to my house one day, before we were married, and offering him the poof. I remember the funny funny look he gave me. (Like I was really queer and odd in some way or something!)

Poor old Abdul. He's a bit old and worn out now from all the wear and tear over the years. I can't say how old he is exactly, but my Mum first picked him up in the Middle East around the Suez canal donkeys years ago. And we've still got him with us, well with me to be more precise. ( My sister likes younger more modern poofs.) I had him living out in the shed for years, but that distressed him because his skin kind of cracked in the heat and grew mould in the winter (that Vaseline made no difference!), so I brought him inside again and now he lives in the laundry. No one sits on him anymore.

Still, he can look back on his career with pride. (But surely he must still be good for something? It just seems such a waste of all that leather!!)

Sometimes I wonder about that dear camel who gave his life for him.

And why the French spell it "pouffe".

2007-03-09T10:27:00.000+09:00

ROMANCE IS OFFICIALLY DEAD.

And every three seconds around the world someone buys a piece of broken hearted tragedy!

HOW COME NOBODY TOLD ME THAT KEN AND BARBIE BROKE UP???!!

There have been an awful lot of seconds since FEBRUARY 12TH 2004! Yes: 96 917 178 of 'em! And you can say it in three seconds. Less than that ! Try it: "KENANDBARBIEBROKEUP!" "BarbiedumpedKen" "SkankBarbieditchedtoyboy" "KenplayswithBratz" .

So what's the goss? Give us the juice: what happened????

43 years. They have been going out for forty-three years! Mattel's childhood-smashing spokesperson gave the mimsy explanation, "They just wanted to spend some quality time apart. They remain friends," which of course, is a load of twoddle!

Enter the villain of the story: Blaine the Australian Boogie boarder.

Now, I've heard the rumours going around that Ken finally came out of the closet of the dream-house, but I think that's a misconception started by all the loser -looks they've given Ken over the years (Nutcracker Ken and Tea Party Ken with Teddy Bear come to mind). THE MAN IS IN CHARGE OF HER BARBEQUE, for goodness' sake, AND ANY MAN THAT CAN HANDLE A PAIR OF TONGS OVER AN OPEN FLAME IS ALL MAN! Even though he's plastic. Now BLAINE is another matter and that's a girly la-la name for a start. No self-respecting Australian male would ever answer to that! (They should have made it "Blainzy" .) And just look at him:

Doesn't he remind you of someone?

Some people say it was all Barbie's careers that were to blame, or that Ken just never would commit and the wedding kept getting postponed, or that she was never really interested anyway and he was only ever arm-candy to her. Perhaps.

Then some others suggest that it wasn't Blaine that Barbie dumped Ken for but it was, in fact, G.I. Joe, or Action Man. I've even heard that she left him for Barney the purple dinosaur! (He's way too old for her.)

Like all good dramas, this one has a skeleton in the closet. (Not Ken's closet, a different one)(Not Blaine's closet a different different one!). Bild Lilli. Ever heard of Bild Lilli? Well, she's the doll that Barbie Millicent Roberts ripped off.

True! Here's a vintage Barbie:

Here's a Bild Lilli: She was a German-made doll only sold in tobacconists for "the pleasure of gentlemen". Same face as Barbie Number One (1959) same body with torpedo bosoms, same approximate size, and she even came with clothes to dress (and undress) her in. Mattel differentiated their Barbie (eventually) from Bild Lilli by giving her plastic permanent-undies.

So, I'm thinking maybe Bild Lilli has come back after many years and out-vamped Barbie and nicked Ken off her! European hussy! (No perma-knickers either.)

Still, I remain an idealist. I am a Romantic! (I spiral-permed my hair like Jane Seymour did in that Le Jardin ad.)

Ken and Barbie. It's destiny! They will drive off into the sunset in a pink convertible yet !! It's like Romeo and Juliet! Anthony and Cleopatra! Rhett and Scarlett! Ridge and Brooke! Bert and his pigeon! Ernie and his worm! Carson Kressley and

Come to think of it, Ken has plastic dacks, too.

It's doomed.

2007-03-01T08:54:00.000+09:00

HOW TO GET OUT OF DEBT AND INTO A BIKINI

You won't find the answers here. Look, I tried, dear readers, I tried for the benefit of you all to gain this crucial information but 'the category' was blocked by the parental-control-filter on my computer. (Surprising, since it was from a news network homepage.) I suppose 'bikini' is classed as a naughty word.

And I don't think it was another Anna Nicole story. (How many people have everyone fighting over their body even after they've carked it?!) Still, her cinematic life certainly offers one way to achieve a bikini

lifestyle. Fergie did the same (the Princess/Duchess not the Fergalicious). Except she ended up "broke" again .................. though royally flushed enough to be able to lie around on banana lounges, poolside, having her toes sucked.

Of course the assumption is that people want to get out of debt and into a bikini.

Well, I don't get that in the first place.

After all, they're just glorified knickers and bras! Apparently the rule is "unless you can see the water, it is underwear" which explains why bikinis and "budgie smugglers" are not considered appropriate attire in the House of Parliament. Canberra is kilometres inland!

As for me, I prefer to go for boardies and a rashy if I'm swimming at the beach, which I never do, so mostly I look like Gidget's 'friend in a tent' Larue, complete with big hat. I should sing telegrammes while I'm down there. Make a few bucks. Get out of the red.

Perhaps we get out of debt by getting onto Bikini - the French island that has all been nuked to pieces by the Yanks when testing their weapons of mass destruction in the 1960s? I suppose a radioactive atoll could theoretically be classed as a tax haven - who's going to come and get you? ? I doubt they'd have a McDonalds and so your ability to fit into that itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot garment is more likely to eventuate there, though pieces of you may periodically start to glow and drop off.

Actually, people were cavorting around in bikinis yonks before Louis Reard took out the modern patent in 1946. I bet he's rich.

Yeah! Thousands of years ago in Crete there were cretins everywhere in bikinis! And then there are the famous mosaics of Piazza Armerina in Sicily which show pre-peroxide historical babes captured for all time in a seriously bad swimwear collection which makes us ask "Why even try when you don't have nylon elastane?" Quite a happening place though, Piazza Armerina, check out this wardrobe malfunction:
Is it just me or does he bear a striking resemblance to Justin Timberlake?

Sorry. I know, dear readers, you are all waiting for me to somehow stumble upon the recipe for debt free bikininess: but I've told you already: we won't find the answer here today.

I guess for now I will have to remain in debt and decent.
Keep away from my toes.

2007-02-23T09:14:00.000+09:00

I FEEL LIKE A BIG PILE OF DOG-DO RIGHT NOW.
No, I'm not saying I'm wanting a bit of 'steaming coil' to eat (though I've seen the Japanese French Iron Chef, Hiroyuki Sakai, dish up similar looking things) rather I INHABIT THE VERY ESSENCE OF DOG-DOEY-NESS.
Bum.

"GOOD NEWS!" said the email message last night.
Immediately I thought "Uh oh".

Isn't it funny how some people's good news is your worst nightmare?? It's like those people who actually look forward to football season, or summer or both; it's like weirdos who enjoy having dental work because of all the nifty gadgetry. It's like someone enthusing over how Tom Cruise and David Hasselhoff are releasing an album of duets together with that geek from Dawson's Creek doing the back-up vocals.

And do you know what, dear readers? All I could do at the time of this maleficent email (apart from immediately stop playing 'groove is in the heart' on my bass while watching My Name is Earl) was to think to myself " M U S T - G E T - T O - M Y - B L O G ..."

You are such understanding, sweet, little people. I love my fans.
sniff*

Anyway. Here is the word that will strike fear into your hearts:
..."INLAWS."

And here are the next two thoughts that I had:

1. Where can I run to? Mexico is too far.
2. I better start cleaning the house now.

They are arriving in December from England.

All of them.

Plus my sister-in-law and her husband and kid.

......Maybe I could volunteer to be the "tonight's ingredient" on The Iron Chef and Chen Kenichi could just be done with it and dice me up and chuck me into his fried rice? Or Michiba could demonstrate carbon- neutral cooking and finely slice me into strips of sashimi and serve me up with a lotus blossom. Yoo hoo! Chairman Kaga! I'm over here!

SAVE ME, DEAR READERS, SAVE ME!!!!!!!

Clark? Lois? Earl? Astroboy? Someone? ....................

2007-02-20T11:28:00.000+09:00

GASP! The mystery of THOSE BIG QUESTIONS that I asked in the previous post deepens, dear readers!!! Now, we have discussed some of this in the comments, but I had to post this post-post because I have noticed something that is really freaky weird!!

OK - scroll down till you get to the pic of Keith Urban; then scroll up again until all you can see is half his face from the nose up .... ... ... ...

NO! IT'S NOT JENNIFER ANISTON ON A REALLY REALLY BAD DAY IT IS STILL KEITH URBAN!

(But that freaks me out nonetheless. jUST think about it ..)

What if one day they breed together???

OH, IF ONLY FRANK OZ WAS STILL ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-02-16T11:15:00.000+09:00

Life is a mystery to me. Why, for example, has the U.S more plastic pink flamingos than there are real flamingos in the world? Why am I sitting here eating an early lunch of titanic pizza from Tippy's (the pizza maestros) when I have just logged off my membership at (Australia's) The Biggest Loser website forum?? And why does Keith Urban obviously employ a muppet as his hair stylist?
I need to ask Oprah: there are things she 'knows for sure'.
... Or maybe someone should call the Useless Men (see link)...

By the way, that should be maestri because it is the plural form of the masculine noun.
Sigh*

2007-02-09T11:03:00.000+09:00

The plight of an unrecognized genius is not a merry one. No, dear readers, it is a forlorn journey of hope followed by despair again and again; in vain, in vain and again. Sigh*

Well, enough about me. What's all this latest fashion about not wearing undies ? Paris does it, Britney does it. Don't they know that undies are the world's most reliable form of contraception?

Actually I wish people would stop picking on Britney. After all, she's old, washed up and kinda ugly now: one of us! Poor girl. (Leave 'em on, Brits.)

I was considering becoming a member of the paparazzi the other day because I am going to be getting a new mobile phone/camera - 1.3mega pixels no less! So I thought that if I could just manage to be in the right place at the right time I might make mega bucks. Of course I would be highly-good at it and super- talented because I know what the public wants. I have my finger on the pulse! Who cares about getting the first shots of Tom Cruise's baby or Nicole Kidman's sometime pregnant bump.. no! That's really ho hum and boring. But if I could get a shot of Britney Spears' stretch marks now THAT would be something all women everywhere would re-mortgage their homes to see!!! Poor old Britneigh, ,,,,,,,

Spying runs in my family you see. My Mum spied on the neighbours for years in every house that we ever lived in, and she taught me everything she knew. E-V-E-R-T-H-I-N-G. I have finely attuned ears; I have almost 20/20 vision; I have venetian blinds!! And do you know what? My cousin is a spy. She is! She really, really is! It's supposed to be pretty hush hush, but she works for A.S.I.O which stands for "Australian Secret Intelligence Or (something)". We are meant to tell people who ask that she works "in the public service", so don't spread it around, OK? I kind of feel like Inspector Gadget and that she is my niece, except that she is my cousin.

How do they know that the Brit-pack are not wearing undies, anyway? Do they have telescopic octupus-arms with binocular attachments at the end? Yowzers! Maybe they take a certain kind of forensic swab off their seats. Ew.

Well, all I can say is that standards have slipped. Along with the undies. Both at the same time, in fact. Now when are pantaloons going to come back in fashion? Bring back bloomers is what I say. Give Nicole Ritchie a normal silhouette!

And please, someone, stop Britney from taking up pole-dancing.

Genius.

2007-02-02T11:37:00.000+09:00

Mud cake is not actually nice. Basically it is just badly cooked, too dense and soggy, failed normal chocolate cake. BUT THEY KEEP PROMOTING IT LIKE IT IS SOME KIND OF SUPER CAKE! (Though I'm sure Chloe Sullivan, from behind her desk at The Daily Planet, is way too smart to ever eat a piece of it; oh, but Clark would - but only if it had oodles of kryptonite hidden in it (he's a bit dim our Clark); as for Lana, well she may or may not: depends on whether she's kissing someone with her chimp lips at the time ..) Yes! It is UBER CAKE and everyone is meant to lust after it! Furthermore, some of us have even been successfully programmed to like it! Think about it! I bet YOU know someone who likes mud cake .. yes........ .This is an observation I have made recently. I just know it is key to some larger conspiracy ... .
The sneaky buggers.

Meanwhile, here is a picture of my favourite chocolate biscuits: TimTams. Now, you can safely eat these - THEY ARE TOTALLY INNOCENT. No secret, surreptitious, clandestine, furtive, incognito, incommunicado goings-on here ... no sirree!

Now the reason why they are safe is because they are AUSTRALIAN. And everyone knows that we Australians are cute and fluffy and friendly just like koalas. Not that I am anti American or anything, but the U.S is the home of CIA plots and double plots PLUS they have those really dodgy-looking Oreo bickies. ("Cookies", whatever ..) Obviously a proto-type.

You can't fool me! I watch reality TV!

And what doesn't Lex Luthor choose to eat when he makes an order at The Talon?
MUD CAKE.

2007-01-20T13:15:00.000+09:00

What do you do when you have a pimple or boil up your nose? Oh, dear readers, how I suffered from this dilemma during the holidays!!! Have Kristin Kreuk or Mischa Barton ever had spots UP their noses?? I suppose I could try snorting Clearasil or giving myself Neutrogena nasal-enemas ... THERE IS NOTHING ON THE MARKET!!!!! This is apparently one of those forgotten ailments for which Roche or Pfizer or Reckitt Benckiser just do not see any future in developing remedies. Understandable. How could you do an ad for it? Send a nose-cam up Cate Blanchett or someone??! AAgh!! ("I'm ready for my close-up, Mr De Mille!") And who would want to be the face of nasal feruncles? Hmm, maybe Paris Hilton ..?

The inside of a nose is just not an attractive place; it's not; even with a Doris Day lens and studio lighting. And 'problems' are so hard to see up there! My bathroom mirror is all blurred and fogged up (and a little textured) from trying! And even when I squash my nose flat against it and kind of slide down to create a sort of pig-snout effect, even then it's hard because I need to juggle a second mirror at weird angles and have the light just right!
Of course you can do it all by feel. Ahem.

Not that anything is any use, of course, because there is not much that can be done anyway. Oh - well, if you are prepared to cry a lot you can try tweezers to pop the thing (feels like a home-made frontal lobotomy: don't do it) or you can go for the softer option and joust with a couple of cotton buds (if your nostrils are accomodating enough)( >>> Well, you may as well just stick chopsticks up your nose if you want to try that!). .. Toothpicks? OOoo! My eyes are watering just thinking about it! What a nose-hair plucking bad idea!

Yes. How I have suffered. But despair not! I think I eventually solved it by pinching my nose really hard: at least I think that was it. Something ricocheted up and into the back of my throat then anyhow .. .

Welcome to 2007!

2007-01-03T13:18:00.000+09:00

This is not a photo;
or a pipe.

2006-11-28T10:26:00.000+08:00

MY MAGNUM OPUS:

I HAVE FINISHED IT !!!

You lot just think I sit at home all day employed in nothing but banal little insignificancies, don't you? Wee bits of stuff and nonsense for my own amusement and, magnaminously, for yours .. just whiling away my hours ..., floating around aimlessly ..., with a casual flick of my fingers occasionally at the odd piece of housework .. NAY, DEAR READERS, NAY! I work tirelessly for the benefit of all personkind, DAY IN DAY OUT and FINALLY I HAVE FINISHED IT!!!!!
So, here it is: my greatest work of art; stand in awe and be silenced all you critics at the magnificence of ....

The World is now A Better Place .

*Reminder: the anonymous jones blog blackout will commence in one week until the beginning of February. What is your favourite onomatopoeia? We all want to hear it - leave it in the comments!

2006-11-21T10:09:00.000+08:00

You know, I'm not in a very good mood right now and I want to complain about some things but my Political Correctness keeps holding me back. So the rage is turning inwards, dear readers, turning inwards. But we cannot restrain the tide of fury forever, can we? So every now and then it surfaces and manifests itself in URGES OF WANTON VIOLENCE; like on Saturday when I went to IKEA. Phew-ee! I had to grip that sharp, short, free little IKEA pencil with a vice-like grip to stop the carnage I could have wrought with it! Stab! Stab! Stab! Like in Psycho!

I blame the arrows. They have painted arrows on the floor and herd everyone around the shop in the same direction like sheep between the cheap furniture and the instore restaurant. It smells like cabbage constantly in there.Who can withstand the psychological, psychotic trigger of the smell of cabbage, for goodness' sake?! ANd who wants to buy crab paste from Sweden, from IKEA, anyhow??
Ho! Ho! But there was a time when we got our own back dear readers, one brilliant time of reckoning! Yours truly and her little accomplice (Pig Number One) pre-set the entire basket of egg timers in the kitchen department to all go off together (with a few staggered to go off as little annoyances after that). MWA HA HA! TAKE THAT CORPORATE GLOBAL MOGUL!
Then, AND THEN, there was the time (dare I tell you?) that we WALKed AGAINST THE DIRECTION OF THE POINTING ARROWS! Yeah! We shall overcome! Don't mess with the little people! Move over, Yoko.

At IKEA everything, from dining chairs to shelves and bathroom mirrors to tea towels, has a Swedish name bestowed on it by its designer. Do you suppose they pre-fabricate their umlauts too? I think they just make up fjordenflergenbrrmonnen names for things and stick an umlaut anywhere it'll look good! Have you noticed those little circle things, like degrees, that occur over the odd letter A? That's the difference with Asian rubbish and European rubbish: your bonus, classsy umlaut or krouzek ! There's nothing ickier than IKEA.

And I'm cheesed off with TomKat's wedding. Tom Cruise (hang on, there is something ickier than IKEA...) is standing on a box in that photo, isn't he? WHo cares about their 'wedding' anyway? Why did it have to be on the front page of the paper yesterday? Duh! Editors are so dumb. Oh I KNOW people are interested and that is why the editor did it. But people are only interested because other editors played into Xenu the Warrior Prince's hand! Cheesed, cheesed off!
The Catholics wouldn't be manipulated and let Tom and Katie get hitched in a fancy cathedral, so they rent a bloody castle somewhere and get a sickening stream of sucky celebs to turn up for maximum magazine-appeal. How rude not inviting Oprah! (How shrewd.) I don't like this whole King and Queen and Princess thing Tom Cruise is trying to sell. THat little place in Italy was just used. Cirque de Soleil should do its next theme on that wedding.

Hmph.

It's only a couple of weeks till the Summer Holidays; so soon there will be an anonymous jones blog black-out till the beginning of February. Better start doing my mental health exercises now.
I usually write a big list of holiday jobs for InstantJim to do, but usually he is sick or injures himself. For example, the infamous time - on the very first day of the holidays - when he was sitting on the couch, had a stretch, yawned, AND PUT HIS BACK OUT. Yup.

Mental health exercises, one two.. one two.....

2006-11-14T10:15:00.000+08:00

"DROP THE REPTILE!"

As Australians, we really do not do ourselves a lot of favours, internationally, with our image. Croc-wrestling hicks and roo-boxing yobbos is the usual export image, or else bronzed, bosomy, bikini-clad surf-chicks who round up sheep as jillaroos in their spare time. This is why a lot of intellectuals leave the country in disgust (eg Germaine Greer, Robert Hughes, Dame Edna). It's called the 'Cultural Cringe'.

Poor Constable Dale Howe of the Northern Territory had a novelty-news-item-moment last Saturday around midnight. While on patrol, he pulled over a car that had been swerving all over the road and told the driver to get out. Of course the teenage driver was drunk, and so he began the usual breathalizing and booking procedures. Anyway, suddenly a 1metre long brown snake appeared out of the dark and the kid saw it and raced to pick the thing up! Grabbing its head he brandished it at the police officer like a weapon.

"Drop the reptile!"

I bet you've never heard that one on Starsky and Hutch or Miami Vice, or CSI before! (Though you may have heard it at a Britney Spears concert.) By the way, FedEx was on a CSI episode, did you know that? She sure dropped him. "Drop the cold-blooded, legless animal of the class reptilia, the order Squamata the sub order Serpentes, and of ethnic-appearance." Why couldn't the policeman have just said "Drop the snake"??

Well, you know what happened next don't you? He threatened to shoot him. (All my dear little American readers are now imagining an arsenal of hand guns) but fear not, Constable Howe is a very sensible chap who only pulled a can of pepper spray on the kid, who, freaking out that this would enrage the reptile, ran off into the bush with it, with poor old Constable Howe giving a long and fruitless chase!
Which just goes to prove that a snake in the hand is worth it at 2am in the bush.

Must dash, the brainy plane is about to leave.

2006-11-07T09:56:00.000+08:00

"AND THEY'RE OFF!"

Australia has always been suspicious of America since 1932 when they killed Phar Lap. Well, that was the theory anyhow.

Today is Melbourne Cup Day!
(Did I hear a 'whoopi-doo" out there in the audience, dear readers?) Don't you know what Melbourne Cup Day is?
It's the day that (supposedly) "stops the nation"; the biggest horse race in Australia!

Yeah, OK, I'm not too over-excited about it either. Not since Phar Lap can't be there.

There is such dreadful ignorance these days. Must I explain about Phar Lap, too? The world is so U.S.A-centric it drives me nuts. But maybe you have seen the movie? Read the book? Done a school project on it?? No? Sigh*

From 1929-1932 Phar Lap, a big red 17hh chestnut race horse, captured the heart of Australia during the Great Depression by, basically, being unbeatable. He was a huge animal with an enormous 6.2kg heart, here is a picture of it:
and he also had buckets of personality and a touching relationship with his strapper the famous Tommy Woodcock.

Many bookies eventually refused to take bets on him because he was so amazing! However, in 1932 his owner took him to America and from there he won a race in Mexico against all odds (the Agua Caliente Handicap) (Al Jolson apparently wrote a jazz song about it) but afterwards Phar Lap was poisoned and died in California. That's worthy of a rap song. Yo.

So, that is the reason why there has always been an undercurrent of resentment toward the Yanks from then till now. Hey, we take our sport seriously! And yes, it has been proven that he was poisoned - with arsenic, in fact! Scientists got a hair from his stuffed body and ran it through a particle accelerator. No one knows for sure the means by which he came across the arsenic. There is one generous theory about him eating some poisoned grass that had been sprayed by the local council. But I think most people go for the mafia theory because gangsters stood to lose a heap of money against him. And also, Americans don't like losing to Australia (just look at the baby-behaviour over the America's Cup in sailing back in the eighties). Actually the U.S.A's reputation is not so good world wide for that, sad to say.

OK you are an American, you feel affronted, you are going to press the little red cross in the top right! Sheesh. Learn to take a bit of national criticism, please!

Oh, fair enough. I guess I am in a bit of a mood. I don't think the Irish are overly happy with Australians at the moment, either.
Hang on, why don't we just blame MEN?? That's better!

Anyway, before I go I'd like to ask for a bit of help. What is the difference between a hat and a fascinator? (This is not a riddle.) Flemington racecourse is going to be chockers full of hats and fascinators today and I'd just like to know the difference. Here are a couple:
In the mean time, I've got some stuff hanging off the ceiling which I think will do. Tally ho!

2006-10-31T10:55:00.000+08:00

OK SO ARE YOU HAPPY NOW??

Fluffy bunnies, cutesy wutesy, happy and peppy, peachy keen, sunshiny, warm and fuzzy ...THESE ARE SOME OF THE RIDICULOUS SEARCHES I UNDERTOOK FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE, DEAR READERS! I can't believe how much time I spent doing that, I'm bloody angry about it and who knows what kind of copyright infringements I might have blundered over. Stupid vague copyright laws. Oh, and a little tip, unless you want to wade through half a million pictures of Asian girls who think they are something else, don't google an image search for 'sweet and pretty'!

Nothing but thoughtful, self-sacrifice and catering to public demands here! I suppose you deserve it in a way after those two most recent CONTROVERSIAL posts of mine; so that was your non-condescending reward, dear little readers.
Sigh* I'm getting all teary and feeling like doing a thank-you-speech to myself now ...

Snottites. No, I'm not calling anyone names and I'm not here just to entertain you; expect to be educated as well! So, what are snottites? Yes they are real and here is a picture of some:

Snottites are kind of like stalactites ('tites go down, mites go up') but they are much better because they are grosser and more entertaining since they wobble and are slimy. Who doesn't like that?! EXTREMOPHILES (see pic below) are what they are made of; so-called because they live in extreme habitats where other organisms cannot. (I think I've met them..) Snottites can be found in all sorts of spooky caves and sewerage systems. You may have one or two around the house. Extremophiles are fun little buggers because they are neither plant nor animal (the jury is out) so, like viruses, they just get to cause a lot of mischief with very few consequences. (I wonder if Little Pig number three is a virus of sorts?)

(Hmm. He does have green stuff stuck to him like that ..) This is all sounding very familiar.

Anyway that's it. I've done my duty for the day! Got to make use of my expensive education, somehow...

2006-10-25T11:16:00.000+08:00

Want to know a guaranteed way to annoy 99% of people? (Did I have to ask?!)

This one works for me, just say: "I think the Beatles are mediocre and over-rated." That usually does the trick!

Now, dear readers, you may ask why would we want to know a guaranteed way to annoy 99% of people? The answer, of course, being that it is fun!

So if the Beatles (ho hum) are, in reality, so deplete of worth, why has Paul McCartney become a living 'National Treasure' to the Poms? Obviously
it's because THEY THINK THE BEATLES ARE NOT MEDIOCRE OR OVER-RATED. (But they are English, so that is a pretty good excuse, and so is donkey voting. By donkeys.) How about the rest of the world, though? Well, all I can put it down to is the Emperor's New Clothes Syndrome where someone said it, so someone else repeated it and so on and so forth, no one willing to actually say anything otherwise.
Ee aw.

AM I CHALLENGING YOU TOO MUCH, SWEET READERS? First it is wine, then it is the Beatles ..... can you cope with these new concepts? ?

By the way, regarding Heather Mills' wife-bashing allegations against Sir Paul, like Rove pointed out on channel ten last night, this man has been a vegetarian for, like, sixty years or something, so there is not a lot of iron-action going on in the red corpuscles there. He probably packs about as much punch as an old, limp lettuce leaf! Oh, but Rove did do a funny sketch about Macca hitting her with her own wooden leg saying "Stop kicking yourself! Stop kicking yourself!". Ah, yes it's fun to laugh at other peoples' expense. daed si luaP. daed si luaP.

It's true. I do think that radical thing about the Beatles. "Oh but they were so original, they came up with so many new things blah blah blah". Their music is mostly (to use an English idiom) "naff". They were just in the right place at the right time. For example, given the right place and the right time, I could assume my natural position as The Supreme Potentate and Ruler of The World. Still waiting. Mind you, the Beatles only lucked-out that they achieved what they did while they were all still alive (though perhaps not all quite here ...). Take a look at poor old Van Gogh! He would have gladly given a bit more of his ear to enjoy his artistic fame while he was on the same side of the ground as those sunflowers!

I'm the sort of person who can see good in everyone. Have you noticed that about me? I am, dear readers, and I have such a capacity for generosity with my opinion!! So is it any surprise that I can see the good EVEN IN THE BEATLES? I can, you know. There is one song that I absolutely applaud and I will give you a little clue and see if you can guess: it has a certain notoriety because of it's unfortunate connection with Charles Manson. Got it? Yes, it is Helter Skelter and I think it's the only decent song they ever made. And they churned 'em out, let's face it. "Imagine" - sappy. "Eleanor Rigby" - maudlin. "Yellow Submarine" - proves my point. "Crazy Frog" - genius!

People don't like hearing the truth and that annoys them. People don't like a voice that speaks against the status quo and that annoys them. People leave their parsley garnish on the plate and that really annoys me. Conclusion: people are dumb, have no taste in anything, and don't know what is good for them.

Lucky I'm here, I guess!

Leave your opinion:
What do you think is the MOST stupid Beatles song ever??
(Naked donkeys please refrain from commenting.)
Monkees welcome.

grapes-of-wrath

2006-10-18T10:33:00.000+08:00

DON'T PANIC!!! (Written in large, friendly pink letters) I'M BACK FROM MY HOLIDAY !!!
And I am full of wrath for those dear little grapes in our southern wine-growing region, esteemed readers, I'm full of wrath!

"Free us, kind lady," they would call to me from under the scum inside those stinking barrels of putrescence, "set us free...!" But what can one do at 120 km/hr in a Hyundai Getz on a country road with savage cows at the farm gate? And there were just too many crying for liberty; vineyard after vineyard; if I helped one I'd have to help all, wouldn't I ?! Don't think it was an easy thing to do - just leaving them there! How do you think I felt?? All those accusing branches of the bare, pruned vines JUST POINTING AT ME and beckoning me. I'm all for grape liberation, dear readers, but I cannot do it alone!

My sister's boyfriend/partner/de facto/nice wedding hater is a wine snob. They do the vineyard taste tours and buy what he approves of. I have noticed that certain people in society think they will attain a higher degree of personal 'quality' if they can spit wine in buckets and compose a sonnet about its decomposition afterwards. But, as I always like to point out, who actually likes the stuff the very first time they taste it ???

Yes, you may have gathered by now that I don't drink alcohol. That's because it is GROSS. And I'm not limiting myself to wine here, dear readers, oh no: beer gets the thumbs down, too, and, in fact, I think it is slightly more revolting than wine because not only does it taste like something a toddler vomitted up and left in the sun, but it smells like B.O., also! THESE BEVERAGES ARE JUST SO DISGUSTING and I am not going to forcibly 'acquire' the liking for it; they are wholly foul and detestable! I'm not going to comply to be more socially acceptable, either. So there. Now, you may disagree and have your own views, of course. But please don't try and convince me about wine's health properties, because red grape juice has exactly the same flavenoids or polyphenols PLUS it lacks the alcohol, which is a tumour growth-promotant among other things. (Just so you know.)

But what do I do with all the obscenely expensive bottles of wine and champagne that Instant Jim's rich, private school mummies and daddies give to him at the end of the year??? (These people are the MEGA MEGA rich!) Well, mostly pour them down the sink. (Though, I have kept a couple aside in my bird-flu stockpile to be used as topical disinfectant for wounds and savage cow bites.) Instant Jim would like bottles of cordial far better. Imagine the good stuff that could be made with those swanky grapes!

I do fancy being a Grape Liberator (with my own theme song). I could have a cape! And I'd charge up to the cellar doors on my Andalusian stallion like Zorro, climb onto the roof, lower myself down through a skylight, chuck ice into the vats, leave some pamphlets and intense protest poetry, then deftly cut my initials swish ! swish! swish! onto the door with my sword before turning in a swirl of dust and galloping away again!

Applications are now open for my Side-Kick. Must have Ninja cow-
fighting skills.

grapes-of-wrath
Originally uploaded by anonymous jones.

2006-09-28T10:24:00.000+08:00

Holidays! WHO LOVES SCHOOL HOLIDAYS?! (Will all you teachers please put your hands down; I can't see anybody else.)

Yup. Two weeks of UNADULTERATED FUN FUN FUN! All that controlling, all that bossying around, all those peeled grapes, all that FREE CHILD LABOUR!
I seem to drink so much more tea on holidays.

Actually, dear readers, I may be somewhat busy with the Little Pigs for the next fortnight (just in case you may, sniff, miss me or something...). But GUESS WHAT THE HIGHLIGHT IS GOING TO BE??? No, not the trip, not the beach side chalet, not the op shops, not the Busselton Hippy Shop, not the chocolate factory or Mammoth Caves. NO NO NO! It is the traditional (well, since last year anyway) HOLIDAY TIE-DYE T SHIRTS!!!

Woo hoo! But why are the children running away and hiding every time I mention it? Don't they want to wear hoopy froody matching tie-dyed shorts, T shirts, windcheaters, undies and shoe laces? I mean, we are talking matching here; or in the fashion world, I believe they call it 'coordinating'. Yes! Complete outfits! What are those kids? Some sort of freaks???

Haute couture is like vegetables. It's my job (duty!) to make them like it. Love it. Embrace it! And you know, where we are going is a pretty stylish place: chockers full of vineyards, hand-made soap shops, and teachers on holidays. So we must present well, dear readers, we must present well.

I'm going to do my clothes orange with pink circles, and turquoise with purple and blue circles, and pink with orange and maybe yellow circles. Did you notice the recurring circle motif throughout? Clever that. It's a fashion designer technique I picked up. Hoo hoo! Yay! Yay! Yay!

Now where is that grape-peeler of mine? OH, still at school till three o'clock, that's right.

2006-09-26T11:03:00.000+08:00

Goodness, I'm bored. Which reminds me of a school friend, dear readers, who used to say to me on the phone, "I was bored so I thought I'd ring you". Flattering, yes, in a desperate type of way. Her nick-name was 'Slow' and her older sister used to dye her hair grey. They had a backyard full of chooks and ferrets and budgies and all sorts of animals. Lots of poo.

Anyway, I was bored so I thought of you, dear readers. Well, actually not bored really but rather lazy. Yes, lazy is a good description. I could be doing all kinds of stimulating domestic facilitating but .. can't be bothered!

If everything is messy then it all kind of matches, doesn't it? I like to think of it as 'squalor chic'.

YAWN. This is too tiring.

2006-09-22T10:37:00.000+08:00

PIZZA!!! My vegetarian, thin crust, light-cheese pizza is CALLING ME from the fridge! I've had this problem before, only with chocolate and cake. The trouble is, I am having what my Mum used to term, one of my CAMEL DAYS; except I think my camel day has been going on for a week. She used to say 'camel day' because, as a kid, I would hardly eat anything for ages and then all of a sudden eat everything in sight! I never stored it anywhere, though, I'm not a hump-back. Or a hunch-back.

I have tried fighting it. I have had almonds. I have had more almonds. I have had corners off a slice of wholemeal bread plastered with coconut oil butter. I've had green tea, linseed meal, wheatgerm, yoghurt, soya milk, psyllium husks and sunflower seeds all this morning and it is only 10.50 am!. I've run out of dates. Don't fancy prunes. Then I fell. Not proud to admit it but, yes, I did scrape out the dregs of the kids' peanut butter jar and eat that on a spoon while I was logging in. OH MISERY!!

Every now and then I stand up and kind of wander about aimlessly, have another almond and sit down. I've got it pretty bad!

Temptation. The T-junction of temptation is where I am, dear readers. To the right is the RIGHT way, of course. To the left is the way to the fridge. And once I start eating like a pig, or a CAMEL, I won't be able to stop! After the pizza it will be something sweet that I'll be hunting. Then something else, then something else, then the dog's food will start to look appetizing, then the DOG will look appetizing....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

How do those Survivor contestants do it? Well, apart from the fact that they have no choice? In Australia we currently have an Australian celebrity Survivor on, which is pretty woeful and BORING because none of them are even slightly psychotic or deranged (they should have imported at least one American contestant!) Anyway, one of the men, the strategic cook, made dinner for everyone out of hermit crabs which he pulled out of their shells and mashed up into a kind of paste which he then cooked.

I could do that. Prince Poppet and Spidercrab are clunking away over there in their deluxe crabitat (periodically we go to the beach and collect different seaweeds and seawater which then get frozen for them - so they have a nice catered-lifestyle, plus the tank is heated). But they don't exactly earn their keep in any way. Hmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMM.

"Here crabby crabby crabby!"

Nah! Only joking.

EXIT STAGE LEFT.